#im missing one but its blue white so who cares lol

[thejankengine]

Ring-a-ding!!

Sorry about the potato quality, I could not get the lighting to cooperate lol. So;

Paper deck roll-call for the beginning of 2023!

Ashling the Pilgrim "Disco Inferno"

Brallin/Shabraz #teamskyshark

Malcom/Breeches "Pirate Time"

Siona "Oracle"

Obuun "Tears on the Rain"

Yahenni "Disco Eclipse"

Dihada "Tantrum"

I have not done one of these in a while, and I figured I would show everyone the nonsense i may or may not take to commander tomorrow (Friday) night.

Look on my works, ye mighty, and giggle!

[asfearlessasamango]

here i ammmmm i hope this isnt the longest ask ever lol but i cannot overstate how GORGEOUS i find your prose. the phrase “tiredness curls up in each joint like old cats in old corners” is so absolutely evocative and paints such a melancholic, beautiful, rich picture in my mind every time i remember it. i could actually get it tattooed thats how seriously beautiful i find it. most of all i loooooooove the amount of social norms, architectural details, cultural differences etc etc you infused in the story to fill in the gaps of the canon universe. the choice of using of rice paper vs. glass and all the reasoning behind it is the example that comes to mind, but im sure that if i knew more about east asian cultures, i could identify more and more details you scattered throughout the plot to turn this make believe world into a truthful parallel of the real one we have. i can only say bravo. and if you have any recommended reading for homework, i’d love to know more about these references! now back to your writing! one of thee strongest points of the story, for me, is how believable these characters are as people. they feel so fully fleshed out that sometimes it was like intruding on someone’s most private thoughts - even a little painful to keep going, and i mean that in the best way possible! i especially loved the subtle addition of zuko’s ingrained sexism and prejudice against other nations, things that ofc he’s never had reason to unlearn in this universe. he is compassionate, but can be very unkind - seems like a delicate balance, but in your story, it just flows naturally. you inhabit their heads, strengths, flaws and life experiences so well, like sokka’s blind defensiveness when he thinks of himself as helpless, his brashness and ingenuity when he sees zuko more as a puzzle to solve than a person. that goes even people who haven't gotten that much plot attention yet - like azula wearing blue lipstick (!!!!) foaming at the mouth from the thought. OFC she would!!! shes bold, shes confident and shes here to shine + now she allows herself to have fun! do “ugly” and “imperfect” things for fun! and all the parallels between this redeemed azula and the canon zuko we know. your oc who is zuko's guardian, who he calls grandma, hasn't even shown up yet and i already love and miss her. uncle iroh!!!! zuko assuming malice from uncle iroh who only wants the best for him - but ofc he doesnt know that! but we do, and it hurtssss katara and aang!!! the bath scene with aang, zuko’s forced vulnerability, their honesty, aang’s absolute grace towards zuko. suki and the kyoshi warriors! i trust they will get their turn to kick some ignorant prince ass. and the thing that draws me the most to this genre: the exploration of trauma in its aftermath. your storytelling is wonderfully brutal here. like… you draw a white picture by filling in all its shadowy contours…. if that makes sense. all the ways zuko’s life was affected by his father add up to the shape of his hurt. him not eating fatty foods to stay fit and "bend better". recognizing azula in his own reflection instead of himself. wearing his mom’s night clothes. im going feral feral feral whew! in my heart all this would’ve been a very pretty glittery letter sent to your author p.o. box. i love your story and it lives constantly in my imagination - thank you so much for sharing it with the world!!!

ohhhmg.... thank you for this!! i sat on it for a whole minute to respond right! i'm so glad you like it!! i love that you love all these characters' new lives <3 <3

there are so many Very Careful Lines to Walk in doing an ATLA au bc the original characters and cultural stories are really so complex. and i am FAR from an expert on east asian history / cultures but here are a few sources that I found helpful / interesting:

jinian qian's writing for The Millions, especially the articles "The Moon Is Beautiful Tonight: On East Asian Narratives" and "Light in the West and Shadows in the East"

chaoyang trap, which is not at all about ancient china but about very modern chinese cultural existence, especially on the Internet / social media / fandom. I can't say this has directly provided me with a lot of relevant info but it does help me figure out attitude / approaches / how things "translate" into western contexts

and of course there are so many A:TLA blogs that really keep the analytical conversations going and make ao3 as vibrant as it is-- @atlaculture, @boybff, @volkswagonblues, @azularedemptionarcwhen, @chitsangenthusiast, @azulasnailtech, @visit-ba-sing-se, @marriedzukka, @bleekay, @ash-and-starlight, @sokkagatekeeper, @azulapropaganda, @zukkababey, @comradekatara, @ofherlionheart, @chaoticsandstorm

okay i will stop blasting this post into all of atla tumblr's notifs but the above blogs are total Gs, 10/10, would not be as deep into my MFA in a:tla without these trailblazing scholars who went before me

have a lovely vintage kermit meme, mwah

[discotenny]

IDEK WHERE THE IMAGES R FROM IM SEEING EVERYWHERE BUT CANT FIND VIDEO BUT HEY LOOK DID U SEE THIS (from someone random blog post bc idek where to find the original)

https://www.tumblr.com/lochness-art/733533305005293568/no-one-asked-but-here-r-my-opinions-on-the-new

NEW SPRITFESSS TIME SKIP REAL TIME SMIP REALFL

NEW SPRITES NEW SPRITES AWAHHWAHFHEAJIORERER

I posted my thoughts on the outfits when that big compilation image came out but now that we have visible LEGS for the all the charas now I feel obligated to update my thoughts fdsafadsfs. Put under a cut cause I have a feeling its gonna be long fdsfdsafs

Original thought post

Original post listed in the ask

ALSo, the images are from the new hypmic flava trailer posted on their yt channel here :3

Ichiro: We saw him in full before, but I just want to reiterate how they intentionally got rid of all the connections Ichi had to the bros within his clothing. From Jiro's blue on his sleeves, the zip up shirt they all shared, and having the iconic BB lettering not there anymore- it seems like they're trying to distance Ichi's character from being so bro centric. Maybe to show growth how he's going to be more independent? It's a bit odd because being dependent isn't Ichi's flaw, that's Jiro and Saburo's... Maybe it's to show how THEYRE distancing from HIM 🤔

Jiro: This hair change is such a W for Jiro fans!! It was unclear if he actually changed it in art prior but this is a W SUCH A W!!! I miss the white stripes on his shoulders for contrast reasons but he looks just like a more mature version of his old design. It looks like he's wearing the checkered shirt instead of wrapping it around his waist which is cuter and makes much more sense fdsafdsfds.

Saburo: He looks all grown up LOL The time skip is only supposed to be a few months from what I recall, so at most he's now 15 but imo I think they're keeping them to og ages tbh. The mustard is such a good look for him! The more pastel yellow and school uniform esc coat of his old design did a lot to keep him looking / feeling young so this new design feels like he's growing up to be more comfortable to be who he is ;_;

Samatoki: He looks just as hot and he's somehow showing even MORE skin despite having a jacket lmao. Those popping buttons I see you Toki fdsafdsaf. Again he looks less like a gangster / yakuza but I wonder if they're trying to lean into that look. He pretty. Real pretty...

Jyuto: Thoughts have pretty much stayed the same, it reads like an Extra Wardrobe outfit rather than something he'd wear on the daily. In the new arc did he stop wearing his uniform since the government shut down? Did he just say fuck the dress code? I do like the outfit, it makes him look a lil more sleazy LOL

Rio: Rio looks good he looks good!! I don't have much thoughts on him since I never really do but I still find it hilarious he has the same pants as his old outfit.

Ramuda: He looks excellent as always but I do agree with the original poster that I miss his blue :C I think the yellow makes him look really young and it kinda doesn't jive with me ??? I love the hat though he looks very very cute. Ramuda also has the best shoes in the cast and I appreciate they didn't change it.

Gentaro: Gentaro is so funny I think they legitimately just made his back cape longer?? He also got rid of the high collar undershirt, which probably symbolizes that he's hiding less of himself to his friends. I love Gen but I need to see him not in motion to see how well this outfit fits him. ATM I think the longer cape messes up his silhouette by making him seem like a rectangle.

Dice: I miss the trench coat!! I miss the trench coat!!! I don't care if it would be smelly I miss the trench coat !!! I think getting rid of the black parts on his collar and outside his sleeves kind of make him look too... normal??? Like idk, where's the spice!! Give him fingerless gloves or sm shit he needs SOMETHING to make him look less like just a guy :C He's cute but I think his old fit is >>>

Jakurai: He looks SOOOOO GOOOD. We've seen this in full before but he looks CUUUTEEE. Like I'm no Jakurai stan but hooo boy that coat does smthn to me. He looks looser, like he's gonna have some fun, maybe go to the mall or smthn he looks good !!!!! Anons brought up Jakurai removing his doctor coat as a symbolism for his savior complex going away and I think it's really cool !!! One of the best new fits imo.

Hifumi: I like his og outfit much better I'm sorry 😭😭😭 I think with Materno's main color being light grey, Jakurai being in white, Doppo being a light grey now, Hifu being that off white just makes him blend together with the other members. Maybe it's the fact that he's set against a white background but he just gets lost among the other two. Having the darker colors concentrated around his head / upper body helps though.

Doppo: I love him my baby I love him I lve nye my baby my vobeoteoy frmajwfmweoijfghuefuwafjewanjmisafkowafewoawfeaiow. I say from my last post: "He’s getting loose he’s getting silly he’s CRAZY DOPPO IN THE HOUSE !!!"

Sasara: I like the outfit on it's own but I kind of... hate how it's matching with Rosho. SasaRo enjoyers rejoice but I don't like how it doesn't allow Sasara (and Rosho in turn) be his own character. It was mainly an issue I had with Rosho but this new fit puts in on Sasara too, that it kind of forces you to look at him in the lense of his relationship with Rosho rather than who he is as a chara on it's own. Also they made him less colorful :CC The bowtie is super cute though I like it.

Rosho: Rosho does look cute but again I wish it wasn't so obviously a callback to his relationship with Sasara!! I do like the hair, it's very cute fdsafdsa. He looks a lot more comfortable and a lot more confident but I'm unsure if its due to character development or just for cool points. Rosho looks like he smells good

Rei: He's too grey �� TOO GREY !!! I think getting rid of the hat and glasses was such a downgrade it does not look very good. It's a lot of my issues with Hifu's outfit without actually having a good clothing design to make up for it. I think it's nice how it could possibly be a call back to Kazuma Kiryu but that doesn't really make up for it :/

Kuko: I was wrong his hair did not get shorter 💀💀💀 But he is INCREDIBLE !! IT'S VERY GOOD!!! I have nothing to complain / nitpick about I think it's very good. (one nitpick I guess FDSAFDS. His bright hair now seems a bit out of place against the darkness of his clothing. Maybe making the purple accent stripes blue or red would have made it better? Unsure though.

Jyushi: He looks very good but I wish they gave him more interesting pants they're very underwhelming compared to his incredible top!! Like imagine sm crazy shit like lace racing stripes, some peekaboo patterns in triangles at the bottom of his flares, it would be very cute !!!

Hitoya: Very cute, very good, a stark improvement from his original look I have nothing else to say fdskafdasfdsa. Again, a 35 year old baby.

I think for some of the characters the outfits really really really really work (Doppo, Hitoya, Jakurai) but for a lot of them I think their original looks were much more iconic and much more fitting to themselves (Dice, Sasara, Rei). I hope we still get content put out with their original outfits because I'd legitimately be sad to never see Dice in his trench coat again :C

[bmpmp3]

I FINALLY watched that barbie movie that came out, i watched it last night! it was cute and pretty solid i thought. and then immediately after finishing that i watched the 1989 found footage tv movie ufo abduction/the mcpherson tape?

barbie was mostly very funny (that smallpox joke is inexcusable tho) it seems aimed for maybe a tween-teen kind of audience? i havent heard of many big huge movies aimed at that demographic recently so thats really nice

you know i was worried id be insufferable to both barbie movie fans and barbie movie haters because i have 1) a doll hobby 2) too much interest in doll history and 3) a complete lack of trust and respect for mattel as a company in the past decade and i figured you wouldnt be able to talk to me about it without me um-actually-ing every two seconds BUT it wasnt as egregious as i expected in regards to doll history myths

im especially glad they didnt call stuff like happy family midge and earring magic ken like "recalled" or "banned" or whatever 'cause thats just one of those myths LOL BUT discontinued is a weird term... yeah they were discontinued but like. all dolls are some day. from what i can tell both those dolls werent even like prematurely (heh) discontinued or anything most reports seem that happy family midge sold okay (although there seems to have been controversies at least with the wedding ring and cardboard cutout husband situations) and earring magic ken probably didnt sell well. because hes ken. the earring magic barbies in the line probably sold better LOL i guess a better term could have been like. controversial barbies? infamous barbies? sugar's daddy ken is true and hilarious tho, although if i remember correctly it was like a collectors doll meant for adults that just never got released in the first place

I DID love tanner's inclusion. i love that stupid shitting dog so much i wanted it so bad as a kid but i didnt care about the barbie so it would have been a waste of a playset

speaking of not caring about the barbie so like. i didnt really like barbies as a kid. i didnt really like dolls. i was a furry i only liked animal shaped toys LOL i did have one barbie i picked out myself, fairytopia kindlee who i loved and adored and lost and i dream about her forever. but yeah nothing less interesting to me both as a child and as an adult than a default face sculpt blue eyed blonde barbie toy, which is, as most adults interesting in the modern day toy industry can attest, the reason for our disdain for mattel HFJDKHFDJS actually its more than that - weirdly inflated prices for cheaply made clothes and low quality printing, strangely dated fashion, the weird all or nothing either bare minimum 5 points of articulation or full out double jointed mtm bodies (where is single jointed elbows...i miss her....), THE DECADE LONG REIGN OF TERROR OF THE GLUE HEAD (although we're finally past that), why are those collectors dolls so expensive they look the same quality, why did they make that collectors mermaid ken white from the brown guy in the concept art, in canada the pricing and availability is wacky so i imagine its even worse everywhere else outside the US, this is a personal thing but why does every mattel doll ive ever owned like combust at its joints randomly. am i cursed? do i have a mattel curse? ive been thinking about this for years why does the plastic just disintigrate the second it enters my home what god did i anger. what plastic god did i anger. help me my bloodline has been cursed by some sort of polyvinyl based deity beyond my comprehension

anyway as i was saying it was a little sobering watching a movie with a good fashion and prop and set budget do a take on the memories of what barbie dolls used to be and then thinking about that absolutely dire state we're in rn. bro i kept looking at outfits like modern mattel would never. theyre too busy making half printed t shirt dresses with a random ruffle attached on the side <3 but vintage mattel would also not be as diverse. although neither mattel has an actually fat doll so. um. thats the saddest um-actually im gonna do :(

ive been joking to myself for years that barbie is the name of the species, ken might be some kind of subspecies, so it is funny to see the brand in both real life stores and also this movie lean into that. barbie really is a species. they do move in herds. wait im getting distracted anyway years ago barbie had a big refresh where they leaned into the idea that anyone can be barbie - everyone is barbie: they brought out new body types (standard, tall, short, and slightly curvy) which was a big step, a bigger range of skintones and all kinds of new face molds and screenings, also theres like bald barbies and barbies with prosthetics and wheelchair barbies are made way more often. and all this is fantastic. but unfortunately the blonde blue eyed millie sculpts still haunt most non-fashionista releases.... stereotypical barbie u dont know what u are.... its a shame they didnt reference the millie sculpt in the movie i woulda died LOL

but i always thought it was pretty wack that they made all these cool dolls and then relegated them to wear t shirt dresses for eternity. i like that the budget line is so diverse and i dont even mind the lack of articulation that much (although i do miss basic 9 point articulation where are my elbows and knees) but GOD those outfits. can be ROUGH. and WHY do they never put like half of the diverse dolls in other playsets WHY cant basketball barbie be bald WHEN will i get that prosthetic leg barbie as a fairy like youve put all this effort into all this diversity and then ur doing NOTHING with it mattel im begging u. im begging u. make a fantasy wheelchair barbie i know you can do it. i know you can do it

im not even talking about the movie anymore sorry im just complaining about barbie dolls even tho im not a huge barbie collector JFKDHJRKF i was just picky about toys as a child and i want kids nowadays to get cool dolls too. i think a kid deserves a nice thing to play with that looks like them or like their family or other people around them that also allows to imaginative play you know

okay. okay in the context of the movie its fine and makes sense but lemme tell u. being so deep in the current state of mattel hearing america ferrera's character suggest "ordinary barbie" made me fucking jump out of my seat and point at my laptop screen i almost said outloud "YOUUU" jgekfjfd it was her.... she did this.... jk jk its a sweet message in the movie but just so u know in mattel's mind "ordinary barbie" translates to overpriced cheaply made sack dress barbie. orz

wait back on topic back on topic its a nice movie, im glad it resonates with a lot of people. the plot was a little strange but i dont mind, the sets and outfits and everything was so good anyway, i loved that big huge chunky necklace as a touch, its some fashion brand symbol i dont remember sowwy but i like how huge it is LOL also the music was pretty great, i liked the needle drops and the music composed for the movie was fun too, what was i made for is fantastic but i knew that already its been a hit for a while now and i heard a vocal synth cover of it that sounded nice so i was already on board HJKDHJKFDS sometimes the. racial aspect of the movie was. jarring? they really only mention race like thrice (one of those times being the aforementioned awful smallpox joke) which. you know sometimes i get a little annoyed with a lot of contemporary movies and shows bringing up race just for little quips and jokes here and there while completely ignoring anything substantial about the topic, i know this is a tween movie with a two hour run time and they wanted to focus but i dunno man. it always feels like they're making a joke about elephants while the ignoring the elephant in the room staring u down. but whatever. i'll just lock someone into an unskippable cutscene conversation about history in regards to race and dolls irl later LOL cute movie tho. i like when movies have cool sets and outfits

NOW to the second half of that very odd double feature i gave myself last night UFO ABDUCTION its basically considered the first found footage horror movie, as a tv movie from 1989, and lemme tell u IT IS hard to watch LOL not because its like scary but like. because its a little bit bad <3 but its okay i dont mind, the main character behind the camera got pretty insufferable near the end (would not shut up and made it hard to hear the other actors orz) but it was only an hour and had like no budget - plus i love seeing where so much of the genre came from. im glad to know people screaming at the main character to shut that damn camera off has been here since the very beginning. i also loved the stupid alien costumes its such a shame theyre only in there for like 3 scenes they were the best part: genuinely kind of creepy at the first sight at the ufo landing because theyre so far away and low quality, and also really silly and goofy when they walk right up to the camera <3 <3 <3

i truly madly deeply genuinely without a shred of irony adore found footage so im always happy to see more! even when its bad :) i like it when cameras shake and people scream OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT

[lovely-echoo]

Sleepy Bois Inc x FranBow!Reader

In-game AU

Part 1/? Pt.2

Plantonic!SBI x Young!Reader

(10/11 years old)

OneShot/Drabble(?)

Genderneutral reader (they/them) 💜

INFO; If you haven't played or seen game play of Fran Bow then you can skip this if you'd like. If you don't care then go ahead.

Summary; Basically if you've seen/played the game you should know how this goes, you take place of Fran. So you go/went through the same things she did and you still have Mr. Midnight. This takes place while Fran is still in the mental hospital and then got teleported near the SBI.

Honestly I kept thinking about this but was afraid to request it to anyone so I'm doing it my myself-

If I get any info wrong, I'm sorry! I rewatched Markiplier's game play so it shouldn't be way off.

P.s not everything is described the same.

(^ art by sunquids on twt)

CW/TW: mentions/includes of cussing, gore, death, blood, consumption of medication, sexual assault (brief mentions of Damian/The King)

Fluff/Normal

(Angst if you squint)

How you ended up there - How you met Philza and Technoblade

As you were walking around the hospital, you decided to take a pill to see if it'll help.

You watched as your vision blurred and some sort of demonic noises rang in your ears.

After a few seconds your vision cleared up, you took a look around the front desk.

The once dull and lifeless room had turned into this even duller and just plain deathly like room.

Blood was everywhere, random body parts of babies where thrown around. A skeletal figure was hung with what looked like an umbilical cord wrapped around its thin bones, it was connected to this baby covered by a blue blanket.

Just about everything looked grotesque.

Suddenly the floor ahead of you opened and this slimy black tentacle like arm grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in.

It seemed you may have passed out during your fall because you woke up to the sounds of hissing and supposedly two men.

Oh and let's not forget the killer headache causing the ringing in your ears. :)

You rubbed your eyes as you sat up, the light around you seemed much brighter than before.

You looked at the two men in front of you and then glanced down, you spotted Mr. Midnight!

His fur was spiked up and his ears were flat against his head. He seemed to be trying to protect you from the men.

Ignoring their presence you immediately scooped up your precious fur baby in your arms.

Your mind completely forgot about the fact there are two strange looking men in front of you.

A few droplets of water dripped down your (S/C) cheeks onto your (F/C) shirt/dress.

You started crying, so much happened in a short period of time and you found your cat you oh so desperately tried to find.

It panicked one of the adults. Said adult was an average tall man with slightly longer blond hair than average, he also had a green and white striped bucket hat. But what stuck out the most was the large pair of wings behind his back.

At first you thought that it was your pills fault but everywhere around you looked….

Normal?

It seemed like your meds wore off while you supposedly passed out.

But that doesn’t help or ease you at all. If the side effects wore off then how the hell did he have wings?!

The blond walked towards you slowly, like you were an injured puppy. His blue eyes roamed around your body, as if studying your every mouvements.

The other man who was beside him earlier seemed to tense up and looked at him as if he grew another head. He was on edge you assumed.

But he looked even weirder to you. He had long pink hair tied into a loose braid falling over his shoulder. Was it natural? He also had tusks peeking out from his bottom lip, they were large but not enough to be in the way. His skin seemed to be on the pinker side, it was roughed up with scars and calloused in certain areas. You noticed he had pig ears poking out his crown. Is he a king of sorts? Wait, that reminds you of someome... Oh! The king of course!

Ah yes, the king. You quite missed him actually, he was playful and let you use his cane- sword to get a key. But he didn't know about that part. You wonder if he's doing alright right know, the asylum sucks. And the shadow thing next to him said weird things to. Who exactly is the holy man? Why'd the shadow say he took off his clothes?

You couldn't dwell on it to much as you got distracted by the approaching man.

He reached out his hand to stop the winged male. “Phil-”

But the man named ‘Phil’ interrupted the crowned male by putting up his hand. He stopped his hand and let it limp to his side.

“It’s alright Tech, they seem harmless.” ‘Phil’ reassured, though ‘Tech’ nodded his head with a stern expression. There was still hesitance in his sharp red eyes.

‘Phil’ took the same hand he put up and reached it out to you. A soft and kind look in his eyes, you could’ve gotten lost in them if you weren’t careful.

“You alright there kid?” He asked, crouching down to meet your height from where you sat.

“Y-yeah, I think so…” You winced, your throat was hoarse and dry. You peered at ‘Phil’ as he took out this glass bottle with what you assumed was water.

He handed you the fragile bottle, he saw the look of hesitance in your childlike eyes. But something about them set off alarms in his head, they were dull. There’s nothing wrong with that of course! But they were too dull, at least for a mere kid.

He recognized a glint of trauma in your (Eye Shape) eyes, those beautiful (E/C) orbs had seen something they shouldn’t have. Haven’t they?

“Don’t worry mate, it’s fresh water.” He examined the way you handled the cork, you were inexperienced. He could tell you’ve never needed to do it, but why? It’s really the only way so far to keep water with you.

Did you not have any?

While he was lost in thought, you just had noticed he had an accent of sorts. Nothing wrong with it, you've just never heard of someone with it.

(^ Ignore that if you are british)

While the winged male was off in his own world the piglin hybrid watched as you sniffed the clear liquid in suspicion before letting your cat smell it as if you were looking for their approval.

To his surprise they did give it to you, the black cat nodded it’s head and squeaked out a meow. That strangely sounded like a yes- but he dismissed the thought. Probably was just the voices fucking with him.

You gulped down the water as if you hadn’t had any for months.

‘Why tf are they so desperate-’ ‘lowkey kinda concerned lmao’ ‘they look like they’d be an orphan tho’ ‘lmao maybe’ ‘idc about the kid, i want the cat’ ‘absolutely-’ ‘Nah fuck the cat, im allergic.’ ‘lol and?’ 'PFT ANY ASKERS???'

Those were all different voices speaking and overlapping each other.

Technoblade sighed as he glanced at his father, he knew him on the back of his hand. He let him be and slowly walked next to Phil and kneeled down.

“What’s your name kid?” he asked, taking the empty bottle you had handed him. “(Y/n), (Y/n) (L/n)/Bow.” You bluntly answered, looking at him in the eyes. He noticed how bloodshot they were, I mean you did cry not even 5 minutes ago.

"What's yours?" You questioned tilting your head a bit in the process.

Unbeknownst to you, some voices in a certain someone's head were losing their shit, squealing and chanting ‘protecc tiny bean’ over and over again.

"The name's Technoblade, but you can call me Techno." Strange name in your book but your not the one to judge. You simply nodded your head in acknowledgement.

"That guy is Philza, but you can call him Phil." He pointed his thumb to the unfocused man. Technoblade or Techno- cleared his throat.

“You’ve got somewhere to stay? Where are your parents?” “Why can’t you mind your business?”

Techno’s eyes twitched in annoyance and his teeth clenched to hold back any crude words.

Although he noticed the flash of pain in those dull (E/C) orbs of the mentions of your parents.

He sighed once again, something you noticed he did a lot. At least, so far he did.

“Look kid, do you have a place to stay or not?”

And that's how you ended up meeting your new family. . . <3

I may include a taglist if anyone's up to be tagged lmao

[ghostie-luther]

My Ricky and horace relationship headcanons from my modern!foster au!

Their relationship is brotherly, of course. Also they didn't interact in the books at all but fuck canon because I said so

Anybody who's seen both Ricky and Horace in the same vicinity have to immediately self isolate and collect their thoughts for a few days.

"Horace is so smart and careful, he's also kind of scared of everything which makes him EXTRA careful" no there is not a single braincell between them

They have been chased by cops after Ricky, in a car that was not his, started doing donuts at 1am in a deserted car park with music blasting and Horace screaming his heart out in joy. The windows were open, people were not amused.

Horace has had Ricky carry him in probably every place in florida. On his shoulders.

Does he get off when confronted with the doors of supermarkets? No. He ducks.

They both think its completely normal.

Horace and Ricky met after Ricky started dating this girl who was in the foster system, and her and horace were in the same shitty foster home.

The relationship crashed and burned after a few months but they still hold flames for eachother years on.

Horace was 10 when he met Ricky, a month after being fostered in this new home. Ricky was 14, Amy was 15 (his ex).

(Now 14, 18 and 19 respectively).

Everyone thinks Ricky was a bad influence but in fact its lowkey the opposite.

And people in the fandom like to laugh bcs "haha if Horace met Ricky and saw his hair and clothes he'd be SCANDALISED!"

ricky cries over those dog eating ASMRS and Horace is currently hiding that hes wanted in France.

(Just some car theft, joyriding, and him train hopping illegally through multiple other countries LOL its fine, he's fine).

(In my texting fic horace is like the perfect little gentleman until its revealed he knows Ricky bcs Jacob adds him to the group but I like these headcanons better they're the oGS-)

Horace dyed his hair MONTHLY before he ended up with miss P, and helped Ricky dye his for the first time.

Things escalated, Ricky got some wonky spikes, loved them, went to school with them, got laughed at, then beat up the people who laughed at him

Its fine, he's grown into them now.

So far horace has had his hair black, white, pastel pink, and in one embarrassing instance he doesn't talk about, seaweed green.

Ricky has had red hair, blue hair, purple, black, electric yellow with green tips, and his favourite, green hair with black tips.

Horace has diagnosed ADHD and depression, and he's currently tricking Ricky and Amy into thinking hes getting his anti depressants delivered to miss Ps house. She has no idea, and they're piling up through the letterbox of his old abandoned foster home.

He DOES take his ADHD medication though! Because if he doesn't he makes bad decisions.

He likes to jump on the furniture

He tried to go cold turkey for a week to see what would happen. Ricky held him down and sat on his chest until he took them. Never again.

Jacob found out about Ricky and horaces relationship after letting himself into rickys apartment when his parents weren't home, the way he always used to.

He spent ten minutes trying to talk to Ricky, who was turning red and progressively sinking guiltily into his battered sofa, before Horace, an hour into minor breakdown #3 of the month, walked out of the bathroom with black dye on his hair.

"Jake please I tried to stop him"

Jacob, scrubbing Horaces head furiously over the edge of the bath: SHES GOING TO KILL ME

"Emma or the bird?"

"BOTH"

Horace has some pretty bad habits, and so does Ricky.

For example, the drinking and smoking.

(I started drinking properly around 13 and smoking at 15 so I'm just kind of projecting onto my boys im sorry)

Ricky smokes about a pack every three days, horace can stretch his out for about a month, if he's stingy.

Ricky doesn't buy them for him, he has no idea where he gets them from, and will normally pluck the cigarette from the youngers hand if he lights it up in front of him.

(He won't do it some nights though. When Horaces eyes are glazed and his hands shake so much he can barely bring it to his lips, and it seems like he can't bring himself to speak. Those nights Ricky finds himself offering one from his own pack).

They also have a few drinks together, on special occasions. Just cans of really cheap and dirty beer from whatever petrol station Ricky can pretend he's 21 in. It tastes like grainy shit, but they both drink it from spite.

Ricky and Amy will never allow Horace to even look at drugs. Ever.

(He hasn't told them of the state his father left his house. Of what was cooking in the kitchen. Of what some junkie jokingly brought to his lips as a fucking child at one of his fathers nightly parties, what smoke he grew up in, walking through the corridors of his house.)

So we all know Horace has prophetic nightmares right? So in this AU because there's no peculiarities theyre just nightmares. Sometimes he'll go days without sleeping, only for Ricky to wrap a blanket around his head and bring him on his lap.

Anywhere. Anytime.

Once he appeared at Horaces school during lunch and forced the poor 14 year old to submit on a random gym mat.

He got to skip maths though??? So it was okay.

This is getting really long but I have MILLIONS of headcanons for this lmk if you want me to make some more posts on their relationship and their relationships with the rest of the family rkdjwnak

[orionwhispers]

Swan Song// Thomas Shelby 🍸

(A.N )- holy shit. holy shit. you guys... its finally finished. it took months but its finally done!!here is the long awaited and highly requested lolita wedding. im so happy you guys finally get to read it! i feel like my baby has all grown up lol. there might be errors and stuff bc its 16k words and im exhausted but hopefully you enjoy it. thanks for being so wonderful and patient. ily) also sorry for all the pics in the moodboard being white i try and be inclusive but smh pinterest sucks sometimes, anyone is welcome here. we are all hoes for tommy)

Trigger Warnings; so much fucking fluff, implied smut, some angst and mention of past injury.

PART 1  PART 2

It was one of those dreamy midsummer nights.

When even the sun didn’t want to retire for the evening; the sky a rich, milky blue, and the air still thick and warm like honey. You were on the window seat, clad in one of Ada’s many wedding presents, a blush silk slip and matching robe, a gift she had brought back from her week in Boston.

You were happy. Irrevocably so. The floor and love seat crowded with the people you held closest to your heart, the room smelt of expensive vanilla candles and strawberry wine, and the deep throaty rumble of laughter filled every empty space.

It was perfect. Well - almost.

You missed him.

It was only one night apart, you had spent longer times separated when he went out of town for business or you had a rambunctious girls weekend with Ada and Esme - but still you missed him entirely.

You knew he missed you too. That much was obvious from the disdain on his face when Arthur and Polly laid bare their plans for the night before your wedding. There hadn’t been time for an engagement party let alone a bachelor party - a few weeks after announcing the news Tommy had been due to attend to some business in New York, and he was adamant that you were to come along. He wanted to treat you, show you the vibrant city and all of the glitz and glamour of Broadway, but you knew that was only part of the reason. He didn’t like you out of his sight for too long, the wound on your chest might have been puckering into a scar but the pain was still fresh in his mind and his overprotectiveness had tripled.

After a brilliant few weeks away in the big apple, filled with passionate, breathless kisses and red satin dresses and driving hand in hand down the Brooklyn bridge, you finally returned home - but much like the city you had just left, Thomas Shelby had no time for sleeping. He was knee deep in new deals and navigating his partnership with Alfie Solomon’s, as well as his new venture of manufacturing gin. Despite the long nights and the early mornings, you never felt neglected. You loved him, all of him, and that included his workhorse nature and tenacity. And besides, he struggled being away from you, finding himself noticing the lack of warmth in his office, when at home you would be perched on his lap, pressing dizzying kisses to the base of his neck. He missed the sound of your laugh and the way that you giggled, biting your lip innocently, making him want to bite it even harder.

He loved you, and that god awful summer had shown him that all he truly cared about was having you by his side. So for every night he was at the office, or every morning he was out of bed before you woke up, he made it up to you with a weekend away, or a signed first edition of your favourite book, or a piece of jewellery he had made for you. They might have been material things, but the meaning couldn’t be clearer, he was hopelessly, dangerously, completely, in love with you.

His main present to you though, arrived a few days after his sudden proposal in his office.

He originally wanted to take you into London, show you the finest jewellers by the water and let you choose anything that caught your eye - only the best for his best girl - but, after everything, his plans had changed.

Truthfully, marriage had been on the tip of his tongue since that very first day he locked eyes with you in the Garrison. He knew he had to have you, even before he knew your name, and by the time the two of you first kissed, tasting like sweet strawberries and cigarettes, he knew you would be the woman to take his.

But things got in the way. Marriage wasn’t as simple as it might have been for the people you passed in the streets. Marriage to him was like putting a target on your back, it meant your entire life being intertwined with his, the whole world knowing that you were the woman that made him fall to his knees. It would take everything from you, and the darkness would slowly start to seep into the light that surrounded you, and he needed to keep you safe for as long as he could. He knew he was going to marry you, it was just as clear in his mind as it was that he was the leader of the Blinders, you were the missing piece in his puzzle.

But of course, his plans were blown to smithereens when the bullet shattered your collarbone that summers eve. His visions of red roses and rich wine and getting on one knee, feeling like a goddamn kid again when you gave him that smile as he pushed the ring onto your finger, were flung to the wind. And instead, his honeyed words were swapped with breathless desire and need, whispered in your hair as you were cradled in his arms, in the afterglow of such a dreadful day.

The one thing he knew he could get right, however, was the ring.

It had to be special. It had to be you. Something soft and sweet and gentle, but with an edge - sharp and strong and beautiful. Of course, it would be impossible to find any diamond or pearl that could compete with your beauty, but he wanted you to have the best.

That wasn’t the only reason though.

It had more to do with the jewel that had hung around your neck that day at the ball, the one that haunted him when the sky got dark and you were fast asleep beside him. He had come so close to losing you, only a hair away from the girl he loved being buried, and the thought was driving him mad. He controlled every aspect of his life, but this was something completely out of his grasp, and he needed to stop his dangerous thoughts.

He hadn’t been superstitious since he was a boy chasing his brothers through fields of wildflowers and listening to Polly’s ramblings by the fire, but he had to rule out every possibility. So a few days after he proposed, and with the best doctor in Birmingham giving you the all clear (and triple checking that the house was secured and being watched by practically a small army of Blinders - and a stern warning to Michael, Isaiah and Finn that if even a hair on top of your head was misplaced by the time he got back, none of them would be able to have any children)- he set off.

He told you he was signing a deal in Manchester, but he was really only a few miles away, at the campsite where he had spent the majority of his youth. It was all rolling hills of deep emerald and jade, and fog that curled and twisted around his ankles, and for the first time in a long time, he felt out of place. He had chosen the ring with the help of Polly, who was adamant she knew your taste better than him, something he vehemently denied.

It was beautiful and unique, just like you, and he never felt such a profound rush of love quite like when he pictured slotting it onto your finger. It was big, but not overly so - nothing tacky or too much, Tommy knowing that you never wanted anything glimmering or gaudy and that you’d probably hit him and then faint if you knew the price. But, in his eyes - nothing was too expensive for his little girl. Besides, he particularly liked the way the ring shone in the light, imagining all the men that would fuck off and leave with their tail between their legs when they saw it and realised that the most beautiful woman in the room was already spoken for.

The diamond was brilliant and a “Princess” cut, something that made him smirk because it was one of his favourite pet names for you, and he couldn’t imagine anything more fitting. The band was solid gold, two different paths that intertwined and curled like summer vines, making him think of the lightness and whimsy you carried around you. What really sold him though, were the soft, twinkling rose quartz gems that cocooned the diamond.

“For protection.” Polly had muttered as he twisted the ring between his fingers under the dim lighting in the store. He had rolled his eyes when she spoke but secretly the meaning behind them made his gut twist. Protection was something that he needed you to have in abundance, even if it came from small crystals the size of a half grain of rice.

The ring was so perfect. So rare and alluring and undeniably you, and he walked out the door with the feeling of pure content, something that only even happened when he thought of you. But he knew there was more for him to do. He sent Polly home, ignoring the raised eyebrows she gave him and brushed off the sixth sense his Aunt had always had. And with the ring safely nestled in its plush navy box in his breast pocket, he drove off.

The campsite felt like the past. It felt as though he was visiting somewhere deep in the confines of his mind, somewhere that he had locked and stored away and forgotten about, only now being able to see through the thick haze of smog. He met the elderly woman by the doors of her caravan, noticing the difference between his sharp suit and the furs and shawls she had covering her body. She smiled and invited him in, pouring him a cup of something that smelt like sap and crisp autumn apples.

“It’s been a long time, Thomas.” She said, eyes so dark they almost looked black as she watched him curiously.

“That it has.”

“What brings you to this part of the woods then? I thought you would have forgotten about the rest of us.”

It was a dig, but he refused to rise to it. He wasn’t in the mood for petty jibes.

“I’ve been busy.”

“So I hear.” She exhaled, stirring her tea meticulously with a golden spoon. “They tell me you’re practically running the country.”

He smiled softly and falsely, digging his hand deep into his pocket. “Let’s cut to the chase, eh?” He pulled out the small box, opening it in his palm, and twisting it round so that the clear cut diamond was twinkling right before her.

She grinned, leaning forward on her elbows to get a better look. “It’s beautiful. Must have cost a pretty penny.”

“The woman it’s for is worth it.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“I know why you’re here,Tom. The boys told me what happened at that party of yours.”

He cleared his throat, not liking the lack of control he had over the conversation.

“Right, well then. Just tell me what I need to know.”

She closed her eyes, muttering something under her breath, and Tommy sat back on his haunches, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. Was he really fucking doing this? Sitting in a caravan in the middle of fucking nowhere getting his jewellery cleansed by some batty old woman he knew as a child? It went against everything he believed in, and was the exact opposite of the calm and level headed way he ran his business.

But then he thought of you. And your light. Your sweetness and the sound of your laugh, the curve of your lips and the flowers you wore in your hair and the grass stains on your little white dresses. He thought of the scar that ran along your collarbone, and the feeling of white hot desperation that had coursed through him when he that you might not wake up.

You were worth it. Fuck sensibilities and rationality. He’d drive to the fucking ends of the earth if it meant that it would keep you even just a little bit safer.

After what felt like an age, the woman opened her eyes and raised her head. She used the edge of one of her many colourful scarves to wipe the surface of the gems, her hands moving in quick, rhythmic circles.

“It’s clean.” She said. “There’s nothing bad on it. At least, not that I can see.”

Tommy felt the anvil strapped to his chest suddenly fill and float like a balloon, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he brushed off the relief flooding though his body, and straightened up. “Well I came to the best.”

She smiled, both smugly and bashfully, the way most women felt around Tommy. “That you did my love.”

His fingertips merely brushed the top of the roll of money he had stuffed in his pocket, and the elderly woman sat back, shaking her head at him.

“It’s on the house. Maybe you can bring your girl around one day, I know we’d all like to meet her.”

Not fucking likely he thought. No way in hell would he bring you to a place like this, whilst he still had good memory’s of his youth, he didn’t trust the people that still lurked in the fields around this place.

Wanting to settle the score, he held out a wad of notes. “I insist.”

“And I decline.”

He didn’t like the way the conversation had ended, it didn’t sit quite right with him. He liked to make his deals as open and closed as possible, money was the best way to seal a deal, he didn’t work with favours. “Right, well. Thank you for everything.”

He looked out of the windows of the caravan as he gathered his things. It was starting to get dark, the sky blushing like summer strawberries and freshly sliced peaches, the air still a little thick from the heat. All that he wanted now was to get home to you, everything else had faded to static in his ears. He bit back a grin as he thought of how you would smile, all teeth and round cheeks and wide eyes when he showed you the ring. He imagined it sitting pretty on your finger, the nudge of the jewel against his when you intertwined hands and the way it would dazzle at night, not nearly as beautiful as you as you laid beneath him, sweaty and breathless and ethereal.

As sudden as a gunshot, sharp words from behind him cut through his daydreams like a blade.

“Have you ever considered, Tom?”

He merely paused, not even bothering to spin on his heel and face her. He knew what she was going to say and yet it still felt like a knife digging into a fresh wound as she continued speaking.

“That maybe it’s not the jewels? Maybe it’s you?”

He wasn’t the type of man to back down from a fight, and he was the unrivalled champion of maintaining his composure and remaining calm under every type of pressure, but even he couldn’t deny the shivers that twisted around the bottom of his spine at the implication of her words.

“Yes. I have.”

He could feel her shifting behind him, ready to lure him in, tell him the thing that kept him up at night and clawed at his throat when he watched you sleep; that perhaps he was the poison that seemed to follow you like a dark cloud. He was much too selfish, far too infatuated with you to keep you at arms length. The deafening ache that perhaps you were the reason he finally felt alive, and that maybe he was the reason you would end up buried. 

He didn’t allow himself to think any more, tossing his cash towards her, not even bothering to check if she caught it or if it landed on the floor, instead he raised a hand and walked off, murmuring under his breath. “Keep the change.”

He waited until he was back in his car, with a cigarette between his lips and the sour smell of petrol and ash filling his lungs before he finally inhaled, glad to be out of the fucking fresh air.

—————————————————————

Your reaction was even better than he imagined.

It was dark by the time he eventually got home, and he didn’t miss the buzz of warmth that pulling into the driveway brought. It was bizarre, he had spent so long feeling nothing that meeting you had reignited everything inside of him, he felt like a boy again, nervous and elated to see the girl he loved.

The lights were on, reflecting through the windows like flickering candles, and a pleasant yellow glow engulfed the shadows in the gravel. He could hear voices, (mainly Arthur’s), deep low laughter and the sound of music all throughout the halls. He winced slightly, hoping that whatever ruckus his family had brought wasn’t keeping you from resting. He was certain that this impromptu gathering was his brothers idea of raising your spirits, but Tommy would have felt much more comfortable knowing that you were peaceful and recovering somewhere safe, knowing that you were far too polite to send his family away.

“What the fucks all this noise, eh?” He shouted as entered, his tone was sharp but even he couldn’t stop the tiny grin making its way onto his face as he watched Arthur and John drunkenly dance in the living room.

“Ay! You’re back? How did it go?” Arthur asked, holding out his arms in greeting as his speech slurred.

“Everything’s in order.”

“Hurrah!” Arthur swayed on unsteady legs like a sailor on the rough seas, and

“Bloody hell Arthur, what the fuck are you on?” John laughed,

“It’s a celebration, brother.”

Tommy pushed him aside playfully, tuning out the sound of their bickering as he strode further in the living room, eyes brushing past all of the faces crowded around, his heart stopping when he finally found the one he was after.

You were curled up on the sofa by the fireplace with your legs tucked underneath you, your face flushing deliciously, the spark slowly reigniting inside of you - and Tommy swore that he had never seen something so beautiful. Michael, Isaiah and Finn were crowded around you, looking much younger than their years, playing cards in their hands and big, toothy grins, occasionally accusing the other of cheating. Polly watched from beside the fireplace, something that had once been the beating heart of the house, a place where the two of you coexisted so magnificently. He thought of the flames from the logs and also from deep inside of him, devouring you completely on the hardwood floors, the sound of your moans mixing with the crackle and snap of the kindling. He hadn’t looked at the fireplace since you had been shot, it was too intimate, too personal, memories of early morning laughter and pure carnal hunger when the sun set, his fingertips pressing against the softness of your throat as you melted like paper under him.

Now though, it had been filled with empty wine bottles stuffed with candles, wax dripping and melting down their green glass necks, the room smelling like cherries and lavender. He knew you had put them there, and it made him exhale, because it no longer hurt to look at it, and he knew that eventually, the fireplace would be yours again.

Polly caught his eye from over the sofa, hers glittering and twinkling with suspicion of where her nephew had been, taking a long, poignant drag from her cigarette. He ignored her. He had no doubts that she was completely aware of what he had been doing, and that imagining him back at his roots was conjuring a particular mental image in her head, but right now that was the least of his concern.

He tore though the living room, almost colliding with a dozen bodies, it seemed Arthur had dug up every close acquaintance within twenty miles and invited them over. The room smelt like sour whisky and spilled wine, and he swore he could see his expensive furniture lowering in price by the minute.

He loved his family, he would do anything for them, but God he wished to the highest heavens that they would fuck off so he could spend some time with his girl. If it was up to him the house would be completely empty, nothing but the sound of your laugh and the thump of your heart, fuck everything else.

You were wrapped up in your poker game, head tilted back as you laughed at something Finn had whispered to you, the small creamy corner of your bandage poking out from the collar of your dress. Tommy swore inwardly, the sight making him falter. As quickly as the feeling came, he brushed it away, not wanting you to see him worry, not wanting himself to fall into old and dangerous habits.

Finn saw him first, his youngest brother looking impossibly boyish and playful as he laughed with his friends, a world away from the man he tried so hard to be. One look and he was on his feet, quickly swatting Isaiah and Michael and gathering the cards in his hands. Tommy patted his shoulder fondly, his eyes fixed firmly on you, watching your pupils dilate and sparkle when you finally caught sight of him.

“You’re back.”

Breathless. Angelic. Innocent. It took everything in him to not gather you in his arms and take you upstairs all for himself.

“And you should be in bed.”

He sat down next to you, his knee brushing against yours.

You smelt of home.

Of sweet cinnamon and strawberries and wildflowers, messy hair and woodsmoke. You finally smelt like yourself, not like the chemicals and disinfectants that now filled the halls, making him want to set his whole damn estate alight because the reminders of what they caused were too painful.

“I’ve been resting for weeks, Tommy. Let me have a little fun.”

You gave him that smile. The one that made his knees buckle. The one that would have made him sign his company over to you if you asked - not that there would ever be a time he would say no to you. It was bizarre, how you were sitting there with no makeup on, your hair tied back with a baby pink ribbon, and you were undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Alright, alright, enough with the pouting.” He winked at you, making a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupt in your stomach. If it had just been the two of you he would have leant in and kissed you stupid, but he didn’t want to give his drunken brothers something else to whoop and tease about. He would save his romantics for later, when you were alone, and he could take his well earned time and leisure to ravage you.

He pulled you close to him, wrapping an arm around the edge of the sofa and over your shoulders, keeping you as close and protected as he possibly could, the simple action comforting him immensely. You snuggled into him, his body so warm and firm and safe, and he pressed a kiss to your neck as you relaxed, his lips scorching you like a brand. He felt his whole body exhale, feeling at ease because he was with the people he loved most in the world, with you tucked into his side like you were carved there, and the feel of your fingertips ghosting over his chest. His life was so fast paced and hectic and his mind was whirring a mile a minute, but at that moment, the there was no where else he would rather be.

His patience lasted exactly 47 minutes. His composure and lenience with his family finally snapped when Arthur bet John that he could do a better handstand than him, proceeded to leap onto his hands, flail about disastrously and then crash right into the console table, shattering an array of fine china and imported vases.

“Oh John, look what you did ya’ stupid cunt.” He said when he got to his feet, his hands slashed to ribbons and blood dripping onto the carpet. Esme rolled her eyes, grabbing her brother in law by the collar and dragging him out of the room to bandage him up before he inevitably passed out from all the alcohol.

Tommy straightened out next to you as Mary quickly rushed in and gathered the glimmering shards with a dustpan and brush. He heaved himself to his feet, reluctant to withdraw from your side, and he cleared his throat once before speaking. “Alright, that’s enough for tonight, everybody fuck off.”

You rolled your eyes at his terrible bedside manner, tugging on the edge of his rolled sleeve playfully, making a small smile cross the edge of his lips. Polly pressed a hand to your shoulder as she herded the boys out of the room, each of them mumbling drunken goodbyes and pressing whisky stained kisses to your cheeks, mindful of the placement of their hands and your scar, mainly because of Tommy’s sharp, warning glare.

Johnny Dogs grumbled something along the lines of parting, but instead passed out face down on the carpet, his body rising and falling with heavy snores. Tommy waited rather impatiently as you said goodbye to the remaining guests, wanting nothing more than some well earned solace with his girl.

When you were finally alone, the moon dancing across your skin through the large open windows, soft music filling the room and the smell of sticky split wine following you both, he pulled you into his arms. He looked at your face and smiled. You were ethereal. Golden and glowing in the twilight, eyes sparkling like diamonds. Your face had changed a little in the time you had been together, your body and mind maturing and adapting, but you still looked so young. A breath of clear, fresh air amongst all of the smoke.

He lifted his hand to wipe a few specks of shimmering rose rouge from your cheeks, evidently left from where Esme hugged you goodbye, but you got there first, playfully taking his finger in your mouth and gently sucking and biting at his fingertip.

He felt a fire ignite in his stomach and his trousers tighten. How were you - so small and sweet and innocent, able to control his body like you were a master puppeteer and he was nothing but wood and string? It was baffling to him, an enigma that he craved to solve but knew that he never could. He was completely and incurably love sick.

You were going to be the death of him.

He pulled you even closer, freeing himself from your grip and taking your head in his hands, smashing his lips onto yours. You melted into him, practically putty in his hands. His teeth clashed against yours, the kiss was messy and desperate, as though you were two kids determined to make the most of the time you had alone. He felt everything wash off of him, all of his stress and tension melting down his spine like candle wax. Because, with your body flush against his and his mouth pressed up against your own, he was home.

You pulled away shyly and reluctancy, and he felt the absence of your warmth immediately. He moved to drag you back, not done with you just yet, but he followed your gaze to the man on the floor. Johnny had somehow managed to roll over onto his back, still asleep and snoring, but with his eyes half open, his gaze focused on the two of you. Tommy let out a rare, genuine laugh, and it made you feel like somebody had lit a firework in your chest. He wrapped his fingers against your own and tugged softly, his voice deep and rumbling like the ocean.

“Let’s go upstairs, princess. I’ve got something to give to you.”

Your room was safe and it was warm. It smelt like ripe peaches and fresh mint and rolling tobacco, like leather and lace; innocence and sin. It had finally become yours again, interlocked like your fingers, intertwined like your hearts, something so precious and belonging to just the two of you. It had broken his already shattered heart when you were separated, and looking at you now through heavy eyelids as you sat on your knees in bed, waiting expectantly for him to reveal his present, he took a moment to thank whoever was listening for giving him a goddamn angel.

“You need to stop buying me things, Tommy.” You scolded gently, shifting on your legs.

“I’ll do whatever I bloody feel like.” He replied, undoing his cuff links and loosing his tie. He liked to always be properly dressed and sharp, but around you he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in your sweet comfort.

You watched him, so beautiful and angelic looking under the yellow lights. You smiled to yourself at his mussed hair and natural pink pout; the side to him that only ever flared up around you. You kept your eyes trained on him as he rummaged around the room, taking off his jacket and folding it over a chair before turning around and pointing a finger at you.

“Close your eyes.”

You huffed. “Is that really necessary?”

“Close ‘em.”

You looked up at him teasingly, exhaling loudly before closing your eyes. You felt him moving around the room, listening to the soft creaks of the wood and the sound of his footsteps as he approached the bed. He lifted your arm and you giggled as his fingertips ran down your skin, stopping at the middle of your wrist, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. You opened your mouth to speak but before you could he pushed something onto your ring finger. Even with your eyes closed you could feel his smile.

“Open.”

It took you a moment to register what you were seeing, the surprise knocking the air right out of your lungs. Your eyes flickered from him back down to your ring, your mouth agape. You hadn’t really thought about an engagement ring, flashy diamonds weren’t really up your alley and with everything that had happened tradition seemed to have flown out of the window, but you should have known Tommy would always be one step ahead. It was beautiful. So brilliant and classic and totally you, and you could feel tears pricking behind your eyes, your mouth going dry.

“Oh, Tom! Oh, Tommy it’s beautiful!” All of your restraint was gone, and you leapt onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he caught you effortlessly, like he always would. He let out a laugh, slightly stunned from your reaction, and the feeling of your lips pressing hot, quick kisses all across his skin. He held you tight, burying his nose in your hair and pulling you impossibly closer.

He felt your lips at the base of his ear, brushing against his flesh as you spoke. “This must have cost a fortune!”

He shook his head, not even needing words to convey his feelings. To him it was obvious. Nothing would ever be too much for you.

You admired it from over his shoulder, watching the hypnotising way that it glimmered in the light. He gently walked forward, leaning you down so that you were in contact with the bed, tilting up your face so that you were looking him in the eye.

“There’s something else.”

“Tommy - ”

He had already started unbuttoning his shirt, and you sat back and watched as his nimble fingers looped down his torso, finally grabbing something underneath and holding it towards you.

You inhaled sharply, feeling yourself floating.

He had your name engraved on a silver dog tag, much like the ones he had thrown into the cut with Freddie along with his medals of honour. This was what mattered to him, your name carved into the metal, dangling right next to his heart, because it was only you who owned it.

Your eyes met, filled with love and lust and true happiness. A week ago you had been lying in bed, terrified that Tommy might not be in love with you, but now it was clear that the two of you were bound together, that you were the safety of a lighthouse to his wandering ship.

He kissed you - greedily and open mouthed, and you fell into him, letting him devour you. His hands worked quickly, desperate to see all of you, everything laid bare for him, with nothing but the ring glinting under the pale light of the moon. He kissed your neck, collarbone, throat, his hands and calloused fingertips brushing your flesh.

“I love you, (Y/N).” He said and you melted. You never felt short of love around him, but hearing those three words was like a hit of heroin, and you were desperate for more. You knew that he was as well, that he craved your stability and the sweetness you gave him, and you pulled his head from the crook of your neck, getting lost in those ocean eyes.

“Oh, Tommy. I love you.”

—————————————————————

The weeks passed, and the ring on your finger still gave you goosebumps when you saw it - a reminder of the man you loved. Life continued, business slowly dripping back into your days, the hazy bubble of love you had entered starting to pop but never fully dissolving. Tommy was adamant that you shouldn’t start back at work, making it very clear to you that he didn’t want you doing anything until he was beyond certain that you were completely healed.

You hated being stuck in the house however, and still managed to find a way to get a very reluctant Michael to sneak in some accounting work for you to do. Something that made Tommy see red when he found out, only to have you pout and preen and make all of his anger subside, although Michael wasn’t as lucky.

Wedding planning hadn’t been on your mind, not with business booming or the wonderful trip to New York. You were happy with everything, dizzied with love and lust and laughter, and whilst your finger had gotten much heavier, there was nothing in your relationship you wanted to change.

That didn’t stop Polly or Ada however from trying to plan the best party England had ever seen.

You remembered a sleepy Sunday morning with the two of them, and the shrill sound they both made when you said that you didn’t want a big wedding.

“What? Finally something bloody good happens to this family and you don’t want us to celebrate?”

You rolled your eyes, dunking your biscuit into your coffee with a smile. “I’m not saying we can’t celebrate, I’m just saying that I haven’t really thought about it, I just want something small.”

“Small? Every woman has dreamt of her wedding day!”

You looked over at Ada, wanting her to back you up against such traditionalist views. Instead, she held up her hands and laughed, shrugging her shoulders. “I hate to admit it, (Y/N) but I agree with Pol! It’s about time this family had something good happen, and you and Tom deserve a bloody wonderful day. I’ve never seen a love story quite like yours.”

You smiled at her kindness but didn’t let up, stirring your tea with your matching spoon.“I don’t want a fuss! I don’t need a big wedding to be happy, I just need him.”

“Well that’s sweet.” Polly interjected. “But I want to buy some new furs and get drunk and wake up next to a man who likes to buy me diamonds.”

You laughed out loud.

“Since when do you need a man to buy you diamonds?” Ada snorted, staring down her aunt over her strawberry filled pastry.

“I don’t. But they always look better when they’ve been bought by someone else.”

You sighed, watching the two of them playfully bicker, feeling so grateful that the stars had aligned and they were now your family.

“So you don’t have any plans? Not even a date or a dress in mind?” Polly asked, her brisk voice cutting through the banter.

“No.” You smiled. “The only thing I’m sure about is the groom.”

Polly rolled her eyes. “Well that’s going to need to change.”

——————————————————————

Slowly but surely you started to fall back into old habits and patterns, picking up where you left off at the Garrison, and meeting Michael and Isaiah for drinks in the city. Tommy was reluctant to loosen his grip at first, so used to having you all over him in the comfort of your own home, safe and warm under the protection of his watchful gaze and gentle hands. He knew that he didn’t own you, and that he couldn’t keep you under lock and key like a prisoner, but he spent those first few weeks anxiously pacing in his study, dreading the phone ringing and finding that you had once again been hurt because of him.

He kept his work as separate from you as he could. He knew you wanted to be by his side through everything, but the wound was too fresh for him, too raw, and he needed to know that you were safe. So he kept his sins and misdemeanours away from you, making his home his sanctuary and you his oasis, finding religion in your lips and solace in your touch.

You were in no hurry to arrange anything. As much as you loved the idea of Tommy being your husband, you were happy to just let things slowly fall into place and try to regain whatever normalcy you had lost - but your future in laws had different plans.

Polly was a whirlwind. She spent the majority of her free time writing letters and phoning different market vendors from all over the world, her office filled with sugar icing and the finest loose leaf tea that money could buy, all gifts from those wanting to cater what was set to be the ���wedding of the century.”

You didn’t mind - even when she stole you away for an entire work day to pick out cutlery and matching table runners, or you came back from the department store with pin pricks up and down your body from hours of having dresses fitted. She was happy, and when darkness seemed to follow the family like a storm cloud, you were adamant at grasping at whatever you could get, even if it wasn’t quite what you envisioned.

You knew Tommy found the whole thing hilarious. How his stoic and level headed Aunt had been swept up in lavender and lace, snapping at bakers over mango whipped frosting and arguing about the best way to cook lamb. It made him so damn happy though, when you came home after a long day - eyes tired but sparkling, face flushed and glowing, the way that he always wanted you to be. The distraction was what you needed, something sugar coated and dreamy to blur everything that had happened, and he knew that you were in great hands with Polly.

He couldn’t even deny that he was looking forward to the day. He knew more than anything that he wanted you to be his wife, and whilst he loved shiny, expensive things, all he truly needed was you by his side. He didn’t want a fuss, he wanted whatever you did, but imagining you all wide eyed and honey lipped at the alter, rings forever symbolising your connection, the sound of your first name with his last.

Well, that he liked.

Even though you were feeling a little out of your depth amongst all of the wedding planning, there were some things that you knew that you wanted. Like, the powder pink roses from the bushes Tommy had gifted you for your birthday to line the stairway, and ocean blue forget me nots in the bouquet - to match his eyes. You even had a hazy vision of what you wanted your dress to be, the hours spent walking through boutiques in London with Ada paying off as you debated A line, trumpet, and ball gown style dresses.

The main thing you were certain about, however, was who you wanted by your side throughout the whole thing. You had a feeling he knew something like this was coming, he always did have a way of knowing what you were thinking, but even Michael wasn’t expecting you to leap out of his wardrobe hand in hand with Finn, holding out a small cupcake with a candle on the top one rainy evening.

“Holy shit!” He squealed, watching as you and his cousin broke down in fits of laughter, clutching each other as you toppled onto the floor, jackets and shirts trailing behind you.“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Surprise!” You managed to say in between deep throaty giggles. “We wanted to catch you off guard!”

“Well you fucking did.” He tutted, “Hiding in my wardrobe! Nearly fucking shat myself.”

Your laughter was infectious, and soon all three of you were close to tears, your bodies exhausted and elated, gripping onto one another to stop from completely collapsing.

“So what was the point of this ambush, then?” He asked finally, his hands on his knees as he gasped for air, his face slowly returning to its normal colour.

You thrust the cupcake under his nose, the tip of the flame narrowly missing singeing the little hairs on his upper lip. “I want you to be my maid of honour! Well, man of honour.” You corrected quickly.

“You want me to be your what?”

Quick to silence his objections, you added - “Finn’s going to be flower girl!”

“Flower boy.” He interjected, “Katie’s flower girl. I’m just doing you a favour.”

“Yeah. Right.”

You and Michael locked eyes for a moment, challenging the other with your gaze. After a tense minute of silence, he broke out in a smile, one of the classic, cheesy ones that you loved so much.

“Do I have to wear a dress?”

You grinned. “Only if you want to.”

He threw his arms in the air in mock defeat, and he seemed so much younger, reminding you of running barefoot with him through raspberry fields, and throwing pennies down a pretty little well.

“Alright. Okay. Yes! Bloody hell.”

You leapt into his arms and Finn whooped triumphantly, partly pleased for you but mostly happy that he wasn’t the only member of the family who had somehow been talked into something he was bound to be teased over.

You felt Michael press a kiss to the crown of your head, his words getting muffled by your loose hair. “God, does Tommy even know what he’s got himself in for with you?”

You smiled, as sweet as spun sugar.

“Nope.”

—————————————————————-

As much as you wanted to stay in the rose tinted bubble that wedding planning had created, more and more problems with the business started to arise, and everything had to be put on the back burner - but it never dampened your spirits.

The hot summer days bled into crisp autumn nights, and you were trading your short lavender dresses for fur lined coats and boots. You celebrated Christmas with everyone, and discovered that a day you never used to enjoy was now your favourite, all because of the man you would up beside.

New Years passed in a flurry of drunken kisses and gold dresses and dancing until the sun rose. You vaguely remember finding Arthur passed out in the bathtub, surrounded by ice and champagne, the gramophone shaking the paintings on the walls. Your main memory was Tommy pulling you down the hall with him, away from the rest of the family, kissing you right as the clock struck midnight with hands tangled in your hair and a smile on his lips.

He often left for weeks at a time, work taking him up and down the country, and that meant that every morning and night you spent together was treasured.

One particular spring morning, when the air was starting to warm up and the days getting a little longer, you were sprawled on Tommy’s lap in the garden, reading from your novel whilst he read the paper. The day was less than half way though and you had already spent the entire morning in bed, making up for all the time you had lost. Now you leafed through your book with strawberry stained fingers, the curl of cigarette smoke twisting around you both.

Tommy had made it certain that he was not to be bothered that day. It had been almost an entire month of nothing but speaking over the phone and stolen kisses before he had to up and leave again, and the only thing he goddamn wanted was to do absolutely nothing with you. He was exhausted, not that he would ever admit it, but because you knew him better than absolutely everyone, you forced him to take a break before the man you loved completely crumbled like a bourbon biscuit.

So when you knew that he was coming back, you gave Mary strict orders to ignore all phone calls or mail regarding the business until the weekend was over. She had happily obliged, so you and Tom were both confused when you saw her running through the grass in her wingtips, her hands still soapy and wet from doing the dishes.

“Oh Mr Shelby! And Mrs Shelby!” She called, her voice so shrill that a few birds even took flight. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

Tommy sat up as best he could with you on his lap, his arms snaking around your waist to stop you from toppling over. You could feel the cigarette moving with his lips as he spoke, his accent deep and throaty in your ear.

“Mary? What is it?”

She didn’t reply, instead thrusting a sage green and gold piece of paper at you. You caught it before it fell to the floor, and let out a loud, genuine laugh when you read the script. You felt Tommy leaning over you shoulder, and felt the rumble of his body as he laughed with you.

“Well,” He said finally, pressing his lips to your neck. “Guess we know what we’re doing next month, Princess.”

On July 20th

Please join us for the union of Mr Thomas Shelby and (Y/N, Y/L/N).

The wedding of the century!

————————————————————————————

Polly had organised everything. Whilst you had been dealing with the accounting from the Garrison and Tommy had been building his business, Polly had managed to do her job, and single handily plan a wedding.

Everything was full steam ahead. The house was a flurry of florists and caterers, the grounds were picked and preened and polished by gardeners that had sailed over from Italy and the south of France. It was wonderful, if not a little overwhelming, but it was worth everything to see your future Aunt beaming as she supervised everything.

Tommy had pulled you aside a few times, determined to make sure that this was what you wanted, ready to pull the plug if he even caught a whiff that all of the glitz and glamour were out of your comfort zone. But Polly knew you well - not that you ever doubted her - and everything was beautiful and muted, classic and beguiling, just like something out of a fairytale.

You tried to be as involved as you could, picking out flowers for the bouquets, letting Esme try out a million different hairstyles on you as you sat barefoot and cross legged on the floor like a child, running around the kitchen with Katie, taste testing all of the frosting you could find. More than anything though, you were excited, elated for the day and it had nothing to do with all of the smoke and mirrors, instead it was the man you would meet at the end of the aisle.

You could tell that Tommy was getting antsy for the day as well. He was softer, calmer, his touch on your skin gentle but possessive, calling you “Mrs Shelby” as you came apart under him. He found himself falling asleep a little easier, his breath not getting caught in his lungs, his mind wandering and imagining his favourite girl in a pretty white dress, waiting for him under an arch of blush coloured tulips.

The real surprise though, came the morning before your wedding. You were curled up on the sofa drinking strong coffee and eating honey toast as Tommy finished some paperwork. He was trying to get everything done before the end of the day, wanting tomorrow and the weeks that came after to be nothing but the two of you.

You told him you never felt neglected. You had been by his side through it all, you knew just how demanding his job was, but that still didn’t ease the niggle of pressure at the back of his neck when he had his nose in his books for too long. He truly couldn’t wait until he could shove everything and everyone else aside. All he wanted was his girl in his arms with his ring on her finger, and a bottle of sweet gin.

Everything seemed so within reach, until the front door banged open like a whirlwind, and you heard the sounds of Polly’s stilettos against the hardwood floor.

“Alright you two, no time to lose!”

You and Tommy lifted your heads quickly, your eyes meeting across the room. “Polly?”

“- and Arthur!” An voice added, accompanied by the familiar face of the eldest Shelby.

You smiled, shutting the cover of your book. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Tommy shot you a sharp look that said, don’t encourage them, but you ignored him, getting to your feet to greet them both.

Polly kissed you quickly on both cheeks, leaving you covered in a light layer of sticky red lipstick as she surveyed you both.

The study was the only place the two of you could find solace amongst the craziness of the wedding planning, every other room in the house filled with servants and buckets of flowers, the floors freshly waxed and polished. You could practically feel Tommy rolling his eyes behind you as Mary pushed open the double doors, holding your pastel pink overnight bag.

“Mrs Grey, I’ve packed all of Mrs Shelby’s things like you asked.”

“You did what?” Tommy said, rising to his feet.

Polly brushed him aside, reaching for the bag in the maid’s hand.“Ah. Thank you Mary, but it’s not Mrs Shelby yet, not till tomorrow. Let her be Miss (Y/L/N) for one last night.”

“Polly?” You asked, “What are you up to?”

She winked at you, her eyes catlike and beautiful, filled with the mischief that always hung around her. “You’re coming with me, love.”

“And you Tom, are coming with me.” Arthur said, pointing a finger at his brother.

“No. Fuck off, both of you.”

Polly put her hands in the air, but you could tell she had been expecting his resistance. “No Thomas. She needs a night as a free woman! Lord knows after tomorrow you’ll be keeping her all to yourself.”

Tommy straightened his back and crossed his arms, never one to back down from a fight, especially with his Aunt. “She’s staying here.”

“It’s tradition!” Arthur interjected, his voice already slurred despite it not even being noon yet.

“Fuck tradition.”

You moved forward, blinking up at your future husband. You knew why he was being so stubborn, the day before your wedding would be the prime time for something to go wrong, or something to happen with you, and keeping you within reach was what he wanted. As much as you loved spending every second with him, you also loved his family, and knew that perhaps a night of drinking and laughing and exhaling, was what you both needed.

He looked at you, his eyes unmoving and stern. You didn’t falter though, mimicking his frown and knitting your eyebrows together, trying to knock down the walls he was so insistent on putting up.

“It might be nice, Tom.” You said. “You deserve to have some fun, and it’ll make seeing each other tomorrow all the more special.”

A moment passed and you felt him falter, the corner of his lips moving ever so slightly.

“Alright. Bloody hell, fine.”

“Good decision brother.” Arthur said,

“We’re not leaving town.” Tommy stated simply, laying down the law.

“We wouldn’t dream of it! Johnny brought his caravan down, all of you men are camping in the woods. Us girls are staying here.”

“Aberama Gold doesn’t happen to be one of these men does he?” You said playfully, nudging Polly with your arm. She rolled her eyes but pulled you closer, her fingers toying with the satin ribbons on your blouse.

“Cmon, love, lets go.”

“Wait.”

You felt Tommy approaching you both, his large hands cupping around your face. You melted into him, his touch so soft and so warm. His eyes were so very blue, cobalt and icy, but they made your stomach infinite. He pulled you into him, smashing his lips against yours, not caring who was watching as he dug his fingers into the roots of your hair, dragging you against his body. Breathless, he pulled away, smiling at the frown on your face from the lack of contact.

“Be safe. Alright? I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Alright you two.” Polly said exasperatedly, but you could hear the happiness in her tone. “Let’s go.”

You let her lead you away, smiling at Arthur as he bounded towards his brother, filling him in on the multitude of activities he had planned for the night.

Every single one of them involved drinking.

As you left, Tommy shot Polly a look, one that told her to keep you near and to keep you safe, and she nodded in response. As soon as you made it into the hall she laughed genuinely, squeezing your shoulder.

“You will definitely fit in with this family, (Y/N).”

“Hm?”

“Yes. You have the Shelby woman’s gift.” She leant down, her lips to your ear. “The power to control a strong man like a puppet.”

———————————————————————

So there you were. Wrapped up in satin and lace, a glass filled with blood red wine, your friends happy and tipsy, swapping stories under the moonlight.

Bea and Violet, two of your closest friends from back in the little village had arrived to be your bridesmaids, their eyes wide and glimmering when they had seen the life you now lived. You watched as they sat with Polly, telling her tales of when you and Michael had been young and stupid - not that much had changed.

Polly had invited all of the girls from work and your friends from in the city, and the laughter bounced off the walls and engulfed you. Ada was enchanting, completely beaming as she sat next to you, telling you every embarrassing thing about her brother she could remember as she downed shots of vodka and cinnamon whisky.

Michael was lounging on the floor with one of Polly’s fine fox scarves draped around his neck. Charlotte was curled up in his side with a cigarette, her hand intertwined with his as she watched him with dopey, loved up eyes. You caught his eye and smiled at him, and he winked in response, joining in with the girls’ as though he was one himself.

You had told him to enjoy the night with the boys, but he refused. You partly suspected that it had something to do with Tommy, and that your fiancé had wanted you to have more protection, but you also knew that Michael wanted to spend tonight with you. Things hadn’t changed per say, but there was no denying that the both of you were getting older, and soon you would be a member of his bloodline rather than just his best friend.

You still had all of your wonderful memories, like running through sunflower fields and swimming in the river until the sun set, but they seemed further away now, almost out of reach. Part of you still clung to the past, the innocence of your youth, all peach skies and daisy chains, but there was no denying that your vision was cloudy, blurry, only focused on the future, and the only man that you wanted to be in it.

Somebody flipped the record over. You listened to the thump and rhythm of the music, smiling at those you loved as they danced around you. You adored everyone in the room, even Lizzie who had arrived already drunk and had glared daggers at you every time you turned around. These were your new family, your new life, and whilst you were elated and excited for it all, you also really needed some fucking air.

Almost on cue, Violet toppled over a champagne flute as she kicked her legs like a cabaret dancer, and you sighed playfully as she covered her mouth with her hands like a small child, her eyes as wide as the moon.

“Oh! Oh! I’m so sorry!”

“Violet, it’s alright! I’ll go and get some cloth, you ladies stay here, try not to break anything else, eh?” You said rising to your feet and darting out of the door, the sound of laughter following you like twinkling diamonds. As soon as you could you ran down the stairs, your feet pattering against the carpet, sneaking out of the back door and into the jet black night.

————————————————————-

The moon was round and full, and you sat cross legged on the grass, your bare feet dipped into the lake that wrapped around the property. It was your favourite place to clear your head, under the weeping willow, listening to the sound of the animals around you, the night air brisk yet comfortable. It was hard to believe that in a few hours you would be married, bound to this brilliant man that had swept you up like a rough wave, capturing you completely.

“Not having second thoughts are we?”

You smiled in the dark. His voice cutting through the night like a knife through butter.

“Tommy.” You breathed, turning around and facing him, the spark of his cigarette as bright as the stars above you both. He grinned at the sight of you, his shirt unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves rolled up, looking like a vision under the moonlight. “What are you doing here?

“I should be asking you the same question.”

“I just needed some air.” You said, curling your toes and inhaling the cool air, you felt his eyes all over you, and you wanted to get as close to him as possible, replace his gaze with his fingertips. You were inches apart and yet you still missed him, and you knew that you would feel this way forever.

“Ah. I take it the ladies are just as boisterous as the men. I only managed to get away after Arthur fell into the bonfire.”

“Bloody hell! Is he alright?”

“Burnt moustache and bruised ego. Nothing he can’t handle.”

You were about to laugh but you stopped suddenly, remembering something important.

“Wait! It’s after midnight!”

“Are you about to turn into a pumpkin?” Tommy asked, amused by your change in tone.

“No! We’re getting married today! You can’t see me!”

“(Y/N).”

“Turn around!” You squealed, pushing him away from you and spinning on your heel.

You heard an exasperated laugh.

“I think we’ve had our fill of bad luck, little one. Turn around, I want to see your face.”

He took you in. No makeup and loose hair and still squeezing all of the air from his lungs.

“We don’t have to do it like this, you know.”

“If this isn’t what you want - all the fucking champagne and caviar. We could leave tonight, get married in a fucking courthouse - just us. Or we could do it in Johnny’s field, get him to marry us right next to his caravan. I don’t care where it is or what we do, I just want - I just need to be with you.”

His words made your gut twist, the sincerity in his voice meaning everything to you, knowing that he would move mountains if it would make you happy, and that you would do the same for him. “I think Polly would murder us.”

“She doesn’t scare me.”

“She should.”

“No. I want this. Yes it’s all a bit... much.” you struggled to find the right word, feeling overwhelmed but ultimately completely spoiled by all of the fuss. “But I think it will be lovely. Your family deserve this. You deserve this.”

Looking at you all sleepy eyed, dressed in silk and satin and lace, your necklace hanging in the sweet dip of your throat, the ring on your finger glinting under the summer twilight, he really wasn’t sure he did.

He pulled you into him, not wanting to be apart from you for any longer. You smelt of home, like violets and green apples and vanilla cupcakes, and he felt like heaven, with his strong body and warm hands and comforting arms. Safe in his presence, you mumbled the words that had been the reason for many of your sleepless nights.

“Do you think she’ll come?”

She being your mother. The woman who had nursed you and bathed you and kissed the scrapes and bruises on your knees when you were a child had all but refused to attend your wedding. You understood why. Your trip to visit Michael in Birmingham was only supposed to be a few days, a week at most, and here you were two years later engaged to a man on the other side of England. You had tried to come home a few times, but the visits were cold and severed, Michaels foster parents filling your mother with poison about the family you had entered.

The phone calls stopped. No more weekly letters from your mother or care packages wrapped in string. You still wrote, but you never got a reply, only a small impersonal card at Christmas and your birthday. Michael understood, and always knew how to comfort you. He had also left the only family he had known and entered the strange underground where you both now lived. He was a boy from the sleepy village who had grown into a man.

It was harder for you, being a woman meant that you were held with certain standards and expectations. But, luckily you had Polly and Ada who taught you that you could be more than just a housewife.

It affected Tommy the most though. If anything was bothering you he knew how to deal without immediately, crushing whatever had made you sad with the heel of his boot, using his power to make everything alright again. He couldn’t do anything about your mother though, couldn’t twist her view of him, not when it was so accurate.

He was bad for you and you were too good for him.

It hurt him though, when late at night you would get that sad, wistful look in your eyes. Or when you would wait for the postman every Monday, the disappointment bleeding from you every time nothing came. He wanted to fix everything, but he didn’t know how. He left the bulk of the comforting words to Ada and Michael, and did his best to show you how much he cared in his own way, with gentle touches and shared looks and those three words that always made him feel better.

Your wedding though, was a different matter. There was no way in hell that you would be anything less than happy if he had something to do with it. His heart broke a little the day that the RSVP came back in the post, a simple “unable to attend.” scrawled at the bottom, as though it was a routine doctors appointment and not her daughters wedding day. Tommy knee he had to fix it when he heard the muffled sound of sobs coming from your bathroom, his heart ripping in two just thinking about the tears staining your beautiful face.

He had a meeting in London but he pushed it back, determined to right the wrongs that lingered around you both. His black matte Bugatti looked incredibly out of place as it trailed down the quiet village lanes, the purr of the engine much louder than the bird songs and running water in the background. It wasn’t hard to picture you in the chocolate box cottage that he parked in front of, smiling ever so faintly at the thought of you running through the grass when you were a child, hanging up laundry in the summer, drinking hot chocolate in the winter.

She opened the door after the first knock, her eyes the size of dinner plates and her mouth agape. Usually, Tommy would be firm and curt and rude, demanding exactly what he wanted and when he expected it to be done, but he knew that he had to be somewhat kind to your mother, even if he currently resented her because of the state you were in.

“I won’t stay long, Mrs (Y/L/N.)” He said, not bothering to step over the threshold, knowing that she’d probably scream if he did. “You might not like it but I’m in love with your daughter. I intend to marry her, and as my wife, I want to make her happy.”

Your mother didn’t interject, merely nodded, and Tommy took that as a sign to continue.

“I know what you think of me and you’re not wrong, but don’t punish your daughter over it. (Y/N) is safe and she is happy, and as her mother that should make you pleased shouldn’t it? Not behaving like a child and treating as if she is a stranger. I want my wife to be happy, so put aside your fucking prejudices and buy a nice hat, alright? For her sake.”

The tension was thick and hot and practically dripping over them, but their eyes met briefly, and something flickered between them.

“I hope to see you at the wedding.” He bit, his tone as sharp as his canines, turning on his heel and heading for the car.

He hummed quietly, listening the sounds of the night. The flicker of the bonfire in the fields behind, the sound of drunken singing and chanting that was louder than a siren.

“I think she will.”

You thought about saying something but held it in, not wanting to ruin the tender moment of him holding you against his chest, the heat of summer nothing compared to the two of you.

He moved you slowly, placing his hands either side of your face, his eyes veiled and moonless.“Go and get some sleep.” He said. “Because you won’t be getting any tonight.”

His voice was low and wolffish, and you felt your entire body setting alight at his words and the darkness in his eyes. His hold on you was so tight it was almost painful, but there was nowhere else that you would rather be. You smiled prettily, already feeling the butterflies coiling in your stomach, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him, sweet as strawberry ice cream and fresh honey, the taste lingering on his tongue. You left silently, leaving him grinning dopily, drunk on you and the heat of the evening.

He watched you as you walked away. His eyes never leaving as you stalked back to the house, his gaze lingering long after your shadow grew small, and the front door opened and closed behind you.

————————————————————————

Polly let you sleep in until 8.

You had crashed out after seeing Tommy, Polly had scolded you for leaving and then insisted that you got some beauty sleep, and you practically collapsed into the powder pink pillows on the guest bed.Sleep had come easily, and you grumbled a little when your new in laws had barged in the next morning, pulling back the curtains and letting in the heavy sunlight.

You were ushered into the master bathroom. The claw foot tub had already filled to the brim, rose petals shimmering on the surface, epsom salts dissolving around you. It was warm and inviting, steam billowing around your face as you undressed, and a cup of cinnamon coffee waiting for you on the cabinet by the side, next to an almond croissant from your favourite bakery in London.

You were slightly confused as to how she acquired it, but you knew by now to never question Polly and her methods.

Mary came in not long after, the maid you now thought of as a close friend unable to keep the smile off her face as she helped wash your hair, dragging a soft toothed golden comb over your locks and massaging lavender oil into your scalp. You scrubbed your skin until it shone, washed your body and dragged a razor across any unwanted hair, soothing your skin with thick coconut cream and honey salve.

You could hear everyone on the floors below, the sound of clattering china and rivalling voices coming up through the floorboards. You thought it might make you nervous, but it didn’t, if anything it made you feel more certain. The butterflies in your stomach were a swarm now, and all you could think of was him.

The girls were spread out in the largest guest room. The big windows had been opened, the lace curtains billowing in the warm breeze, and you could see start of the canopy being set up along the great expansive garden, one of yours and Tommy’s favourite places.

Ada squealed when she saw you, even with just a towel around your body and hair, she showered you in compliments.

“You’re glowing!”

“That’s because I’ve scrubbed off ten layers of skin.” You teased, letting her hug you tightly.

The rest of the girls clambered towards you, cigarettes in their fingers and champagne on their tongues. They were a blur of sweet lilac and warm honeysuckle, the colours of their soft chiffon dresses sparkling under the low lights, and you could feel your heart burst at the sight.

“Oh, Pol.” You said quietly, “Everyone looks so beautiful.”

She came towards you, a vision in her golden draped dress. It was covered in glimmering beads and diamonds, and she looked like a starlet on the big screen. She took you in her arms and laughed, “All you need is Auntie Polly to wave her magic wand.” She shook you slightly, running her fingers along the damp skin of your arm. “Come on, you. I think there’s a very impatient man waiting for you.”

Your nails were filed and painted pink, your hair mused and styled by Mary, leaving it long and wavy down your back, the way that both you and Tommy liked it best. You laughed out loud when Bea and Violet showed you their wedding present, a beautiful swan white lingerie set from the dressmakers in the village, complete with high stockings and a frilly lace garter.

“Maybe keep a doctor nearby when he sees you in that tonight.” Bea giggled as you fingered the delicate stitching and fabric.

Not everything was perfect though. One of the caterers dropped a plate of crab cakes and goats cheese bruschetta onto the floor, and one of the mares that was going to lead the carriage to the church had bolted at the unfamiliar hands and raced around the paddock away from the grooms that tried to catch her. Polly had huffed loudly and left with the girls and promises that she would be back with someone’s head, you had nodded, oblivious to everyones anxiety, too dazed at the thought of the day ahead to worry about the little things.

So they left you alone in the big bedroom, staring at your reflection in the golden mirror. It had been a four woman job to get you into the dress. Ada holding you steady by the armpits as Mary and Polly and a unsuspecting servant from downstairs was roped into helping you slide under the fabric, the tulle and lace as heavy as an anvil on you all. Polly had the dress shipped over from Paris after months of searching for the perfect dress, finally ordering one completely hand made and one of a kind, just like you, she had said.

You had never seen Polly cry.

Once, almost, when she had too much brandy at Christmas and she spoke of how much she wished Anna could have been there, the lump in her throat unmistakable as she told you how much she missed her daughter. And now in her nephews bedroom, her smile so wide and her eyes glistening, as she took your face in her hands.

“Thank you for making my boys so happy.”

You could hear her downstairs. The click of her stilettos and the sound of her voice, and once again you were infinitely grateful for whatever cosmic force had brought this wild, brilliant and chaotic family into your life. You turned back to the mirror, running your fingers over the delicate beading on the corset of your dress.

It was without a doubt the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. It was the colour of a fresh blanket of snow, so angelic and pure. There were thin straps at the shoulders, decorated with tiny crystals and jewels. The bodice was cinched and slightly scooped at the neckline, the puckering of your scar showing just above the pristine chiffon.

It had never been something you wanted to hide. It showed that you were alive.

The skirt was wide and full. Layers of expertly fitted tulle and crinoline holding it together, gilding and cascading like a waterfall down your legs and to the floor. There were pearls and thread and diamonds in the shape of flowers stitched right into the fabric, glimmering and twinkling like the stars in the sky when you shifted in the light.

“I’ve left the car running.”

You turned at the noise, smiling when you spotted Michael in the doorway, looking like a million dollars in his rich navy suit and tie.

“Just in case.” He continued.

You rolled your eyes, laughing sarcastically. “Ha. Ha.”

He stepped further into the room, his eyes soft and kind and as wide as dinner plates. The emotion on his face making your heart constrict, his face suddenly so much younger. “Wow.” He breathed. “You look beautiful.”

You blushed, your eyes darting to the floor as he approached you.

“Really, (Y/N). You look... wow.”

“Thanks Mikey.” You said softly, the two of you comfortable in the silence. In that moment nothing else really mattered, you were two kids again, running through waist high grass, sledding down the hills in the winter, splashing each other in the river. So much had changed and yet it would always be the two of you.

He broke the silence first, not one to linger in the past for too long. “This is for you.”

“Oh. Michael. You shouldn’t have! You’ve already done so much.”

“I wanted to.”

He rummaged around in his pockets, finally pulling out a large scarlet velvet box, slowly lifting off the lid. Inside was an exquisite sparkling marquise diamond necklace, intertwined with yellow and rose gold, oval shaped crystals draping and falling from the band like raindrops. Beside it, were two matching earrings, brilliantly cut, so clear that you could see your reflection, the gems woven together like ivy on a cottage. So stunning that you started to tear up.

You gasped, unable to swallow your shock. “Michael! This must have cost a fortune.”

“Nah. I stole it.” He teased, his voice a little shy.

You pulled him in to your arms. He kissed your head, pulling you tightly against him.

“I love you.” He said, his words muffled by your hair. “You deserve this. God, you deserve the world. I am so happy for you.”

You smiled into the fabric of his suit, muffling an “I love you” into the stitched seams. He squeezed you playfully, making you squeal as he hoisted you into the air.

“Careful. If you smudge my makeup there’s a good chance that Polly will shoot you.” You giggled.

“I can handle her.”

“Can you?”

His gaze faltered and you laughed, hitting his shoulder. He spun you around, lifting the necklace from its box and settling it onto your throat, his skilled hands fastening the clasp. You gasped at your reflection, your eyes meeting his in the mirror.

“It looks perfect.”

“I love it Michael.”

He pressed a kiss to your crown, watching as you delicately picked up the earrings and put them on.

“And tell Tommy that if he ever hurts you that I’ll kill him.”

A moment of silence, and then:

“- you’re not going to really tell him that are you?”

You both laughed as he outstretched an arm, looking you up and down proudly, his eyes already a little glossy and big. You thought of how much younger he looked.

“Cmon.” He said, “ I think they’re waiting for you.”

————————————————————

Thomas Shelby never felt apprehensive. He wasn’t familiar with the prickling anxiety that lingered at the bottom of his spine, or the dread that that had settled itself low in his gut, or the way that his palms were growing hotter by the second. He never got nervous. Until now.

Perhaps nervous wasn’t the right word. He had no doubt that you would be walking down the aisle in a few minutes, he knew that you would say “I do.” with as much certainty as him, and he knew that the golden band in Arthur’s jacket pocket would soon be on your finger. But still, the foreboding remained, hanging around his head like a dark cloud.

He didn’t deserve you. He knew that much for sure. He was the devil, his hands stained with blood, his lungs filled with ash, his insides dark and mean. You were an angel, soft and sweet and gentle and warm, the girl that could bring him to his knees.

The church abbey felt big, the summer sun filtering through the stained glass windows, the high ceilings making the room feel vast and empty, despite the crowded benches. He needed you to arrive, to settle the unease inside of him, to light up the room in the way that only you could, feeling every single empty space with your light.

He glanced around the room. Arthur was next to him, nursing a pretty tragic hangover and still a little ashy from his burn, but his smile was bright and he winked at his younger brother. There were plenty of blinders here, working rather than as guests, Tommy was insistent that he wanted as much protection over the day as possible, and even though it was your wedding day, he never would stop protecting you. He wouldn’t put it past his enemies to try something on what should be the happiest day of your lives.

He saw your friends from work. John and Esme and their litter of children. Lizzie and her new boyfriend, hanging off his arm and looking at Tommy with already drunk, hazy eyes. He even smiled as he saw Alfie perched in a middle row, his hat bigger than his head, his beard neatly combed and an array of golden rings on his fingers. Ollie was next to him, watching the room warily, always on guard.

Once Alfie had heard about the engagement he sent over fresh loaves and flowers and then invited himself to the wedding. But he needn’t have, as he had always been on the guest list.

Tommy’s eyes grazed over the person he had been looking for though. Your mother. Sitting in a pew near the front, draped in fine silk and a matching hat, looking entirely out of place but smiling tightly nonetheless. Their eyes met, a single flame of acknowledgement flickering between them. Unspoken but still lingering in the air, that they would both always put you first and that was all that mattered.

“You nervous, Tommy boy?” He heard Arthur say from behind him. He opened his mouth to answer but stopped as he heard noises from outside, the clunk of horse hooves and the rattle of the carriage. He felt his palms sweat and his heart race like he was back in battle, but this time the feeling was so sickly sweet and warm, he felt so fucking happy.

There was so much light when the doors opened. Polly was traditional, and even with all of the immorality in her life, she was adamant that you would both be married in a church. Neither of you protested, Tommy would have said “I do” in front of God himself if it meant you would be his wife. None of it mattered to him.

He remembered the day you came back from seeing the cathedral for the first time. How wide your smile was as you laid curled up in his chest, his lips leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck as you told him all about the ivy covered steeples and wildflowers and beautiful black jackdaws.

You were smitten, and so was he.

There wasn’t much they could do to decorate the church. Back at the house was where the main party was going to be held, but Polly was a genius, and every empty space was filled with tall flickering candles and bouquets of flowers. Everything felt clean and soft and pure, a mixture of old and rustic and fresh and new.

Light. So much light coming in from outside. The day already so sticky warm and wonderful, much like the summer the two of you met and fell in love. Katie came in first, giggling at the eruption of “aww’s” from the pews, everybody watching as she threw small white daisies and coral amber rose petals down the aisle.

Finn followed, looking like an adult in his suit and tie and freshly polished brogues. Then the bridesmaids, coy smiles on their faces, hair curled and polished and smiles that seemed to stretch all the way to the moon. Tommy could feel Arthur’s sly grin from behind him, and knew that he would have a job of distracting his older brother from the beautiful young ladies later on.

The fabric of their dresses swished and swayed under the light, the softness of the skirts and the sharp heel of their stilettos such a wonderful contrast. The ladies whose faces he vaguely recognised moved to your side of the alter, young and impressionable eyes looking around the grand room, obviously astonished and surprised that one of their own was going to be married in such a remarkable chapel.

Ada was next. Polly at her side. His sister and his Aunt commanding the entire room with just the sound of their shoes and the sway of their hips. They looked incredible, such a mixture of power and beauty. Polly’s smile was smug and self assured, but also filled with a certain kindness that was meant just for Tommy. Ada’s eyes were glistening, looking at her brother with adoration and pride, and that playful tease that he knew and loved.

The room was quiet for a moment. The anticipation roaring around like a wasp trapped under a glass, and Tommy could see Curly smiling happily, peering down the aisle as they waited for you to arrive.

For Tommy, his whole life had once been so loud, and then, as if by magic, everything stopped. All of the noise, the blur, the people. They all faded and disappeared. It was like having his head held underwater, the rush of the ocean and the pounding of his blood in his ears deafening him. He felt movement around him, everybody in the pews rising to their feet, the orchestra starting the bridal chorus. His friends and family were smiling so widely, enjoying the ambience and the atmosphere, holding their hands to their chest and wiping their eyes and muttering how beautiful everything was.

He didn’t see any of it. He only saw you.

You had always been the most beautiful woman to him, the kind of woman that made the air leave his lungs and his heart beat a little faster, but oh god, did you look magnificent. In your dress that wrapped and dipped and swayed around your legs like running water, the bodice that cinched you in tightly, exposing the dip of your throat and the curve of your collarbone, just begging him to leave a necklace of bruises next to the diamonds. Your eyes were wide, lined with kohl and blush on your cheeks that reminded him of sun soaked days and strawberry jam and wax stamped envelopes. The curve of your lips, raspberry red gloss that made him think of kissing you until neither of you knew where one of you began and the other ended, his hands in your hair, your legs around his waist.

He felt tears prick behind his eyes. Such a foreign feeling that he almost recoiled. He was so used to being strong and in charge, never letting his emotions bubble up on the surface where somebody might see. But seeing you walk down the aisle, filling the room with love and youth and kindness - knowing that you were going to be his wife, that your days would begin and end with each other, that you would fight and fuck and laugh and cry, tell each other everything, hold him when the shovels got too loud, clean him when he was dripping with another mans blood, be the one you called because no one else would ever compare.

He let his eyes grow glossy as you stepped forward, taking his hand in yours. You were so smooth and soft and small and he was so large and rough and hard, but you fit together like you had been moulded that way, as though there was no where else you two could ever be. So in a room filled with people who respected him and trusted him as a cruel, calculated leader, he let himself be washed away with you,

Because he was in love. And nothing else fucking mattered.

———————————————————————-

Champagne and crystal chandeliers. Cotton candy coloured roses across all of the banister, wide full petals looking like silk under the lights. Pearl necklaces snapped in half and black satin gloves ripped up the seams, pretty fine china filled with bourbon, and laughter that never seemed to cease.

Tommy had tried to keep the party civilised for as long as he could, but the Shelby clan were persistent, and with the amount of booze in the house, they saw it as a challenge to drink it all.

The wedding dinner had gone well. Only the nearest and dearest invited to a seat at the grand table, you and Tommy at the head, his hand possessively on your thigh, your shoulder pressed against his chest. There were more courses than you could count, great big plates and bowls of honey roast ham and glazed partridges and peach trifle and jam soufflé. Your glasses were never empty and yet everyone was well mannered and kind, their voices a little softer than usual, their jokes a little bit cleaner.

You suspected it had something to do with the woman sat next to you, safely nestled in between yourself and Michael, the two people she knew. Your mother had been quiet but mellow at the ceremony, even going as far as hugging you with tears in her eyes as you gathered outside for the photos. There had been tension of course, but it meant the world to you that she was willing to put on a smile for the day.

You had no doubt that Tommy had ordered everyone to be on their best behaviour around her and you could feel yourself chuckle lightly as Arthur gave a very uncharacteristically charming toast to the two of you. The rest of the dinner passed pleasantly, and you could even see your mother start to loosen up as Ada spoke to her about her favourite novels and the current political climate.

After the plates had been cleared away and the guests started arriving for the party, your mother pulled you aside before you got to the living room.

“This might not have been what I wanted for you, (Y/N). You’re my daughter. I only want the best for you.” She murmured, wringing her hands as though she was willing herself to continue. “And it pains me to say it but... Thomas clearly loves you, and I truly feel safe leaving you in his hands. He might not be a good man, but he is good for you.”

Those words were more precious than all of the diamonds and jewels you had stuffed in your dresser upstairs, that your mother accepted the man you loved.

“Oh, Mum.” You sighed, pulling her into you. She was so familiar and warm and you could feel tears prickling behind your eyes. She held onto you tightly, kissing the top of your head and wrapping her arms around you as though you were a baby again.

“I must go and catch my train. But - I’ll call you (Y/N).” She said, and you nodded wildly, your smile so big you thought your cheeks might split.

You walked her to one of the cars, instructing the driver to take her to the station, waving at her as the car got smaller and smaller in your eyes. You felt Tommy approach you, his hand snaking across your waist, and you let him pull you close. He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off, kissing him ferociously, letting your gratitude show in your touch. He accepted greedily, devouring you on the front steps of your home, his hands in your hair and your lips between his teeth, the sound of the party and music suddenly sounding so far away.

——————————————————-

With your mother gone, the party was in full swing. People were dancing barefoot because their shoes were stained with blood, sharing wide smiles between friends, the rooms smelling of skin and sweat and expensive perfume. You saw pupils blown up to the size of the moon, horse racing and gambling in the paddocks at the back, whoops and laughter vibrating around the house and shaking the paintings.

Tommy had kept you close, not that you ever wanted to stray. It was obvious that despite the genuine fun and admiration for him and all he had accomplished from those walking through his house with slack jaws, he only really wanted to be with you. It worked for the majority of the time, the two of you nestled on one of the ruby velvet chairs in the lounge, letting the crowds of people come and find you and offer their sincere congratulations.

But as always, being Thomas Shelby came with a price, and he often had to leave begrudgingly, with a tense jaw and closed fist, every time someone (Arthur) tore a painting or someone else, (Finn) crashed a car into the allotment and ripped up all of the courgettes.

He always left with a grumble and obvious annoyance swimming in his ocean eyes, planting a firm kiss to your lips and a promise to be back soon every time somebody called for him. He was never one for public displays of affection, he liked to make everyone know you were his but he preferred to keep his tenderness private. Maybe it was how drop dead gorgeous you looked in your gown, a looser, more intricate number you had donned for the evening party. Or maybe it was the rings you shared, the two solid gold circles looking like a sky full of stars under the lights, or maybe it was a mixture of the champagne soaked kisses and pure, uninhibited bliss he felt when he touched you - but whatever it was, you loved it, relishing the attention wholeheartedly.

You weren’t sure where he had got too this time, and somehow you had been wrangled into a conversation with a very tipsy Lord and Lady something or other, both of them fawning over you, their voices high like children. Your saving grace came in the form of a very tall, very stocky baker, his rings cool and comforting on your shoulder as he pulled you away.

“Yes. Yes. That’s very nice right, I’m just going to take (Y/N) away now, yes. Yes. Finish your drinks.” He waved them off as you laughed, “God, these rich fucks can talk for England. Fucking Liberty. Plus, I’ve seen them finish off all of the crab cakes. It’s not on.”

“No. Alfie, it’s not.” You said with a smile, letting him lead you into the parlour, the room almost empty and the faces that you recognised were pleasantly familiar. You grinned as you thought of how well Alfie knew the inside of the manor, something that you were sure to use as ammunition against Tommy any time he tried to tell you that “they weren’t friends.”

That was how he found you almost an hour later. Somehow the rest of the family had migrated into the room, bar Arthur who said he wasn’t drunk enough yet to be in the same room as Alfie. Tommy had been pulled and tugged in every direction, speaking to people he really didn’t give a shit about just to keep the party running smoothly, for your sake. He was on high alert, Johnny had said his boys had seen a figure running through the back paddocks, and just that alone was enough to send him spiralling. It was probably just a stray, strung out guest trying to get home, but it made his blood feel like it was electric.

He made all his men stay on guard, shut down the gambling and horse racing in the garden and made every single person who worked for him stay on red alert. Perhaps he was over reacting but he would never admit that, better to be overly cautious than have something happen to you. After doing laps of the house, checking on the cooks and gritting his teeth through drunken chats with whoever managed to grab him, he finally made his way back to you.

There you were. Face lit up under the candlelight, eyes tired but still sparkling, obviously exhausted but still enjoying the conversation, wanting to keep everyone happy. You looked ethereal. And for a moment he just watched you from the doorway, captivated by the movement of your hands, the bow of your lips, the way that you formed your words, so careful and light.

Alfie noticed him straight away, smiling cheekily as he pulled you into him. “Mrs Shelby.” He said, putting emphasis on both of the words and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. It was crazy how he could rile Tommy up more than anyone without being tipsy or high, somehow knowing how to push all of his buttons. “If you’re ever in London right, come to the bakery. I’ll show you a good time.”

You rolled your eyes at him, instantly knowing his game. You followed his gaze and saw the man you loved, your husband, watching you from the doorway.

“Tommy.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” He said firmly, brushing Alfie’s hand off you a little harder than he needed to. “I need to borrow my wife.”

God. Were you ever going to get used to him calling you that?

His hand slipped into yours and you melted, his lips grazing your ear lobe, deep accent rumbling like waves. “Cmon, lets go outside.”

You would have followed him anywhere, to the edge of the world if he had looked at you the way he was now, with those goddamn sky blue eyes and that smug, boyish grin.

Instead he led you through the party, playfully tugging on your hand as you both ran, desperate for nobody to see either of you and try to trap you in another mind numbing discussion. He took you through the servants entrance in the kitchen and into the courtyard, one of your favourite areas of the gardens. It was beautiful sculpted, with its high, emerald green bushes and intricately crafted pots and flower beds. You moved towards the fountain in the middle, surrounded by the rows of lilac and salmon tulips that swayed like ballet dancers in the wind.

He cleared his throat as you watched the water drip and fall and ripple down the stem of the fountain, the night sky reflected across it like a painting. It wasn’t chilly out but still he wrapped his blazer across your shoulders, filling your senses with cinnamon and nicotine and whisky sours.

“I want to read you my vows.” He said.

You turned to face him, confused.

“I know we both said we weren’t writing them, and I haven’t, not really, but there are some things I need to say to you.”

You opened your mouth to speak but closed it, watching him under the moonlight, how beautiful and how strong and how vulnerable he seemed all at once. You could feel your heart beating rapidly, your belly coiling and twisting, somehow he always managed to knock you off balance. He came towards you, close enough you could see the faint scars on his face from fights he had both won and lost, see the brilliance in his eyes and the sadness that always seemed to linger deep down in them, the curve of his lips and the sharpness of his teeth, the way that they had clenched around your heart and never let go.

“I deserve a lot of bad things. I do bad things, and I always thought that everything good would be taken away from me. I wasn’t born into a life like this, I’ve worked hard and given my blood sweat and tears to live like this, to get the things I have now. I’ve spent a lot of nights alone. Fuck, I’ve... felt alone since the moment I got on that train to France, and ever since I’ve been trying to find... something.”

“I thought it was all of this, but maybe it isn’t. I was always searching for the next big thing, the next move on the chessboard, the next city to take over. I didn’t realise how none of it made me happy until I walked into the Garrison the day you came here.”

A pause. A beat of silence.

“Look, I’m not the most articulate man, but God, I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you since the very first moment that I saw you. And - and - ” His voice crackles, fizzles out like a firework. “That day that I almost lost you, that nearly fucking killed me. That was when I realised that you were the thing I was searching for. You’re it for me.”

His hands on yours, pulling you in.

“For the first time in my life I don’t have to pretend to be happy. Whenever I see you, I just am. I can’t promise that I’m not going to fuck it up, but I’m trying, you make me want to try. You want to make me be better. You make me better.”

“I love you, (Y/N).”

He said, pressing his palm to your jawline, looking in your eyes with such sincerity and love that you felt as though you were floating.

“Oh, Tommy.” You breathed into the night, swept up and drowning in him, lost in lust and love and devotion, pressing your lips to his. “I love you.”

[maysbanks]

she moves in her own way. (jj maybank)

due to the ASTOUNDING response to my first jj fic which i have to say a huuuge thank you to everyone that liked, commented & reblogged, it honestly means the absolute world !! i couldn't wait much longer to start writing for my boy again, i have so many fic ideas and cannot wait to get them out to y'all. this one is shorter than the last, & the title is inspired from the song 'she moves in her own way' by the kooks (lol) but isn't necessarily based off of it, it's just something that i wrote up quickly bc i was in my feels™️ . also i feel very unoriginal with the whole plot and aspect of this but im gonna post it anyway bc i love jj lmao. anyway hope u enjoy !

warnings: swearing, underage drinking, drug use, violence, jj with a gun™️

summary: reader walks the fine line between either pogue or kook, though technically a kook, she ignores all social standings of the obx and jj maybank cannot stop himself from getting caught up in her whirlwind.

( gif isn’t mine! please let me know if it’s yours so i can credit you. )

Everyone seemed to have a different perspective of you, unsurprisingly. You weren't really much of a social butterfly, you kept yourself to yourself, really. Nobody in the Outer Banks knew much about you at all, other than what they had come up with in their heads. And while you tried your best to stay in the shadows, that only seemed to make you stand out more.

You were known for being the best of both worlds - not really a Pogue, but not really a Kook either. While your social status and family wealth suggested you to be a Kook, your free spirit and reckless behaviour fitted you better towards the Pogue style. If anyone were to ask you, you told them you were neither.

Why should a name define you anyway? You thought it was all bullshit, the stupid territorial arguments and the snide comments from both sides. You thought it was ridiculous, you weren't living in The Outsiders, for fuck sake.

You moved in your own way, simple as that. You wouldn't let anyone tell you what to do, where you can't or shouldn't be, it was a free country you'd say, middle finger salute ready to aim towards anyone who dared cross you. You were an enigma, wild and careless, unforgiving and unforgettable. You didn't necessarily like the attention, but you got it. And you knew it, and you played on it, too.

You had used your irresistible charm more than enough times to bail JJ Maybank out of trouble, despite your parents' protest. They didn't have a problem with the Pogues, persay, how could they when your dad been one half of his life before meeting your mom and marrying into the rich lifestyle; they just had a problem with JJ, as many of the parents on the island did. He was an unstoppable force to be reckoned with, weed smoking, knuckles constantly torn, skin bruised, quick wit, sarcastic humour, daddy issues, you know the type. Kids loved him, parents hated him.

You were friends with JJ, you supposed. You spent your time with him talking about your days and smoking a joint, meaningful conversations turning into joking and general tomfoolery within seconds. With JJ, you were simply unapologetically you, and JJ never judged you. He never made you choose a side, seemingly content with the fact that you were a little bit of everything, though there was times when he teased you relentlessly about the Kook life, but that was just JJ.

And despite the social differences, him being a Pogue through and through, you technically a Kook, you were drawn to each other pretty easily. Not that you hung out all the time, but you loved every second when you did, usually joined by his group of best friends - John B, Pope, and Kiara. With Kiara a Kook herself but drawn more to the lifestyle of the Pogue's, she understood you more than anyone. You'd bonded a lot, and with each of them too.

JJ loved that you fitted in with them, like a missing puzzle piece. So perfectly, it shook him to its core. The pair of you were close, but he had no idea where he stood with you, like most people never when it came to you. You were like a rollercoaster, taking people for the most exciting ride of their lives that lasted a full three or so minutes before they returned back to solid ground. You'd given JJ a ride a number of times on your non-existent metaphorical rollercoaster, and he'd returned for another ride time and time again. You couldn't say no to that damned boy.

It was a blessing and a curse, the unspoken relationship you shared. A blessing because JJ was the best thing that happened to you, and a curse because that was your downfall. You never got attached to people, never given yourself the chance. But then JJ Maybank had come along, blonde hair and blue eyes, split lip and sharpened teeth, words cunning. You saw him as a challenge at first, the name Kook Princess haunting you as he spoke them, stood in front of you at the keg upon your first real meeting. He'd held a drink out towards you, smirk perfect on his pink lips.

You'd attended over a hundred kegger's in your lifetime, the Pogue parties more inviting than those of the Kook's. You danced and talked to anyone that came across your path, whether it be unknowing Tourons, unjudging Pogues, or unforgiving Kooks, you drew them all in. You didn't fit in with any of them, JJ had realised. You really did move in your own way, he thought. He liked that, he'd decided. And hey, you were pretty cute too.

On that particular night, he'd spoken to you directly for the first time in a long time. "Would the Kook Princess like a drink?" He'd asked, holding the red cup out towards you. You'd eyed the offended object, and subsequently him, too. He smirked at the attention. You had rolled your eyes.

"Don't call me that," you'd said simply, but taking the cup from his hands regardless. You took a sip, relieved to discover that he hadn't tampered with it in any way. You were still considered a Kook to most people, after all. You could never be too careful. "Thanks, Maybank."

And he'd blinked at you, lips suddenly raising to a sly smile as he shrugged, dimples winking at you as they appeared in his cheeks. "Anytime," and he'd spoken your name back to you and you couldn't get enough of the way it sounded coming from his mouth, and you realised hey, this guy is pretty cute, and the rest, as they, is history.

You were in the midst of another infamous Pogue kegger at the current, months after your first introduction to JJ Maybank and his friends, and you stood off to the side, listening to JJ intently as he ranted about the events of the day he'd endured. Starting from finding a Grady White sunken in the marsh, "A fucking Grady Marsh, they're like 500 G's man!", to discovering that the boat belonged to Scooter Grubbs, who had coincidentally been found dead that same day, to getting chased by two guys with a gun, to the finding of the motel key from the wreck and breaking in that same motel room, finding a safe full of money and a gun of all things, to their best attempt at laying low which, unsurprisingly, resulted in the kegger in the first place.

JJ was wild in his recite of the events, hands gesturing every which way as you watched him with your lips curled into your mouth, resisting a smile at his antics. When he finished he retelling, you raised an eyebrow and chuckled dryly. "So, complete and utter boring day for you, huh?"

JJ chuckled along with you, shaking his head as if he was still in disbelief from everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours. "Man, it was crazy," he muttered. He looked at you then, eyes sincere. "I wish you were there with us. It was like something straight from a movie, I'm telling you. I feel like such a badass with that gun."

Your secret joy at his confession of that he wished you were was short lived, as the last of his words sunk in and you felt dread build in the pit of your stomach. You stared at him, him so excited that he hadn't even realised your face had dropped, before you reached out and grabbed his arm, effectively halting his movements and stopping the hurried flow of words that were leaving his mouth.

"JJ," you said carefully, eyes trained on his as he stared, clueless. "Please tell me you did not take that gun from the safe."

Your heart dropped as you saw him falter, his lips helplessly moving but no words coming out. He held a hand up, as if to hush you, though you hadn't started to speak again, and then his hand had dropped just as quick as it was raised, his teeth biting down on his chapped lip as the realisation dawned on you.

"JJ Fucking Maybank," you spat, hands slapping gently at his arms, because you could never really hurt him, you just wanted him to know you were pissed. "Do you realise how fucking careless that is? How much trouble you could get into, if anyone knew you had a gun-" your voice trailed off, your eyes closing as you exhaled. "JJ, please tell me you don't have it on you right now."

His lack of reply was the only answer you needed, and your stomach churned as you stepped back from his figure, suddenly feeling sick. He followed you, though, not letting you get too far as he took your arms in his hands and tried to drag you closer to him once more. You shook your head, arms slipping from his hold as you glared at him fiercely.

"That's so fucking stupid, JJ. You could get into serious trouble with this, trouble I won't be able to get you out of." You warned, because you knew it was true. Your charm and looks could get him out of some trouble to its extent, but it was more so your parents wealth and status that got the both of you out of shit when you managed to get into it, and you also knew your parents would literally throw a fit if you got involved in something like this - carrying a gun was no joking matter. You stepped back once more, hand finding its way to your forehead. "And from a crime scene, no less. Fucking hell."

JJ licked his lips, standing back roughly as you watched, his jaw clenching. "Well I'm not asking for your help here, Princess," he taunted, the nickname sending a wave of annoyance through you. JJ knew it would. "It's not like I ask you to help me, you're just there. Thinking I need help, like I'm some fucking charity case, a fucking doll you picked up from the thrift store that was gonna be thrown out the next day."

You tried to protest, but JJ didn't give you the chance. "I don't need your help all the fucking time. I don't need your pity. I get that you won't understand because why would you? You're a Kook, you get everything you want handed to you on a silver platter. And you can argue and fight me about it all you want, but I know you know it's true."

He sighed heavily, hands running down his face in a sign of defeat. You watched him all the while, thankful that you had ventured off the outskirts of the party so that hopefully nobody had heard JJ shouting at you, your heart wrenching as his blue eyes settled on you. "I'm sorry, JJ," you said finally. You refused to cry, though the desire to at the sight of him being so mad at you tore you apart. "I'm just trying to look out for you. With the gun thing, with everything that I help you with. And I know I'm a Kook, and I know that my parents could afford to buy half of this fucking island if they pleased, but that doesn't define me. I care, okay? And I know I care a lot more than a lot of people in your life."

It was probably a low blow, and you knew it. But JJ took it in, let the words sink into his brain where they stayed there, his fists clenching at his sides. You crossed your arms over your chest, defeated.

"I'm gonna go back to the party," you whispered. "I'll see you around, I guess." You eyed his pockets, unsure of where exactly he held the gun. "Be careful, okay."

And even when you were angry with him, you still tried to make sure he was okay, that he stayed safe. There was multiple occasions you'd showed up unannounced, simply asking how his day was, if he okay, if he had eaten that day, stayed hydrated. At first the attention startled him, he'd never really had anyone look out for him in that aspect, and yet there you were, like an angel sent from the gods themselves, smiling down at him.

You cared, he realised. You cared so much that sometimes he couldn't take it, because he didn't know how. The most family he'd ever gotten close to having in his life was the Pogues, after losing his mother and subsequently losing his father too as he turned into the monster that he was, cold and distant, fists always poised ready for an imaginary fight, and he knew that someday the Pogues would even slip through his fingers. He couldn't let that happen with you. He wouldn't.

He'd started off in your direction, truly, he had. But then John B was grabbing him and averting his attention to him, and he focused on his friend, promising only a minute of his time. You were in his sights, stood a bit away, and he recognised the couple you were talking to as Sarah Cameron and Topper Thorton, Kooks through and through. He held his distaste back, and even held a drink out to offer to Sarah as she and Topper made their way past where he and John B were standing. Big fucking mistake, he realised quickly.

It had all happened in a blur of events, each little bit leading to big finale - as he watched his best friend being held down in the water, powerless to Topper who kneeled over him, hands forcing John B to stay put in the sea. Sarah was screaming at Topper, Pope was holding JJ back with all his might, Kie beside them as she screamed along with Sarah to let John B go. And there you were, suddenly beside JJ, gripping his arm tightly as you took in the sight with a horrified glare. JJ didn't even hesitate; the gun had been pulled from his shorts and was directed at Topper's head in the blink of an eye.

The fury in his veins was red hot and ugly, tearing through every part of him like a vice. This was the Pogues land, their side of the island, and yet the Kooks still thought they could get away with anything and everything - including, apparently, attempting to drown his best friend.

"Your move, broski," JJ uttered through clenched teeth. He could hear the screams of the crowd behind him, and he pulled the gun away from Topper's head and into the direction of the sky, firing two shots towards it as the crowd of people quickly dispersed, screeches sounding from all over. "Now everybody needs to get the fuck off our side of the island!"

He was shoved to the side as Sarah rushed to her boyfriend, telling him he was fucking crazy or something like that, he wasn't really listening. The shots rang in his ears, and the adrenaline of the moment soured through him. Kie and Pope were screaming at him, he could hear their voices distantly. His blue eyes were unfocused for a second, before they looked up, and there you were.

Sent from the gods themselves, once again. You looked vibrant, so insanely alive, lips red and cheeks flushed, eyes bright. You let out a shaky breath as you watched him. JJ clenched his jaw.

"He was going to drown John B," he thought he'd said, but he wasn't sure. He didn't really know what to keep track of at that moment, Kie and Pope's obvious disapproval at him literally doing the one thing they swore not to do, Sarah and Topper stumbling away from the scene in the distance, John B getting up and muttering something along the lines of he wasn't going to drown me, or you, simply staring at him.

Before he knew what he was doing, JJ had made his way towards you. The gun was still held in his hands, and you swallowed thickly as you eyed it. "You should put that away," you muttered. JJ seemed confused, before he caught on to what you meant and he shoved the gun back to the spot of in between his shorts and his hip. "You literally did the one thing I said not to, you tool."

JJ cracked a smile, small and uncertain as he gazed at you. You stepped closer to him, eyes glancing over his shoulder. "You really pissed them off," you said, meaning his friends.

JJ shrugged, because he didn't care about their opinion, he cared about yours. And if you hated him now, hated the fact that he was just some dirty Pogue who held guns against people's heads now, apparently. "I don't care about what they think," he spoke softly. You looked at him confused. "I care about what you think."

You smiled softly, shrugging one shoulder. "Topper was going to drown John B," you replied, matter of fact. "If you hadn't stepped in when you did, who knew what could have happened. Nothing could have stopped him." You bit your lip, hand reaching out and touching his face gently, thumb soothing over the worried line between his brows. "You did the right thing, J. A fucking crazy and stupid thing, potientally dangerous, but the right thing nonetheless."

"Yeah, that's kind of my go-to, if you haven't already noticed," JJ smiled, tongue running over his bottom lip. You rolled your eyes, though playful. "Look, I'm sorry about before, okay. I was a dick. I know you care, but sometimes that's what scares me."

Your eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression on your face as your hand dropped from his face to intertwine with his own hand, his gaze suddenly becoming fixed on your linked hands, his other absentmindedly playing with your fingers that held his hand.

"It's like, you're this untouchable thing. I mean, you don't belong to anyone, you refuse to go by anything other than your name, and you're like this perfect mix between Pogue and Kook even if you do hate it and everyone knows who are you and they make these stories up about you, like that's how popular you are," JJ chuckled. "And then you hang out with me, you look past all the dirty Pogue shit, see me for who I am, and you care. And you care so god dammed much that it fucking terrifies me because nobody's ever cared that much before about me, so why should you?"

His hand left yours to remove the hat from sitting atop his hair and then run his hand through the blonde locks. You could see his tongue running along the outsides of his bottom teeth, the action causing a bump beneath his skin. He looked nervous than you had ever seen him before, and you'd both gotten into enough nerve-wracking situations together to compare. You sighed as your hands reached for his face, gripping his cheeks and forcing his eyes to gaze down at yours.

"JJ Maybank," you started, grinning softly. "You listen to me while I tell you that you deserve the fucking world and more. All this shit that you're going through, all the crap you deal with on a daily basis, you carry it so well that nobody would even know. You fight through each day and I don't even know how you manage it half the time. I admire you so much, J. And I can't help but care about you, even if you don't want me to. I care about you so much, that you wanna know a secret? It scares me too."

JJ gazed down at you lovingly, his forehead moving to rest against yours. You welcomed the embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist and squeezing you gently, as if reassuring himself that you were actually there.

"JJ," you whispered as you were stood in silence for a precise minute, neither of you daring to break the silence until you had. His blue eyes stared into yours, awaiting the next part of your speech. You swallowed your nerves down, figuring fuck it. "I'm so in love with you."

He grinned, his head swooping down before you knew it and his lips pressing against yours in a heated embrace that sent a sensation of butterflies to fly wildly in your stomach, bashing against your ribcage and taking your breath away. Shivers flew up your spine, and every hair on your body stood on edge as the kiss grew heavier, tongues brushing and teeth clattering, bodies pressed against each other as much as they could manage.

When JJ's lips left yours, you almost whined. JJ grinned cheekily, hands digging into your hips. "I love you," he breathed against the skin of your neck as he buried his head there, lips tickling the flesh. "I can't believe you just macked on me while I have a gun in my pocket."

You rolled your eyes and tugged gently on his hair, spurring a laugh from him as you shoved him away and grinned despite yourself. "Do not remind me, please," you warned him, allowing him to pull you into his side as you made your way down the beach. "I still can't believe you took that thing."

"I knew it'd come in handy though," he grinned, pulling you closer with the arm thrown over your shoulder. You wrapped yours around his waist, face squished in his chest as you shook your head.

"You're an idiot, Maybank."

[sonderthroughthestreets]

Splitting Universes

Here is the sobbe fic that I wanted to write for their anniversary last friday but obviously im late for it lol

Someone said that Sander said “In every universe” because it comforts Robbe with his multiverse theory and that Robbe said “At least in this universe” because it comforts Sander who believes that life is what you choose to make of it. Sooooo, here is Sander painting on Robbe’s back while talking about the universe and brown-haired Sander asking Robbe to marry him. Hope you enjoy!

“Hold still, will you?” Sander’s voice faltered into a chuckle.

He was sitting on the floor, back to the edge of the bed, legs crossed, holding Robbe as he tried to glide his paintbrush across the skin on his back. The two of them had summer break before the start of the next year and they’d somehow found themselves fooling around, dancing in Sander’s room and finally settled into a spark of an idea in Robbe’s mind to let him paint his back. His shirt was gone and he’d sunk into the floor, crossing his legs too, leaning forward instead of letting himself lean back in the comfort of Sander’s arms.

“The paint is cold. I’m cold ok,” Robbe scoffed, turning his head to try to meet his eyes with a smile. But Sander smirked with half-lidded eyes and pushed his head back into place. He let out a breath of the tiniest laugh.

It was killing Robbe not to look at him. Especially not after he grew out his hair. Sander had cut it a few years ago and let it go back to its natural brown, let the bleach blond wash out and wash away. It was terribly short then, but now it had grown out in longer locks that he just had to style every morning. Today, it was tousled in a messy-but-every-hair-was-perfectly-in-place kind of way. It looked similar to when his hair was bleached but darker roots had replaced the white wash. Some days Robbe could swear he’d seen Sander like this his whole life and others he felt like he was looking at a whole new world.

He also wished that he could see his face right now, the concentration he wore when a creative mood strikes.

“Are you almost done?” Robbe asked.

“Not even close,” Sander answered, his fingers moving swiftly, changing between brushes and colours.

“Can you at least give me a hint?”

“Mmhhh,” he mused. “It’s something we talk about a lot.”

“That could literally be anything,” Robbe pouted. He wanted to know what Sander envisioned across his back.

“Let’s talk about it now,” he dipped his brush in water. “You think that when someone makes a decision, the universe splits itself,” he said. Nothing more. Silence as Robbe contemplated.

“You’re painting me the universe?” Robbe shifted to try to look back at him.

“Hold. still.” Sander gripped his shoulders.

“What kind of universe?” Robbe pondered. He lazily ran a finger down his own palm as he awaited his answer, the fan humming in the summer heat.

“I don’t know” he smiled, though Robbe couldn’t see it. “Any universe you want.”

The way he said that made Robbe smile too. The way that when he said it, he meant all the universes, that he could have any universe because in all of them, one way or another, they were together.

“Hhmmm,” Robbe murmured in contentment. He stared around Sander’s room: the Bowie posters spread across the walls, his camera laying on his disorganized desk, papers and drawing utensils scattered, his easel in the corner, the dresser off to the side, his clothes neatly folded on the bed. The open window let the warm breeze through and the sky made everything in his room glow the softest, palest blues, greys and greens. Robbe’s eyes finally landed on his shirt discarded on the hardwood floor and he felt shivers all over again as cold paint slid on his skin.

It was moments like these where they talked some, then fell into silence, talked some more and finally fell into each other’s touch that eased both their minds. Sander was very quiet now.

“What are you thinking?” Robbe asked.

A sort of sad smile crossed his face, one that he couldn’t see.

“Sander.”

And Sander knew that tone all too well. He delicately placed a hand on Robbe’s neck, softly smiled into his hair and kissed his head. Once, twice, a third time for good measure.

“Do you remember our first night at the hotel?” he asked softly.

“How could I forget?” Robbe sighed happily. But his fingers weren’t on him anymore and Robbe actually felt heat dissipate from behind him as Sander leaned back a bit. He turned his head the slightest, hesitant to look at him for fear he might actually ruin the work on his back. Robbe waited patiently. He recognized his insecurities at play but he wasn’t quite sure of what.

“I know that..” Sander started. “I know that that night I wasn’t...but I meant every word...and I know that I asked once already...”

He was grasping for courage to say what he wanted. Robbe knew he could be ever so confident in his words, even more so in his touch, but sometimes it faltered and he saw him sheepish and insecure. Things started to click in Robbe’s mind. They hadn’t exactly talked about this since that night. At least not seriously. It was always fun banter, like an inside joke or like the continuation of an ongoing plan that may or may not ever be seen through. They were so busy living in the moment, the future had seemed so far away.

It had been

“When we get married I’m painting everything in the house. We’re not buying prints”

“When we get married?”

“We’re getting married right now”

It had been

“Mr. Driesen”

“Oh, we’re married now?”

“In my mind we are”

It had been

“Do you think I should get another ring?”

“Depends. Do you want to be called Mr. Ijzermans?”

It had been

“You’re making croques again? Marry me”

“Okay”

Laughter and kisses always followed. Comfort in agreeing a million different ways was always found. But a concrete, tangible answer was never there.

Robbe understood now why Sander had seemed hesitant and unsure with all this talk of the universe and decisions. They’d been together for more than two years now yet they hadn’t really made official plans for marriage. They were still studying in uni which meant of course, they’d wait until after, but it was never a conversation that lasted very long. While Robbe had talked about all his theories, Sander had made sure to tell him that he’d choose him in every universe. But sometimes it seemed he became overwhelmed with that many versions of them and he didn’t want to think of a world where they might not choose each other every day. Robbe shifted his legs carefully and placed a hand on Sander’s knee, feeling the fabric of his shorts cling in the heat. A signal, a sign, a plea to carry on. They could both feel a nervousness set in, their hearts fluttering in this fleeting moment.

Sander sighed.

“Robbe Ijzermans” he said. “Will you marry m-“

He didn’t even get to utter the question before Robbe turned around, took his face in his hands and connected their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss.

 When someone makes a decision, the universe splits itself.

 Sander had a lot of time the past couple of years to think of this. Robbe loved to talk about the multiverse theory, the parallel universes, and the alternate dimensions. He talked his ear off about how each can be so different and in one he’d find himself being a skater or a gamer, in another he’d find himself studying anthropology, and in another he may even have gone to an elite school. Or more so maybe he could’ve been the one studying art instead. Or how he could be in one where he didn’t meet his friends, in one where he didn’t have to miss his mama so much growing up, or one where his dad made different choices. Choices. Decisions. It always came back to that. If we all made different decisions, life could’ve been very different, Robbe had said. And once we make a decision, there are two worlds, one where you chose one thing, another where you chose different.

Whether Sander wanted to admit it or not, that scared him a lot. It scared him to think there could be a world where he continued on with Britt or worse, one where he hadn’t met Robbe. And with each decision solidifying closer and closer a world where Sander and Robbe stay together, he had wondered if living in this universe was enough. If not thinking of the other worlds and staying here together was enough. 

Robbe had soothed his worries, tapped the worry lines on his forehead, kissed his temple and had run fingers softly through his auburn hair. He had reminded him of his own theories of life becoming what you choose to make of it. He had reminded him that they were together in this universe.

But nothing was reminding him of that fact more than this kiss they were now sharing.

Sander’s fingers tangled in Robbe’s hair, now a bit longer and fluffier, his mouth softly tracing unspoken words into his lips. He felt Robbe’s hands slide from his face to his neck to grip his black t-shirt and pull them up as they both rose to their knees, a more comfortable position than before. They both let each other fill their lungs up in this hot, searing kiss, somehow both passionate and gentle. Sander breathed out as he broke apart first.

“Will you?” he teased.

“Yes,” Robbe pulled him in for another kiss. “Yes.”

And just like that a decision was made, a world was created.

Sander broke the kiss again.

“I don’t have a ring for you,” he smirked.

“I don’t care,” Robbe’s mouth etched up as he drew closer, searching his lips. Both of their eyes twinkled in an enticing, tantalizing manner. Instead Sander leaned back and smiled, standing up to get his ring from the dresser.

“Here,” he slipped it onto Robbe’s slender finger.

“Thank you. It doesn’t fit,” he snorted because sure enough, it was a little loose and sliding off his hand. This proposal was far from the real thing Sander had planned, especially since they were still students, struggling to keep afloat in the midst of studies and spending time together, but this moment was finally real.

As Sander took back the ring and slid it on his own hand, Robbe asked,

“Did you really paint the universe on my back?”

Right. He’d almost forgotten what prompted him to think about their future together in the first place.

“Come,” he tilted his head in the direction of the bathroom in the hall. He took Robbe’s hands and lead him to the mirror where he turned him around and showed him.

It was a galaxy of stars and sparkles, colours of blacks, dark purples, greens, pinks and blues all mixed into a combination of an ethereal light. It was everything Sander had been thinking about with Robbe. His fears, his doubts, his joy, his love.

“In every universe, right?” Sander entwined his fingers with Robbe as they both stared at his back in the reflection. Robbe took the time to stare at it a while longer.

“Yeah,” he said. Then he looked at Sander with dark, dilated eyes, squeezing his hand. “But especially in this universe, too.”

[a-libra-writes]

Salt & Snow - Chapter 1

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader

Summary: The only daughter of House Caspian, close allies of House Stark, visits Winterfell with her family and meets the four interesting children that live in the great castle. Childish shenanigans and silliness ensues. 

Hi everyone!! Im gonna give a short fanfic series a try! ;w; I haven’t done this in years lol, and I’m a little proud of this. I think it’ll be around 6~10 chapters? I don’t want it to be long! (yes I am working on other requests i promise hahaha this just got away from me~)

Want to see your name in this fic? Use this fantastic extension for chrome!

The cold air hit her cheeks, and the only reaction she could give was delight. Normally she was scolding her little brother for throwing open the window to their carriage, but now she could only climb over him as she gazed out. The brilliant castle was in sight, and there was a sea of colorful banners all around it. She couldn’t imagine so many people in one place, all trying to fit into Winterfell. Even if it was a grand castle, how could it fit so many men and horses?

Her uncle leaned over her and her brother, chuckling at their starry-eyed expressions. “No leaning out the window. You’ll be there soon enough.”

Y/N recalled a time when her uncle let her lean over the bow of a ship to gaze at dolphins, but this didn’t seem a good time to remind him. It was hard to care about dolphins when she was so far from the sea, anyway. “Uncle, will there be room for us?”

“Of course, sweetling. Your father is a good friend of Lord Stark, remember? Do you remember the last time you were here?”

She shook her head, and so did her little brother, which was silly. He probably wasn’t even born then. Her father often mentioned Lord Stark and the great castle that was Winterfell. Supposedly he’d taken her twice, but they were such faint memories. Today was like seeing it for the first time.

“You were even smaller then, so I’m not surprised. I hope you two will behave yourselves while you’re here. Don’t make me write to your Lady Mother.”

At the mention of her, Y/N and her brother nodded again, except with more seriousness… Well, Y/N took it seriously, but Willam was already clambering back to the window. She felt her excitement begin to dwindle as she thought about her mother lecturing her over whatever thing she failed at, probably a botched courtesy. Her Lady Mother never lectured Willam when he ran through the horse stalls or wrestled in mud with the other boys.

Y/N patted at the neat braid at her shoulder, suddenly worried it was out of place. Her uncle would never lecture her about it being messy, but now she was thinking about it. She smiled at the shiny thread woven through the braid, and the pretty pearl at the end of it. Her father gave it to her. She wished he was here too, but he was riding on his huge black stallion ahead of their carriage. Uncle said Lord Stark gave him the beautiful horse. Y/N was wary of horses, but she liked that one.

Finally the carriage slowed to a crawl and made its way to the gates of Winterfell. Y/N gaped with her brother; it was so huge compared to their modest keep at Ramsgate. Y/N loved her family’s home, but it was like comparing a village to White Harbor. Her brother was bouncing like a proper five year old, tugging on her cerulean sleeves and pointing. “Look, look! A doggy!”

Huge banners flew on top of the parapets and unfurled on the walls. They were a brilliant white, and the creature running across them was as grey as the castle walls. She shook her head. “That’s a direwolf.”

Sometimes Willam looked at her as though she were a genius, which was a nice feeling. She pulled her rowdy brother into her arms and was pleased when he didn’t fight her. The banners and armored men on horses captured all of his attention. She used the distraction to untangle his hair and smooth out his tunic.

She was surprised when her uncle patted her shoulder approvingly, but it was a welcome gesture. The carriage had stopped, and she saw the black, teal and navy banners of their House passing the open window. She tried to be the calm lady, but she was feeling as bouncy as Willam.

Uncle Cole exited the carriage and opened the door for them on the other side. Y/N kept an iron grip on Willam so he didn’t just roll out and fall on his face; her Uncle picked the boy up and set him on his feet, then promptly held his collar so he didn’t go running off. With his other free hand, he helped Y/N down. She lifted her skirts and exited with much more grace.

Y/N looked over her dress, hoping it wasn’t too rumpled from the journey. Her Uncle said she could wear something comfortable for the trip and change into something nicer that evening, but Y/N was too excited to have a proper, real lady’s gown. She wore the beautiful blue and green of the sea, with beautiful little embroidered manta rays. They were her favorite part, and when she walked, her long sleeves swayed and made them look like they were swimming. With the threaded pearl in her hair, Y/N felt much older and more important than her eight years. She would be nine in a few months, and then ten, and by then she was nearly grown. Her lady mother said something to that effect, anyway.

She kept her skirts lifted as she walked through the yard and spotted her father. She would not run to him, because she was a lady, but she did allow herself a little happy skip. She thought he would pick her up like he always did, but his hands were dirty from riding, so she settled for his laughter.

“I’m sweating like a hog in summer, and my girl is fresh as a winter rose! That dress is lovely, Y/N. I know your mother would be proud.”

Y/N wondered about that. She was disappointed her mother was missing such a great harvest feast. “Maybe she should have come, father. What if she’s lonely?”

“Sweetling, the journey is too much for her right now, and she isn’t alone. She has your new brother, remember? He’s too young to leave, too, and she’d hate to leave him alone. Wouldn’t you?”

Y/N wasn’t sure how she felt about her baby brother. She hadn’t even had a chance to see him, but she remembered how her mother screamed when he came into the world, and it wasn’t a pleasant thought. The Maester said she was still bedridden, and she heard the washerwomen whispering about her condition. Willam was hard, they said, that’s why Lady Talia didn’t have a child for so long.

So why did she have another? She already has me and Willam. Y/N had asked the Maester, but he simply corrected her grammar and turned her attention to her studies.

It wouldn’t do to be unsure and gloomy today, not when they were in a grand new place and her father was beaming like she’d never seen before. “Can I write to her?”

“She would love that. Tell her all the details, don’t leave anything out.” When he laughed, his beard moved with him. Compared to other Northmen, her father’s was trim, and she liked that. He didn’t look old like the Maester or the horse master. “Little Y/N, do you remember the last time you were at Winterfell?”

“No.”

“Just so, you were barely to my knee, and Willam was still in your mother’s stomach. Do you remember their children?”

She knew the Starks had children, naturally, her parents and other adults mentioned them before. Y/N felt embarrassed she couldn’t recall any names, though. “No …”

“That’s fine, dear, it was a long time ago, and you weren’t here for very long. They have a girl your age, named Lyanna. You can play with her while you’re here. Their boys are too old for Willam, but I know you’ll get on well with them.”

It sounded like Y/N didn’t have much of a choice in playing with Lyanna or being nice to her brothers, but she didn’t mind meeting new children. Lord Manderly had no daughters to play with, only his two sons, and they were older and often annoyed her. One of her father’s men had a daughter, but she was younger and prone to crying at the drop of a pin. Y/N hoped Lyanna wasn’t like that.

She followed her father and uncle to the great hall of Winterfell, holding her brother’s hand firmly so he’d follow along. He was stopping and staring at everything, which she wanted to do too, but she was interested in seeing the hall and the Starks. It wasn’t nearly as crowded as she thought it would be when they entered, and gazing upon the banners hung up in the hall, Y/N realized they were one of the first families brought in.

Before her was the tallest man she’d ever seen. Her father was tall, she thought, he was bigger than the master-at-arms and her Uncle, but this one slapped her father on the back so hard she thought he hurt him. He had a great beard, too, and long black hair that was like the night. Beside him was a woman in beautiful white and grey silks, with hair so soft and brown, Y/N instantly thought of chocolate.

While her father and uncle loudly greeted the man, it was the woman who stepped toward her. Beside her were two children: A girl slightly taller than Y/N, and a boy slightly shorter. The girl looked just like the woman, down to her pretty brown hair and big grey eyes. She wore a lovely sky-blue dress that was simpler than Y/N’s, but she also had a braid that was tied back with a blue rose. The boy had long black hair that stuck up in a few directions and the same grey eyes. He wasn’t hiding his curiosity, and nor was his sister.

The woman bowed her head slightly, and Y/N attempted a curtsy while still holding her brother’s hand. “Lady Stark,” Y/N said, hastily trying to recall what she was taught. “It’s good to meet you. Thank you for having my family.”

“The pleasure is mine, dear,” Lady Stark said. She had a nice smile, and her steady voice reminded Y/N of her Lady Mother when visitors came. It was a comforting sound. Her daughter wasted little time in doing her own curtsy, but her excited words didn’t match the proper gesture.

“My name is Lyanna. What’s your’s?”

“Um, Lady Y/N of House Caspian.”

“I know which one that is,” Lyanna had a big smile. She seemed proud of knowing this, and she pointed to the little white manta rays on Y/N’s sleeves. “Your sigil is a black ray on a blue ocean, with navy waves. Your castle is on a beach!”

“Yes, that’s right,” Y/N held up her sleeve, and Lyanna happily admired it. Willam peered out from behind her skirt, and suddenly Y/N remembered him. “Oh, um, and this is Willam. My Lady Mother and youngest brother couldn’t come. Um, she wishes she could.”

“I wish she could as well, but I am praying for her health.” Lady Stark said. “I’ll look forward to seeing her next year.”

Y/N was about to ask why Lady Stark thought they were visiting next year, but the wild-haired boy took the spot beside Lyanna and spoke up. “I’m Benjen.”

“He’s the youngest,” Lyanna said, then added, “And the shortest.”

“You’re going to be the shortest soon, you know,” Benjen said. He seemed very good-humored. “Father said we’ll all be as tall as him. We’ll be able to put our elbows on your head.”

Lyanna scoffed loudly, and Lady Stark instantly raised an eyebrow. Before she could comment on that little noise, her husband took up Y/N’s entire vision.

He was tall.

Often, Y/N’s father and her uncle crouched on their knees when talking to her, but Lord Stark didn’t bother. He seemed to speak as loudly as the men at arms did when they trained. “Now, look here! You were up to here the last I saw you. Welcome to Winterfell, my lady.”

Y/N tried not to quiver in her own boots. She felt Willam’s little hand squeeze her’s, and she thought it was encouragement, but then she glanced over. The boy was trying to fight his own tears.

She opted to go for her courtesies. “Th-thank you, Lord Stark, you honor me.”

“Hah! Does she always speak so pretty? She’s a darling thing, Gareth. I wish Talia could have made it, but congratulations for your son. We’ll see them next time, I hope. Lyanna, Benjen, why don’t you introduce Y/N to your brothers?”

“I’ll watch Willam.” Uncle Cole said to Y/N before she could say anything about him. She worried her little brother would cry when his uncle took him from her, but she heard Cole say something about a knight and a wolf, and the boy’s eyes were filled with stars instead of tears. Y/N wondered if she was that simple when she was five.

Lyanna was quick to say “Yes, father!” and take Y/N’s hand in place of Willam’s. Before she knew it, Y/N was being dragged out of the great hall and out into the crisp, cold air. Benjen was hot on their heels, the air making his long black hair whip in every direction.

Benjen had a grin in spite of his words. “I thought father was going to make you cry, Y/N.”

“H-he wasn’t!”

“Brandon is pretty scary, too.”

“No, he isn’t. He’s just a big bother.”Lyanna said. “He thinks he knows everything because he’s eleven.”

“Lyanna’s only mad ‘cause he got to go riding this morning, and she had to stay and memorize banners.”

Lyanna made a move to punch his arm, but Benjen easily dodged her. Y/N was surprised she was allowed to move like that in a dress, then she looked down and noticed the hem of it was muddy.

They ran a circle around Y/N, Benjen not even bothering to really run, since Lyanna was hampered by her skirts. She knew it and gave up, tossing them down with frustration. The winter rose was sagging a little in her braid.

Y/N wasn’t sure what to say. “Um … I can meet your other brother, if you want.”

“Oh, Ned! Yes, Ned is better. He’s sweet and treats ladies properly.” Lyanna nodded, pleased with the suggestion.

“How old are you, Y/N?” Benjen asked.

“I’m nine in a few months.”

“Just like me!” Lyanna bounced. “Benjen is only seven!”

The boy wasn’t bothered by this. Instead, he took off running and called back, “Race to the training yard! Winner gets lemon cake!”

“You cheat!” Lyanna was already gathering her skirts and flying off. She whipped her head around, brown hair flying everywhere. “Come on, Y/N! Don’t let him win!”

“Um.” Y/N looked down at the pretty silver thread on her bodice, the little embroidered rays on her sleeves, and the neat hem of her dress. She looked around and, satisfying none of the servants were interested in what she was doing, pulled her skirts up to her calves, where her boots ended. She could run ladylike, couldn’t she? It was alright if her boots got a little dirty, because she could just clean them, right?

Y/N ended up doing something of a trot and skip, which didn’t look nearly as elegant as she pictured. She did her best not to lose sight of the Stark girl, and by the time she ran up to the training yard, she was trying not to huff and puff. Y/N hastily touched her braid and was relieved that the pearl was still there.

Lyanna’s winter rose had flown out at some point, and several strands of hair were in her face. She absently brushed them aside. “There you are, Y/N! Benjen cheated, as usual.”

An older boy was sitting on the fence, lazily swinging his legs. He bit into an apple. “Or you were too slow, as usual.”

“I would be faster if I had my tunic and pants!”

The boy snickered. “Mother would be angry.”

Lyanna had a retort ready, but Benjen waved to Y/N and called her over. “We found the wrong brother. Want to look somewhere else?”

Y/N glanced up at the boy, who wasn’t a real grown-up, but he was still bigger, especially when he sat up on that fence. He had black hair like Benjen, and while it was shorter, it wasn’t much neater. She didn’t like the look on his face, but she bowed anyway. “My name is Lady Y/N.”

“I’m Brandon. I’m going to be Lord of Winterfell.” He said in way of a greeting. He didn’t bother to stop eating his apple, or get off the fence.

Y/N was instantly annoyed.

Lyanna did that scoff again. “Right, he’s going to be an ‘important Lord’, so he’s busy. Let’s go find Ned.”

“He doesn’t want little kids tagging along, either.” Brandon said.

She ignored that. “Where is he, then?”

“How would I know?”

“Ugh. We’ll find him ourselves.”

Suddenly, Brandon asked Y/N, “Do you have a brother?”

“It’s ‘do you have a brother, Lady Y/N,’” Lyanna corrected quickly. “Where’d you leave your manners?”

“Same place you left your’s,” Benjen said easily, and both Brandon and Lyanna ignored that.

“I do have one.” Y/N didn’t like having to crane her neck up at this stupid wall to talk to this boy, even if he was the oldest Stark. “He’s three years younger than me. My other brother is a babe, and back at Ramsgate.”

Brandon huffed, and Y/N didn’t get what the attitude was for. It was Lyanna who explained, “Now that he’s almost good at sword fighting, he wants to fight every lordling that visits. He doesn’t even use a real sword.”

The older boy flushed. “I will soon! What do you know about swords, anyway?”

“I know as much as you, and probably more.”

That made him hop off the fence, and Y/N was dismayed to learn he was still tall without it. “Girls don’t use swords. Father already told you that.”

It was Lyanna’s turn to turn red with anger. Y/N was surprised at how quickly it came, and she wondered if this was a fight they had before.

“I bet I could use a sword and a lance better than you, if I was taught.”

“Well, you aren’t taught, and you won’t be, so you can’t be better.”

Y/N tried to speak. “Um, Lyanna, maybe we can do something else? Let’s walk around Winterfell —”

“Let’s try right now!” Lyanna said, not even hearing Y/N’s words. “I’ll use a stupid wooden sword, just like you. I’ll hit you right between the eyes with it!”

“You couldn’t reach me!” Brandon was yelling like his sister. “And Mother would have your head!”

“Are you going to tell on me? Afraid I’ll win?” Lyanna goaded, and that’s when Benjen tried to speak up.

“Brandon, stop yelling, everyone will hear,” He tried, nudging his older brother’s shoulder, but he was shaken off. Y/N tried to do the same to Lyanna, but the girl was as still as stone and couldn’t be moved. Y/N fretted, thinking of what her Lady Mother would do if she heard about this. She felt it was her fault, and she hated the idea of upsetting her father and the Lord and Lady Stark just hours after she arrived.

“Lyanna,” Y/N tried again to nudge the girl. She tried to hide her distress, but failed. “Come on, let’s go, I want to do something else.”

She looked to Benjen for more support, but the dark-haired boy was distracted. He was waving someone over, someone in the distance. Y/N looked with him — There was no way this person was an adult, and looking closer, Y/N saw he was a boy almost the same size as Brandon, but there was a small sword belted to his waist.

Lyanna stopped her arguing, and Brandon did too, but he was scowling. The new boy had the same soft, dark brown hair that Lady Stark had, and her pretty grey eyes. He said nothing, but Y/N could feel his disapproval.

Lyanna spoke first. “Brandon started it, he says I can’t use a sword and I know if I had one, I’d hit his stupid face —”

“— She’s a girl, and Mother said if she gets into another fight and ruins another gown, she’ll drag all of us by the ears around the yard —”

The new boy just let them talk over each other. When both Lyanna and Brandon saw they weren’t being heard, they huffed at each other. Lyanna crossed her arms.

Finally, the boy said, “We shouldn’t fight today. There’s lots of guests at Winterfell.”

Y/N didn’t expect him to say that, but it sounded like the right thing. To her surprise, Lyanna and Brandon looked equally sullen, as if they agreed.

“Brandon, you were supposed to be meeting guests with Mother and Father … and Lyanna, you already dirtied your dress.”

Lyanna opened her mouth to protest, then looked down at her muddy dress. She touched her hair, as if just noticing what a state it was in. Her mouth closed and she kept her arms crossed.

Brandon was ready to say something as well, but he just pursed his lips and made an annoyed sound. He and his sister glared at each other, but they said nothing. The new boy was giving his siblings a pleading look with those grey eyes.

“Fine,” They both muttered, and Benjen was smiling again. Y/N could feel the relief washing over her. She’d skip over this in her letter.

Lyanna lingered back to Y/N, her cheeks still red. She felt a bit embarrassed for acting like that in front of someone new, so she tried to move past it. “This is Y/N. She’s from the castle by the sea, at Ramsgate. Y/N, this is Ned.”

Y/N smiled and did her curtsy, grateful to the boy for restoring peace. She had a feeling he’d be nice to her, unlike Brandon. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She hadn’t expected him to hastily look down and mumble something. Had he not noticed she was there?

Brandon elbowed him, and Ned looked up, meeting her eyes with his own grey ones. She still liked the look of them, and now they were contrasting against the boy’s red cheeks. “Um. It’s nice to  meet you.”

“And?” It was Benjen’s turn to elbow him. Ned frowned at his younger brother, glanced at Y/N, hastily glanced away and added,

“AndwelcometoWinterfell.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at that. Lyanna was giggling at her side, and Brandon looked much more relaxed. The air cleared at once, and Lyanna nudged Y/N’s hand before taking it.

“Let me show you around Winterfell, it’s pretty here, even without the ocean. Oh, I know the best place to start!”

“She’s already in the best place,” Brandon said. “The stables are here, too. Let’s show her our horses!”

“I have the prettiest mare,” Lyanna said. “Do you ride? Oh, soon  Brandon is going to get a big horse, like the ones knights use in tourneys!”

Brandon beamed, and Y/N was glad the two had something they bonded over. Benjen added, “When you’re done looking at smelly animals, I know the best hiding spots.”

“And the kitchens, they’re making so many pastries for tonight!” Lyanna said.

“What about the top of the castle walls? And the big catapults.”

“The towers, too, especially the haunted one,” Benjen said. “Well, it’s scarier at night.”

Y/N noticed Ned hadn’t added anything to their list of suggestions. He actually seemed a little dismal, and he glanced up at the tall walls that Brandon mentioned.

“Um, Ned, where do you think we should go?” Y/N asked, wanting to include him.

He blushed again, and fiddled with the hem of his tunic. She thought it was odd how he had a little sword at his waist, but Brandon didn’t. “Oh. Um. I don’t know…”

“You’re coming with us,” Lyanna said, although Y/N didn’t think Ned would try to slip away. He looked forlorn about something, she just didn’t know how to ask or what to say. “We have to do as much as possible before you have to leave!”

He has to leave? But where? Is that why he’s so sad? Y/N wanted to ask him, but Ned was shrinking back behind Benjen and Brandon. The latter was already marching to the stables, calling the girls to follow him. Benjen tugged at his older brother’s sleeve to urge him along, just as Lyanna eagerly pulled Y/N.

Lady Stark was doing a very impressive job of managing a smile while fury burned in her eyes.

“Lyanna. Brandon. Benjen.” She said each name with great enunciation, and each child grimaced as their name was said. “To the baths. Now.”

None of them protested. Lyanna’s hair had long fallen out of its braid and her dress had a motley of grime on it. Brandon’s arms and cheeks were caked in dirt after deciding to show Y/N how to mount a real knight’s horse - and promptly falling. Benjen was dirty from his fingers to his toes because, while Lyanna and Ned were helping Brandon up, he decided to pelt his sister with mud and hay. She ran after him, tackled him to the ground, and that’s how her dress ripped, too. Brandon doubled over in laughter and Y/N expected Ned to intervene again, but he just sighed.

Ned was more or less clean, as was Y/N - she noticed some dirt on the hem of her dress, but she couldn’t do much about it, and she didn’t want to trouble Lady Stark. The woman sighed heavily, and she tried to return some sweetness to her voice.

“Sweetling, could you wash your hands for me? I’ll have a maid brush the dust out of your hair and fix the braid. Would you like that?”

“Yes, Lady Stark. Thank you very much.”

It was best to be courteous when the fire was under one’s “arse”, as her Uncle said, although Y/N wasn’t sure what that was and why fire would be under it. She liked the idea of her nails and hair being clean again, though. Lady Stark turned to her second oldest.

“Ned, it’s good everyone was having fun, but on important days like this, you should remind them how to act. I know Lord Arryn has taught you much about being a proper Lord.” She sighed, and much of the anger was gone from her at that point. “Brandon knows better, but he needs a cool head to set him straight. Do you understand?”

Ned looked as though he had been scolded, anyway. He nodded. “I know.”

“I’m not upset at you, love. I’m glad you’re home.” She gave him a quick hug, then turned back to Y/N. “I’ll show you where you can freshen up, sweetling.”

She was thankful Lady Stark didn’t take her hand; she’d already been almost reprimanded like a child, she didn’t want to be escorted like one. As they walked away, she glanced back. He looks lonely again.

His grey eyes met her own, so Y/N smiled and waved. He looked away, but eventually glanced back and gave her a little wave back.

The harvest feast was a flurry of colors and music. Y/N had attended such feasts at Lord Manderly’s beautiful castle, but everyone was so much bigger, so much louder here. Sometimes it was frightening, and she was happy to be seated close to Lyanna. They were at a table meant for the younger girls, but the ages were varied and Y/N could tell Lyanna was bored with all of them. Surprised at her own boldness, but getting antsy herself, Y/N was the one who suggested they seek out the boys.

“Great idea!” Lyanna said, and her enthusiasm made Y/N regret the suggestion.

No one paid them any mind as they left the table. Lyanna only seemed to be avoiding her mother and father’s gaze, but Lord Stark was loudly telling stories with Y/N’s father, and Lady Stark was in deep conversation with two other ladies. All it took was ducking behind two serving women and crawling under a table to make their escape to the door.

The cold air hit Y/N’s face again for the hundredth time, and it was no less refreshing. She missed the smell of the salty sea, but the mountains and snow had their own relaxing scent. She turned to Lyanna. “Do you know where they are?”

“I saw Brandon leave, I bet Ned and Benjen followed him. They always do.”

She was right. Close the feast hall was a yard, smaller than the big training yard, but still plenty of room for boys to poke each other with wooden swords and laugh. Brandon was taking on Lord Manderly’s two sons.

Like Lord Manderly himself, they were round, blonde and good-natured. They weren’t at all bothered by Brandon trying to take them on at the same time, if anything, they thought it was a fun game. They’d actually left her alone tonight, no doubt because all the other lordlings were playing knights and “sparring”.

“Wylis, Wendel!” Y/N called. Their father was the liege lord of her father, so it’d be rude not to say hello. Wendel stopped the game to answer back, but Brandon hit him square on the head.

“That wasn’t fair,” Wylis said. “You didn’t give him a chance to yield!”

“Hard to yield when you’re dead,” Brandon shrugged. Wendel rubbed his head, but still called “Y/N!” and waved. She waved back just to appease him, and Brandon took the chance to strike again, but this time Wylis called out and Wendel jumped back.

Y/N spotted Benjen, who was hanging upside down from a low branch on a tree. The three Ryswell boys were around him, wanting to do it too, and Lyanna announced her intention to climb higher than all of them. Y/N looked around for Ned, and didn’t see him.

Who she did see startled her. She thought he was a statue, but that was stupid. Who had a statue of a boy - no, maybe a young man? - in the yard outside of a feast hall? He was so still, and then, he moved.

His pale eyes looked down on her. Maybe it was the trick of the torches, or the moonlight, but they were almost colorless. When he stepped close, her head was just under his chest, and she was face to face with the emblem of a flayed, bleeding man.

Y/N could only manage a pitiful attempt at a curtsy. She recognized the house’s sigil, but the name of their lord and only son escaped her. She’d never met either, but it still felt like a failed test.

“What are you doing here?” His voice startled her, and she didn’t know why. She hadn’t expected it to be so … quiet, yet there was little if any warmth in it.

“I …” She was allowed to be here, she was a guest, the same as him, but Y/N still felt herself faltering. She frantically glanced back for Lyanna, but the girl was too busy playing.

She was smaller than him, but she felt even smaller, and she hated it. Y/N was ready to dart back inside when she heard snow crunching behind her. Just a moment later, someone put a hand on her head.

“Roose, your father is looking for you.” It was Ned’s voice. Y/N glanced up, feeling comfort in his presence and the warmth of his hand. Normally she would’ve shaken him off, but she stayed still.

The Bolton boy said nothing to that, not at first. He glanced down to Ned’s hip, where the thin sword still was. Y/N noticed he had one himself, but it was a real one. A proper one.

It was Wylis’ oblivious voice that broke the tension between the three of them. “Roose! Come join us!”

Y/N couldn’t believe he was speaking to a proper lord like that, and she fearfully glanced at the taller boy to gauge his reaction. He had none. His icy eyes glanced toward the children climbing the tree and Brandon, and he simply said, “I haven’t used a wooden sword in years.”

That was it. Not willing to indulge in children’s games, the Bolton boy brushed past her, and Y/N felt the night air get just a little colder. She shivered, then felt warmth close to her fingers. At some point, Ned had moved his hand to her’s, but he didn’t make an attempt to hold it. Y/N decided to.

“Thank you,” She said, and she liked the little smile he gave her. He only met her eyes for those few seconds before glancing downward.

“Don’t be afraid of him. You’re safe here.”

Y/N nodded, even if she still felt anxious. The sound broke her out of her fear, and Ned led her over to the tree. Soon Brandon and Wylis and Wendel joined them, too, and everyone ended up cheering on Benjen as he swung to the highest branch.

Y/N stayed for three more days, delighting in playing with her new friends. It was mostly her, Lyanna and Benjen, but sometimes Brandon and Ned would join their games and exploring. She wished Ned would talk to her a little more, but he always seemed embarrassed, or one of his siblings would talk over him.

When it came time to leave, Lyanna started to cry, and that made Y/N cry. “You have to visit next year!” She said, hugging her companion close. “You have to!”

“I will,” Y/N said, already promising it without knowing if she could. Didn’t Lord and Lady Stark mention it? “I’ll ask my father and mother if I can come next year.”

“I’ll ask mine, too! Maybe they’ll let me go to Ramsgate. We’ll built sandcastles and collect shells!”

Y/N wanted to stay in Winterfell, but she wouldn’t be picky. She gave Benjen a hug, too. Ned had a shy goodbye for her, and Brandon was off on his horse somewhere. Lady Stark kissed her brow and said she was welcome at anytime, and Lord Stark patted her head, very similar to what her father did, except his hand was huge.

It was usually Willam sticking his head out the carriage, but he was fast asleep, and Y/N had no shame hanging halfway out to wave at the Starks as she left. Eventually they were too small to see, and then the castle gate closed, and her Uncle gently urged her back inside.

“When are we going back?” Y/N asked him, and she didn’t understand why he laughed. She was being serious.

“Sooner than you think, little ray. Your mother will be very pleased to hear you had so much fun. What did you think of the Stark boys?”

“Ned is quiet, and Bran is too loud. Ben is nice.” Y/N shrugged. “Lyanna is my friend, though.”

“That’s good. Very good. You can tell your lady mother all about them.”

Why? I sent her a letter. Y/N thought, but she just nodded and glanced out the window to watch the passing countryside. She didn’t understand why her uncle was so pleased, and she recalled her father asked that question, too … and didn’t Lady Stark? “What do you think about Winterfell, Y/N? Are you getting along with the boys?”

Y/N frowned. Maybe they thought I wouldn’t like Lyanna’s brothers because the only one I have is so young.

Whatever the reasons, Y/N quickly pushed them from her mind as she admired the passing forest and streams. It began lulling her to sleep, and she tried to make herself comfortable as the carriage jostled and the horses padded along noisily. She was fast asleep by the time her uncle covered her with a blanket.

[icyharrington]

Is It Wrong?- The Epilogue (Michael Langdon X Reader)

HELLO ALL!!! here is the long-awaited epilogue to finally finish the is it wrong series. i sincerely hope y’all enjoy this, and i am SO sorry for taking forever to write this!! i had some kind of mental block stopping me, but i finally forced myself to sit down and JUST DO IT. i wanna thank every last one of you who’ve supported this series of filth, especially the ones who’ve been here since the beginning. when i published that first chapter, i never realized just how much joy this fucked up little story would bring into my life. y’all are the best. 

plot: it’s been 5 years since your whirlwind fuckfest-turned-romance with your stepbrother, michael langdon, came to its angst-filled end. life is good, but there’s just one thing missing.

warnings: fuckboy michael, fem!Reader, post-high school au, fluff, some angst, cursing/talk of sexual shit/yanno the deal lmao. no smut..... IM SORRY LOL IT JUST DIDN’T FIT INTO WHAT I HAD PLANNED!!! but i hope y’all still like it regardless lmao

word count: 4k

tag list*: @alicecooper19 @wroteclassicaly @ritualmichael @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @trelaney @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @kissydevil @sloppy-wrist @michael-langdon-appreciation @ccodyfern @sojournmichael @starwlkers @theinevitableprophecy @divinelangdon @maso-xchrist @space-princesssss @ahslangdon101 @isabellaserpentiawesson @stupidocupido @bademliimagnum @nana15774 @urlocalgothb @hexqueensupreme @gold-dragon-slayer @pr1ncessd1e @langdonsboots @langdonstrash @isoldedax @fckinsupreme @hisgirlwonder @venusxxlangdon @obsessivenostalgicbaby @noelle525 @kleinegamerin @lambofcairo @kiiteiru @littledemondani @beriveri @dcvilrising @grossgayartist @featherpool-852 @discocalico @cryptid-coalition @nu-tt @diamcndscarred @chocolateandhorror @michaelsfrenchtoast @ms-mead @sarcasticbxtch20 @ringpop-poppy @coollangdon @s7venwonders @imjustasadhoe @melodylangdon @bahsasblog @codycrazy @sojournmichael @perfect-ginger-maniac @baphomet-wears-gucci @bigstudentpatrolbonk @langdonsgothgf @jazzcowgirl @a-n-t-s @blind-daydream @langdonsblood @ritualmichael @myluciferiscody @fentycoven @gracebtw @bongwaternation @fckinsupreme @thewalkingtrenchcoats @king-of-mischief-and-bitchez @hoseokchild @witchywcmans @satanicbimbo @mallorys-winter @langdonskillerqueen @anantarora @aradevil @anemia-doll @muralskins @funtomimagines @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes @our-mrlangdon @lotsofhunny @sevenwonderwitch @horrorstreet @kpopmademedo-it @naughtygranger @codyshands @krazycags01 @skullag

*if you asked to be tagged but aren’t on my tag list, i apologize!!! some blogs just can’t be tagged for some reason :(

You looked out the window and onto the rain-slick city streets, captivated by the way the rows of glowing neon signs reflected in the puddles, and you smiled.

Everything was as it should be.

Sandwiched between your two best friends in the back of the Uber, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride at the thought that you’d made it. You’d graduated college, managed to land your dream job, and, most recently, you’d finally been able to get yourself a spacious apartment in the city you loved most. It was the first time in your life that you’d ever felt truly in control of things.

Tonight was a celebration of those accomplishments; you and your friends had arranged to go to the bars by your new apartment that night and get shitfaced like you were college freshmen again, just enjoying each other’s company. You could already feel the warmth of the shots of Fireball you’d pregamed with earlier that night, cheeks flushed and rosy. Life was good.

The Uber screeched to a halt in front of the bar, your friends’ resulting drunken squeals drowning out the rap song that drifted loudly through the speakers. You grinned, waving a quick goodbye to the bored-looking driver before dispensing onto the street with your group, one by one.

Through the glass windows, you saw a lively scene; it seemed as though you’d chosen the perfect night to go out. The bar was dim, lit with overhead lights that shifted from color to color, a band stationed at the stage in full action. People danced, drank, sang; you could see couples making out sloppily in booths. This was going to be a fun night.

Outside the bar stood two skinny boys, dressed casually in ripped jeans and band t-shirts, who you were nearly certain were underage. They chatted as they smoked cigarettes, seemingly unfazed by the chilly breeze and light drizzle coming down over their mops of overgrown hair. One of them, the lighter-haired one of the pair, almost reminded you of…

“Hey ladies,” said one, blowing cigarette smoke from the corner of his mouth with a smirk. You could feel his alcohol-glossed eyes travel up and down your body, drinking in your fishnet-clad legs and prominent curves, accentuated in a maroon leather miniskirt. “You trying to have some fun?”

At this, you and your friends erupted into giggles, long fingernails gripping at each other’s forearms as you fought to balance yourselves.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” your friend said, resulting in a fresh wave of laughter.

Ignoring the boys’ scowls, you continued inside, sighing in relief at the warmth, which was only reinstated by the slew of sweaty bodies flowing throughout the building. The music was loud- perhaps not the most accurate in terms of pitch, but it was certainly good enough to dance to, and, luckily, you were in a dancing mood.

“You shoulda gave them your number,” your friend joked as you made your way to the bar, her voice raised so you could hear her above the noise. “When’s the last time you’ve gotten laid?”

You rolled your eyes. Ever since you’d broken up with your ex a year before, your friends had been nagging you to engage in causal hookups to help you get over him- they’d tried setting you up with any single man they could get their hands on, and had even gone as far as creating a Tinder page in your name. In all honesty, you had no interest in men at the moment; you were far more focused on your career, which was your top priority for now. Sure, you got horny sometimes, but wasn’t that what vibrators were made for? You were twenty-two. You had your whole life ahead of you to find some good dick.

Besides, most men you’d been with in the past could hardly satisfy you, so it seemed almost better to do things on your own. The only man you’d ever actually enjoyed being with was…

You flinched, pained by your second reminder of a certain blond-haired fuckboy that night. Even now, nearly five years since the last time you’d seen him, it hurt to think of his name.

“Three Sex on the Beaches, please,” your friend said to the bartender, before turning back to look at you. “Sounds like something you’re in need of.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, drumming your fingers on the wooden surface as you turned to watch the band, which seemed to be some kind of punk-pop-rock hybrid, the members decked in leather and chains.

“You know I’m right,” your friend shouted, running her manicured fingernails through her hair as she craned her neck to look at the bartender over her shoulder. “Hey, the bartender’s pretty cute. And he even kind of seems like your type.”

You glanced back disinterestedly, hardly breaking your attention from the band to look at the man in question. Right now his back was to you, and he appeared to be talking to some drunk girls as he fixed your drinks; his blond hair was slightly outgrown, fraying out in unkempt curls at the base of his neck, toned bicep flexing under the thin shield of his form-fitting white t-shirt as he reached for a bottle of peach schnapps.

From what you could see, he did seem like your type- almost too much so, it almost starting to creep you out how similar this guy looked to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You looked away.

“Oh yeah, he is cute,” your other friend said, leaning her elbows back on the bar. “(Y/n), you should pull some moves on him.”

You groaned. “Why are you guys so obsessed with getting me fucked?”

“Because, (y/n). You’re gonna get cobwebs down there if you don’t get your shit clapped soon. Eventually you’re just gonna forget how to fuck altogether,” your friend said, her voice earnest.

“Yeah,” agreed your other friend. “Your vag is gonna close up like a pierced ear when you forget to put in earrings for too long.”

“Three sex on the beaches?” came an amused-sounding voice from behind you, and within the first few syllables of the man’s sentence, you could feel your throat start to close up. You knew that voice anywhere, raspy and rich and warm, even five years since you’d last heard it. But… how? Michael was in California. It had to be some kind of doppleganger working behind the bar. But damn, that was uncanny…

You were almost afraid to turn around, doing so reluctantly, too nervous to care about the fact that you were gnawing all your vampy lipstick off your bottom lip.

“Yeah, that’s ours,” said your friend brightly, accepting her glass, and you decided to rip the band-aid off, forcing your body to turn all the way around.

“So you ladies like sex on the be- (Y/N)?”

Holy ever loving mother of christ. It was him. It was actually. Fucking. Him.

There behind the bar, with plump lips agape and saucer-wide baby-blue eyes, was Michael Langdon, looking almost exactly the same as you remembered. Now, though, most of the baby fat had gone from his face, with one silver earring dangling from his left ear and stubble shadowing his even-more-defined (if that was even possible) jawline. Your mouth went dry, opening and closing as you racked your brain for something to say, heart racing so quickly in your chest you thought you might drop dead at any moment.

“You guys know each other?” your friend asked after several seconds of silence, stretching past you to exchange a glance with your other friend, an immaculately-drawn eyebrow poised in concern.

“Uh- yeah. We, um. Michael, why are you here?” The words didn’t come out exactly the way you’d planned for them to, but his presence had you tongue-tied. In a matter of seconds, you felt like you were eighteen again, broken-hearted and in love and overflowing with red-hot hormones all at once.

“I- (y/n), why are you here?” You could tell that Michael’s lips were beginning to creep into a smirk, and your stomach dipped.

“I just moved to the city,” you said, gripping the edge of the bar and breathing slowly to try and calm yourself. You’d fantasized about finding yourself in this very situation so many sleepless nights before (not that you’d ever admit it), but never had you really expected for something like this to happen. This had to be some sort of profound universe-aligning moment of fate or something, because this was all way too fucking weird to be a coincidence. “I got a job near here. I thought you were in California?”

Michael shook his head with a shrug, sliding your drink across the bar towards you as your friends watched on with quiet fascination. “Haven’t lived there since- damn, has it been three years now? Yeah, I kind of dropped out of college.”

Not really surprising, you thought, relaxing a bit as you lifted your drink to your lips. Michael never had really struck you as a college type.

“So how’d you end up here?” you asked through a wince. The taste of vodka was strong on your tongue even despite the compensating ingredients of your drink, and you still hadn’t managed to get used to the taste of hard liquor even after four years of college.

“Well, I ended up meeting this girl at a party and we became like, boyfriend and girlfriend or whatever,” he said with a half eye-roll, as if he was too cool to admit to something as sensitive as being in a relationship. “But she was in college and I was like, in a band, which didn’t really end up working out, and then she graduated and got a job offer here in the city.”

You licked your lips, picturing Michael as the front man of a rock band, pushing sweaty strands of blond hair back from his forehead as he gripped a microphone with one calloused hand. If only he’d had the talent to match with the look.

“So I was still living with my mom and I needed an excuse to move out, so… I moved with her.” He gave a nonchalant shrug, shirt pulling up slightly at the hem and exposing a sliver of his smooth, firm torso; you were almost ashamed that your mouth began to water.

You tried to ignore the inkling of- jealousy, was it? No, not jealousy, that word was far too harsh for what you were feeling- surrounding the idea that Michael had moved here for a girl, and you went to wash it away with another sip of alcohol. It’d been years. You needed to get over yourself.

“So you live with her now?” you asked coolly, or as coolly as you could manage, looking down into the muddy-organgey abyss of your Sex on the Beach. Your friends, having apparently picked up on the fact that you were in the middle of a very important conversation with a very important person, had taken it upon themselves to join the small crowd surrounding the stage, leaving the two of you alone.

“Fuck no. She ended up fucking my best friend. But I already had this job and I liked the scenery so I stuck around. Wasn’t like there was anything better waiting for me in California.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Now you know how I felt when you fucked (b/f/n).”

“Oh come on, give me a break. I was eighteen. And she had great tits.” He was leaning forward on his elbow now, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and grinning at you. “Admit it. You were just mad ‘cause you wanted to be the one to get the pipe.”

You snorted, trying not to think too deep into the warm, fuzzy feeling that was starting to flourish in the pit of your stomach and travel up towards your fluttering heart. “Oh, please. I used to fucking hate you.”

“Yeah, but you definitely didn’t hate fucking me,” he said with a wink, pink tongue darting out to wet his full bottom lip. “Though I definitely don’t blame you. I was a huge fuckboy.”

“Was?” you joked, taking another sip. Your eyes fell to a small tattoo on his inner forearm- a simple four-leafed clover, which you secretly thought looked sexy on him.

“Still got that smart mouth, I see,” Michael said, pale eyes glinting with a familiar mischievousness that you hadn’t realized you’d missed until right then. “There must be a lucky guy on the receiving end of all that attitude.”

“Nope,” you said flatly, flipping your hair over your shoulder and leaning forward, perhaps subconsciously hoping for your cleavage to become a bit more pronounced. “Men bore me these days.”

“Men? Or just all men who aren’t me?” He flashed you a devious sideways grin, and your mouth fell open at his boldness. “You’re looking pretty good tonight, baby sis.”

“Hmm. I don’t think that title is quite accurate anymore,” you retorted, hoping he couldn’t tell how flustered his usage of the old pet name had gotten you- apparently he still had that particular talent intact. “But you don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Yeah?” He glanced down at his shirt, which you only just now noticed was stained with some kind of brown liquor. “Not exactly the kind of thing you’d want to be wearing when running into your first love.”

Your heart stirred in your chest, and you could see Michael’s cool smile fade into a panicked wince. First love. You were Michael’s first love.

“First love, huh?” you said softly, tilting your head to one side to regard all of Michael’s handsome features at once. There’d always been some semblance of hope, deep in your belly, that Michael’s feelings for you all those years ago had surpassed simple lust and teenage hormones, but you’d of course had your doubts.

“Well, I mean. Not love, but like. You know.” Michael lifted one hand to scratch the back of his neck, and you could almost swear you saw a dusting of pink cross his porcelain cheeks. “Actually, I mean, yeah. You kind of were my first love. Kinda fucked up that my first love was my stepsister, but…”

“Well, you were my first love too. Unfortunately. You put me through hell, you know that?” You were only half-joking, idly twirling a strand of (h/c) hair around your finger, shifting your weight onto one leg to jut out your hip.

“God, yeah. I know. I suck.” He shook his head, loose waves falling to obscure his hooded eyes, and quickly he tucked it back behind his ears. “I really am sorry, you know.”

You shrugged. “We were just stupid, horny teenagers. It’s all good.”

“Yeah, I mean, but I never really stopped feeling guilty about the way I treated you. You gave me so many chances that I never deserved,” he said, leaning in close so he didn’t have to scream for you to hear him. “You were the perfect girl for me and I took you for granted.”

“Well, like I said…” you paused to take a swig of your drink, nursing your light intoxication, which had affected you to the point where the flavor of alcohol no longer made you cringe. “We were stupid teenagers. And I was very stupid to keep taking you back. Especially after that god awful Applebee’s date.”

He laughed, and your insides warmed at the sound, a light giggle that you only ever reserved for crushes unintentionally passing your lips. Why did this all feel so right?

“Look, I was broke, okay?” He moved in a little closer, crystal blue eyes locked with yours, and for a fleeting moment you thought- or, rather, hoped- that maybe he’d kiss you. Of course, you knew that such a prospect was only wishful thinking, but still you felt a sting of disappointment when he didn’t.  “But I can promise you that if I took you out now, it wouldn’t be to Applebee’s.”

You took a second to respond, your clouded mind trying to figure whether or not that’d just been a proposition of sorts. Fuck it. “You might just have to prove that to me.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiled, this time a little softer than his usual devilish smirk. “A girl like you really wants some loser bartender to take her out?”

You cocked your head. “A girl like me?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, look at you.” He sighed, dragging his gaze up and down your body, which you had to admit looked pretty bangin’ in the outfit you’d chosen for tonight. “I mean, it goes without saying that you’re a fuckin’ ten. But you’re also smart. And successful.”

“How do you know I’m successful?” There was a tiny part of you that was eating this up, having the once-big-and-bad Michael Langdon practically crawl at your feet. “I never even told you what I do for a living.”

“I just assumed, since you said you just moved here, and we both know this city ain’t cheap. But I always knew you’d be successful. I mean, you’ve always known how to go after what you want.” he said. “Plus that outfit looks expensive as hell.”

At this, you struck a dramatic pose, having drank enough that you didn’t really care about making yourself look stupid. “Well, I wouldn’t say it was expensive as hell, but it definitely was worth a few paychecks.”

Michael clicked his tongue but chuckled, a longing expression apparent on his sculpted face. “You’re out of my league.”

You scoffed, slurping up the last of your drink. “I don’t believe in leagues. I mean, I pulled you when we were in high school, didn’t I?”

“You were out of my league then, too.”

“Oh, please.” Such a statement was enough to make you laugh out loud, perhaps a bit too loudly, but you thought that might’ve been propelled by the fact that you were pretty damn drunk now. You shoved the now-empty glass towards Michael, settling your hands on your hips. “You were like, the hottest guy in school.”

He raised a brow, a cocky half-smile stretching across his lips. “Oh yeah?”

You hiccuped (you always had been a lightweight). “Duh.”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, picking up your glass and bringing it off to the side to be cleaned. When he returned, he was brandishing a bottle of Windex and a stained washcloth, which was draped effortlessly over one broad shoulder. For a reason that could not, for the life of you, be explained, this view of Michael compelled you to squeeze your thighs together.

“You know,” said Michael slowly, spraying the wooden surface of the bar with chemical blue, “it’s kind of creeping me out how weird this all is. Like, us both ending up here. After five years.”

“I know, right?” Your eyes fell onto Michael’s veined hand, gripping the cloth that was now being used to rub down the bar, and you fought back the sudden urge to run your fingers over it. “I mean, it’s like, everything is aligning so perfectly. It has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

“Didn’t we say that to each other? That night on the beach right before our parents split? That if things were meant to work out, they would one day.” He sucked his lips into his mouth, taking in a sharp inhale and letting his head fall back towards the ceiling.

“It’s like everything’s finally fallen into place.” You breathed, allowing the amalgamated scent of liquor and cigarettes and cleaning chemicals to consume you, hips swaying back and forth to the mellow cover song the band was playing, imperfect but beautiful. “We’d be stupid not to try things again.”

“We would, wouldn’t we?” Michael said, tossing the rag off to the side once he’d finished his cleaning, the surface of the bar now so shiny you could practically see your reflection in it. “I promise this time, if you really want to give me a second chance, I won’t fuck things up. I’ll treat you how you should’ve always been treated.”

There was something about the look in his eyes that made you believe him.

From the crowd by the stage came a chorus of voices, most off-key, as they began to sing along to the band’s cover song, which you were certain you’d heard before, but couldn’t quite place when.

And all that is now

“Hey, I love this song,” Michael said suddenly, as if it hadn’t just been playing for the last several minutes, “fuck, this brings me back to high school.”

You wondered if he still chewed cinnamon gum, remembering the sweet spicy scent of his hot breath on your throat, late at night in the back of his cluttered sports car, the dashboard lights illuminating your half-dressed bodies. You wondered if he still played video games with those ridiculous oversize headphones, if he still liked to take midday naps, if he still fell asleep to South Park reruns.

Most of all, though, you wondered about the things you’d never witnessed, all the things you’d missed over the past five years.

And all that is gone

“Do you still chew cinnamon gum?” you asked abruptly, too drunk to worry about whether or not such a question was weird to ask.

He wiggled his eyebrows, reaching into the back pocket of his torn black skinny jeans (god, he’d always looked so good in those) to retrieve a crushed pack of gum, CINNAMON printed in red lettering across the front.

“Hell yeah,” he said, pulling out a piece and tossing it to you. “That shit beats mint by far.”

You unwrapped the gum and popped it in your mouth, immediately flooded with memories the moment you began working into it with your back teeth.

And all that’s to come

He reached out to flip the foil wrapper over, smoothing out its creases before grabbing a black pen from next to the register. You watched through your dreamlike haze as he jotted down a series of numbers in crooked, loopy handwriting, his tongue poking from the corner of his mouth in concentration. Underneath the phone number he wrote something else, in bold capitals, turning the paper around and sliding it towards you with a wry grin.

666-425-0493

LET’S TRY THIS AGAIN

You took the paper, folding it up and shoving it deep into your skirt pocket, inadvertently sinking your teeth into your lower lip. “Maybe I’ll call you sometime, big bro.”

For a fraction of a second, he landed a glance on your chest, lips twitching upwards just slightly at the corners. “Oh, I’ll be posted up until you do.”

“How about another Sex on the Beach?” you said, even though you were drunk enough on Michael’s presence as it was; it felt like you were floating in the blackness of outer space all while rolling with the soft, turning waves of the ocean, and you couldn’t help but want to feel this way forever.

And everything under the sun is in tune

“Coming right up, ma’am,” came Michael’s teasing reply, making you squirm; your eyes fell shut as you allowed the band’s blaring drum and bass to swallow you whole, swaying aimlessly to the rhythm, your head lolling back and forth.

The music was loud enough to drown out your thoughts, and the sound only increased as the song came to its powerful end, your teeth chattering with adrenaline as an electric chill made its way up your spine.

But the sun is eclipsed by the moon

When you opened your eyes, Michael was back in front of you, and all but the colorful overhead lights had dimmed; the entire bar was potent with color, Michael’s angular features appearing so much softer now, cast with bright purple, then blue, then a shade of pink so vivid it looked almost otherworldly.

Your eyes connected with his for what must’ve been the thousandth time in all the months you’d known him, but you felt, deep in your bones, that this was really only the first.

You had a good feeling about this.

[sweet-xoxo-thatcares]

Pan? Polysexual sounds better now

Back to guys, gay girls, nonbinaries, pan, bi, gender-fluid, and queer people.

I might have to take a recap on matches who are trans for right now,

I still have a lot to learn about what my true identity is for right now.

Because I really can't stick to just one label...

Aye, that's just me. And dating apps are starting to feel like a job, there's too many people matching with me and trying to remember names is getting a lot to handle when you're on 3 different apps and about 20 conversations going at the same time. And still 99 people waiting on you to swipe right on them, on each one. And plus I'm not as picky about looks as I was before, so I'm mostly reading just bios, analyzing photos to see what could be their interests in, and making sure I'm not being too passive on red flags when people talk to you.

I will admit, I still swipe right on them if they're trans and I'm attracted to them. I just know me, I'd rather date someone who was fully transitioned or somebody who is still on the nonbinary, before part. Only because I know me.

I had to watch someone I had already grown into getting to know and getting attached to, and then when I finally got comfortable with them for over a yr, they changed that drastically during those 3months we were separate and I had no idea about it.....I'm not sure if I could watch it happen before my eyes. Cause then I would have to miss the way they were before, because of my attraction to their naturally mixed feminine/masculine looking features and actions. So, ideally I wouldn't have changed anything about them.

I don't wanna grow attached to a voice or a face or a body that will no longer be there tomorrow. I know that person before is still in there, but it's different when you're romantically attracted to them, been intimate with them vs when you're just a friend. My experience shocked and scared my paranoia and fear of change. I remember crying when my dad started growing white and grey hairs in his beard. Cause I never want my dad to change, cause I've grown up with him being this strong man that always was there for me, held me, made me feel safe, calmed me down when I had my moments, and tucked me in when I wanted to feel comfortable. He showed me that he always loved me, always cared about me, and that he was never gonna leave me. As if he's never gonna die during my time on this earth. Seeing his greyishly, white hairs, I thought death and that my daddy will soon no longer be the fun, happy, strong dad that I've always been with as his princess. And that's kind of what vibe this particular person was to me, even though they weren't as smart, strong, or always there for me....cause most of the time my nights alone cause they couldn't or didn't know I needed them to be there fo r me like that to feel loved or just to feel wanted. Cause I couldn't speak up.

But now, that they has turned into a he. I feel like its brutally denying me to chance to not only say goodbye to them as they, but I would have to get reacquainted to HE, with a totally different name, maybe different personality, maybe different sexuality, and I won't know if I like the new evolved version of this person. The fear of the unknown is high for me. Especially when there's a 40% rate of fems that decided to change their sexual orientation after taking testosterone. I 'm possessive about my partners and I would hate to know that after seeing this person physically change and go through so much emotional/mental changes that one day they decide "Hey, I think I like men now, I wanna give this a shot. Could we make this work?"

I would tell Him, to go right ahead and go on a date with that coworker or guy on Tinder/Grinder. But I'm not gonna be here when you come home. Because to me that's some bullshit. And I've known this person well enough to know, that they don't mind using other people to meet their sexual needs that I can't possibly give them due to my actual gender and my body as such. I wouldn't want to share my partner, nor watch them get fucked by another man...because I'm not a man, im a woman...theres a huuuuuugggeeee difference.

And if it ever came to that point 3 yrs later and He became someone I didn't know anymore, because of the hormones changing how they feel as a man, dysphoria gone....I get it, you've hated yourself for years and now you're happy in the dream body you always asked for. But, I would be scared to lose you, to whoever else you decide to open up to in your selections. Cause you're that type to leave to please you and not make it work. I don't want somebody who changes their mind all the time about who they wanna be, who else do they wanna smash, and who else they can flirt with. That's cheater mentality.

And I'm sorry trans community that I'm basing my recent experience with someone as the example for the rest of you. Because I know there are some ftm's who've already changed and stayed with their partners. I just don't know if I could trust this process, knowing the effects, the research on whether or not they become completely detached to women or become bisexual... I can't.

And I'm thankful for the ftm's that have been posting youtube videos and tiktoks for viewers like me who are curious about the possible cons, and physical or emotional changes they've overcome. I was shocked the first time I ever watched a bandaged ftm, who finally unrevealed their scars from top surgery. I've always been preparing myself for this. Because I knew one day, that this cute, fluffy, soft skinned, white latino looking, but really just mixed mocha, nonbinary person was gonna be...changed over a year or so. I thought I could prepare for it, so that when it does happen it doesn't hurt as much to watch to them in pain if the bleeding from the scars are irritating them or if one day they're super cranky and obnoxious for what seems to be no reason. Or if one day they end up feeling they dont need anybody like Zanthos, with the 4 avenger rings lol.

But I'm too damn fucking sensitive. I was born this way. I've always prepared myself with the worst and the best information, that way when it does happen, the tidal wave of emotions from the reaction, doesn't end up torching my soul or blowing me out the water. Cause I am gay. I adore women, men, and when I met this person I loved them as an in-betweener as nonbinary. They are so brutally harsh, twisted, manipulative, jealous, and possesive. But I've always liked that they had these emotions inside of them that they hold back because they don't wanna seem so soft, always hiding this feminine quality about them because ideally, they're pretty looking, gorgeous eyes that can turn black cold like obsidian, and those fucking cheeks and cat nose. I've only seen the slight hips, but I didn't mind it. And they've always hid their body away even when we would try to have sex. I knew the dysphoria was there, cause again I prepared myself to be patient and kind.

So, I'm glad they're turning a new leaf to make themselves feel more confident about being recognized in society as a full, grown ass man. I'm pretty sure HE, is gonna get cocky af, cause that's just the way he was when they were they.

I know it's selfish of me to say, but I'm afraid of what will happen down the line years later. But that's just me being afraid. If He ends up not liking me anymore, I know it won't be the end of the world and I walked away at the right time when I did. Because this person is currently separated from me, and I'm still insecure about that part too. Not knowing how they are during this transition for what may become years or not...I hope HE is doing okay and not piercing everyone with their new, world domination, ego.

I just don't wanna imagine them get fucked by a guy....sorry that's just me. And will their buttery ass kisses, still be as sweet anymore?

Will I be ok with HE having chest hair?

Will I love the sound of their new voice or will I just hate it, while still missing the old, brodie, sexy, slightly feminine voice?

Especially when they used to go all soft and cuddly on me over the phone, it was soooo cuteeee. I miss our phone and text conversations.

Will they grow into another relationship with somebody else because they started to become unattached and unattracted to my body, my tits, my hips, my vagina even....just because they completely changed their identity?

And I still a woman? I've only thought about wearing a binder a couple of times, and yes, I do watch ftm and trans porn because I did like the fantasy of being intimate with someone who had a bigger clit size or just having a big clit of my own that felt like a dick.

I'm willing to admit that. Because let's be honest, boys get away with so much more shit as a male, compared to us females.

I wish I could grow a dick overnight and nobody not know I'm still a chick! Lol, but I still don't like the all over hair body growth and I still want my vagina back. Like a rental suit with an actual dick and no tits. Those are the onllyyyyyyyyy things I've thought about, but would never admit out loud. Only because I still like my body and my gender identity as is. I feel like the blue girl from X-Men could get away with it, cause she can be anybody she wants to and go back to being herself at the end of the day. And still camouflage behind walls. Lucky chick. Especially if she could teleport, oh he'll yeah.

It's gonna take me awhile to get over this, so please be patient with me. As I'm trying not to cry as I watch my ftm porn get fucked by a guy. Cause I used to be heavy into it, now I feel wrong for watching it and then I'm reminded "40% chance, you're watching it" 😞🤮😫

[pastafarms]

I was tagged by @anarrowthroughtimesideblog (thank you for the tag!! ^w^ it was really unexpected bc hhh im so inactive here so this made me rly happy :D)

Rules: Tag 9 people you’d like to know better or catch up to!

Last song: Kara kara kara by Kikuo!

Last movie: Hmm,,, tenet? cool concept but i wasnt fully engaged :(( It reminded me of zero escape tho, which i loveeeeeeeeeee so much!!!

Currently watching: Ensemble stars (dubbed JSHGJSHG) so I can multitask while watching hehe :D

Currently reading: Red, White and Royal blue-- Im trying to get back into reading but it’s really hard picking up genres I don’t usually read so. Sticking to my comfort zone of lgbtq+ romance i guess?

Current project: to Keep up with animation homework, work and get some fanart out when I feel like it ^^ i was trying to animate one moment from my week each week but like,,, im already animating for class and it becomes too much. Need to rest my wrist lol. Im also trying to get back into video editing! so yeah!!! 

Current mood: I’m eating lunch and missing being part of online communities (i took a break and deactivated some accs bc it got too much but I do miss it as well >_<)

Current wish: To participate online more with less anxiety, I stopped talking about things on the internet bc;;; scary lol;; it helped me get closer to irl friends but i really need both forms of interaction i guess. I also hope I get back into playing gw2 bc I realllllly miss the way it inspired me but as a player I felt really stuck (ive also been taking a break from gw2! whoops, forgot to mention that)

Currently learning: Animation! its funn :^) also trying to take better care of my wrist bc it gets sore a lot. And trying to be less self conscious about sharing online + sharing pictures of myself

Something that makes you proud: That I’m able to disconnect from the internet and feel ok, I’m feeling more fulfilled in some friendships and with family, and that im just trying to keep my head up honestly lol. Also exercising without guilting myself!! Im doing great @ being myself haha :^)

Tagging: @the-mystic-dragon , @myukuw , @zvezdacito 

and anyone else who wants to do it!!​ 

[theycallmegothboy]

1-100 >:DDDD REVENGE!!!

FELIXXXXXXXXXXXX >:(( 1. Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora?  -spotify  2. is your room messy or clean? -it’s pretty messy i guess  3. what color are your eyes? -blue and grey

4. do you like your name? why? -yeah it’s fine 5. what is your relationship status? -single 6. describe your personality in 3 words or less -certified intrusive thot 7. what color hair do you have? -brown and rn it’s red 8. what kind of car do you drive? color? -i dont have a car 9. where do you shop? -hot topic, goodwill, target 10. how would you describe your style? -comfy emo 11. favorite social media account -of mine, probably discord or youtube 12. what size bed do you have? -twin >:(( 13. any siblings? -i have 1.5 brothers  14. if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? -probably vancouver, idk canada seems lit 15. favorite snapchat filter? -i like the one with devil horns and a tail but its cute 16. favorite makeup brand(s) -i dont wear makeup 17. how many times a week do you shower? -i used to shower every day, but i dont do anything that gets me dirty so like maybe 3 times but if i leave the house then i shower 18. favorite tv show? -stranger things 19. shoe size?  -8 or 9 20. how tall are you? -5′6 with shoes >:(( 21. sandals or sneakers? -sneakers wtf 22. do you go to the gym? -lol no 23. describe your dream date -making some pie or something together and then eating the pie and then sitting on some rooftop looking at stars 24. how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? -quite a bit actually but i’m saving up for a phone lol so soon it will be like maybe 10 dollars lmao 25. what color socks are you wearing? -not wearing socks but the ones i had earlier were white (ankle length) 26. how many pillows do you sleep with? -just one but it sucks 27. do you have a job? what do you do? -NO BUT IM TRYING TO GET A JOB BUT THE FUCKIN PEOPLE THERE ARE GHOSTING ME AND WONT REPLY TO MY EMAILS SO LIKE SBJHBJS 28. how many friends do you have? -like 4 lmao 29. whats the worst thing you have ever done? -idk nothing super bad but i do a lot of small shit that makes me feel guilty when i realize what i did 30. whats your favorite candle scent? -juniper rosewood 31. 3 favorite boy names -leo, clay, charlie 32. 3 favorite girl names -ivy, uh... idk thats all ive got 33. favorite actor? -no clue 34. favorite actress? -no clue 35. who is your celebrity crush? -not a celeb but i’d smash danny phantom 36. favorite movie? -nightmare before christmas or edward scissorhands 37. do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? -no, but my fav book is probably the prince and the pauper? idk 38. money or brains? -CASH MONEYYYY jk probably brains but if your entire personality is being “smart” like fuck off lmao   39. do you have a nickname? what is it? - a bunch of people call me son (see #49, #100), some call me rat, dumdum, goth boy

40.how many times have you been to the hospital? -just once i think when i was birthed. i also went once with my brother cause he kicked some scissors i left out on the floor and it sliced his toe the fuck open and he needed stitches and i watched him get the stitches and almost passed out :/ 41. top 10 favorite songs -please dont make me do this i dont have it in me 42. do you take any medications daily? -yea i take 20mg of vyvanse but i need to get it raised to 30 cause 20 is Not Enough 43. what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc) -i got some dry fuckin skin yall dont even know 44. what is your biggest fear?  -it depends. the dark is a pretty constant one though 45. how many kids do you want? -like 2 or 3 eventually 46. whats your go to hair style? -in my face, looking stupid 47. what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc)  -it’s pretty small 48. who is your role model? -i dont fuckin know lmao  49. what was the last compliment you received? - “i belive in you, my son, you’re an amazing human being“ (same friend mentioned in #100, not actually a parent of mine) 50. what was the last text you sent? -”no it’s a raccoon“ YOU GET NO CONTEXT LMAO 51. how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? -i dont think i ever hardcore believed in him, maybe i did though i remember sleeping under the tree one christmas eve waiting for him but i was like “oh yeah that makes sense“ i guess 52. what is your dream car?  -i honestly dont give a shit as long as it actually fucking works 53. opinion on smoking? -cigarettes? fuck no that’s nastyyy. weed? that’s fine i guess but wait till you’re like 18.  54. do you go to college? -no. am sophomore n highschool 55. what is your dream job?  -musician/palentologist 56. would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs?  -fuck the suburbs lmao, but also im tired of rural, so like.. semi urban?? 57. do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels?  -no but i take the little soaps >:)) 58. do you have freckles?  -yes 59. do you smile for pictures? -awkwardly, yes 60. how many pictures do you have on your phone?  -dont have a phone but i have like 12 on my computer currently. 4 are of me, the rest are of my cat or random shit 61. have you ever peed in the woods?  -yes 62. do you still watch cartoons?  -cartoons these days kinda suck but like if they were good fuck yeah i would like gravity falls can come hang yknow? 63. do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds? -i had nuggets from mcdonalds today so i guess them? i dont really care 64. Favorite dipping sauce?  -i got sweet and sour but i dont like it that much. that schezuan sauce was great 65. what do you wear to bed?  -wouldnt you like to know? ;))  66. have you ever won a spelling bee?  -NO ive only been in two. the first one i misspelled the word “turmoil“ cause i had never heard it before and the second one i spelled the word “owed“ as “ode“ cause i was thinking like ode to joy and then i felt like a big Fool afterwards :(( 67. what are your hobbies? -lol what hobbies 68. can you draw?  -i am physically able to draw, but not well, no 69 (haha). do you play an instrument? -yeah i play a few 70. what was the last concert you saw?  -i saw Chicago in either georgia or tennessee i cant remember in like 2016 71. tea or coffee? -hot coffee, iced tea. NOT the other way around. (i love both though) 72. Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? -starbucks 73. do you want to get married? -sure why not 74. what is your crush’s first and last initial? -dont have a crush 75. are you going to change your last name when you get married?  -idk maybe 76. what color looks best on you?  -i dont know but i wear black a lot and that’s pretty dope 77. do you miss anyone right now? -yeah  78. do you sleep with your door open or closed? -closed 79. do you believe in ghosts? -on the fence. not 100% “oh my god look at these gHoSt oRbS i need to sage my house!!!“ but i accept that there’s some things i wont understand about the world and that i have no answers to. i wouldnt be surprised if there are, and i wouldnt be surprised if there aren’t. 80. what is your biggest pet peeve? -whatever my adhd decides i viscerally hate with a firey passion right at that moment  81. last person you called -my brother (the 1 of the 1.5 from #13 and the one who sliced his toe in #40) 82. favorite ice cream flavor?  -chocolate is dope 83. regular oreos or golden oreos?  -regular double stuff. if you say golden, mint, peppermint, or thin oreos i’m gonna have to euthanize you, i dont make the rules.  84. chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? -rainbow cause it’s prettier  85. what shirt are you wearing?  -queen shirt from hot topic 86. what is your phone background? -i didnt get a phone between question 60 and now but my computer one is some mountains with the moon in the background 87. are you outgoing or shy? -really depends on who i’m around 88. do you like it when people play with your hair? -YES FUCK AAAAAAA (this girl played with my hair literally once in middle school and i was like oh shit and i had a crush on her until the end of middle school true story,,, so ashley if you’re out there-) 89. do you like your neighbors? -to the left they’re fine and their dog is nice but idk what happened to the horses so that’s sus but that’s where our cat came from so they can hang  guess, behind me they’re fine but their boys are loud, to the right they’re fine, and even further to the right are the dope neighbors and waaaaaaaaaay far to the right is a llama and he’s dope as hell 90. do you wash your face? at night? in the morning? -whenever the fuck i remember to/have the energy 91. have you ever been high?  -i dont think so but i wouldnt put it past myself 92. have you ever been drunk?  -not that i can remember, no 93. last thing you ate?  -sloppy joe from a can 94. favorite lyrics right now -”not gonna waste my life, cause i’ve been fucked up“ 95. summer or winter?  -fall. fuck you 96. day or night?  -night but i like it when it’s actually night and it doesnt get dark at like 4 fucking pm cause that makes me depressed 97. dark, milk, or white chocolate? -dark is good, milk is fine, white is only suitable for fancy stripes on chocolate covered strawberries 98. favorite month?  -i vibe with september 99. what is your zodiac sign -sagittarius (was almost a scorpio but i was holding out >:))) 100. who was the last person you cried in front of?  -in person, my mom like 6 months ago, on a discord call, my friend (i love you by the way, you’re the best,,, i dont think he has tumblr but im just putting it out there) like a month or so ago. i hate crying in front of people, i turn into such a hyperventilating snot monster which is not suitable for human gaze and thats the real tea :/

felix this took like 2 hours of my life i will never get back i hate you and i hope you’re happy with what you’ve done <3 <3

also anyone who wants to stalk me, enjoy this information that im handing to you on a silver platter :)) <3

[confessinbouthanson]

“ an open letter to everyone about zac

i just found out about this a few days ago, i have looked at the twitter account that posted screenshots, i have been to the reddit. and i feel like i must still be missing something? nowhere did i see anything like  f**k n******s /jews/trans people ect. i saw a lot of republican support and gun humor…that were posted on his PRIVATE ACCOUNTS .         there WILL be people in this world who do out and do and say things that offend YOU. be an adult and move on. dont stalk, shame, harass or start an online rampage on 3 websites causing the person involved to turn off comments and his wife to straight up leave. who do YOU people think you are? you think you have the right to do that because youve been a ‘fan’ since '97 so your entitled to bash him?   because hes a celebrity? hes  still human he has the right to privacy and makes mistakes.if your so offended they didnt post blm or anything like that guess what alot of other celebrities and bands didnt eaither. some people dont want to post anything about it because its very controversial and last i checked hanson is not about contravercy. zac stated the bitter truth him posting blm will not stop it from happening again, just like celebrities donating money wont stop it. the way this generation of kids are raised will and so will changing laws .thats it.          he didnt makes those memes he reposted them. they have been on the internet forever alot of other people reposted them too. again most of what i saw was gun humor and republican support ect.  not for everyone. some people are die hard republicans and will vote for the candidate   JUST because they want their party to win, does not matter who it is or what they stand for. you cant just say oh hes a trump supporter so hes racist. you sound so ignorant. people want to twist things and make things much bigger than they are.if i missed a post saying n******rs and je*s /tans gays ect suck and need to die or anything along those lines please share id love to see. and all of you saying how can kate put up with him ect and how their first few years were shaky, post proof of that too.  how the hell would you know what goes on behind closed doors?do you live with them?  even if they did have a rough start, every relationship has growing pains esp when you are young.    everyone who is a 'fanson’ should already know   blues, jazz motown-mostly black artists were huge influence on hanson. they have worked with many black aritsts.  just like anyone who is a 'fanson’ should know they  are DEVOUT greek  orthodox christians. ie: very very oldschool stream of Christianity that follows the OLD testiment, basic Christianity follows the new testimate ie: living through the example of jesus , jesus loves everyone gay straight black white ect  look into it, the believes ect. its their right to live that way if thats what they choose to do, alot of religions do look down on gays trans ect and truely belive you will go to hell for it    because the way  the testimate is written and translated. very duggar esq. some strains of that dont even allow the women to wear pants  and you can only eat certain foods on certain days ect.  again if thats his beliefs thats his beliefs.not everyone supports those lifestyles just because the internet popularized them. hell mainstream tv was sill making stereotype jokes about gays up until like 6 years ago. i saw no uproar online about celebrities that follow kabballah (the red bracelets) no half of you dont even know what that REALLY is,  no you just wear the bracelet because its trendy and your fav celeb  wears it.  im  not even gonna sit here and be all like 'well he is from oklahoma and alot of people are biggots there'  because guess what? its like that everywhere. ive lived all over the country and it is like that in small towns and large citys. north south east west. and kate posting things on her ig about not supporting planned parenthood,  well although they do offer many medical services they also preform abortions.  again religious  and republican people have a very big issue with that. and shes from ga so maybe she had family that were confederate soldiers which is why she said save the flag.                               im not saying this is right or not disgusting, im saying there are all kinds of people in the world and you CAN NOT hate, harass, bully ect someone because they dont believe the same stuff you do. it does not matter they are a celebrity   dont even go there with them having a 'responsibility’ the ONLY thing they are responsible for is what made them famous-making music. you guys went out of your way to stalk him and invade his privacy, you had a certain image of him in your minds and put him on a pedestal and when he proved it to be wrong, now your pissed off. you all need to grow the fuck up. what are you gonna go through life bashing everyone that does not  drop their beliefs for whats socially popular? posting memes does not mean hes a straight up ass in person to people that are black, gay, trans, fat ect. actions speak louder than words. i dont care for the movie american hisotry x  because most of it is very racist and violent, but the MESSAGE of the movie  shows that a person can be involved in a group, live a certain way, believe certain things to the point where the inflict DEATH on someone and tattoo their entire body with racist tattoos,  but then change  their lives and be remorseful once they break free. its like a drug addict. if you hang around the same group of people, do not change your contact info, no matter how hard your desperately want to get sober, you wont. because you need to change your lifestyle . it is absolutely no secret that walker and diana dictate all those kids lives, everything about them, including who they married. the guys and the girls. walker worked with natalies  family member, not directly but they were contacts, they met  they had similar  beliefes, and had $$$$$  kates family also has $$$$$$  so does everyone elce that married into that family . unless your rich and have similar lifestyle you never had a chance girls. youd have to be preapproved by mom and dad. dont you think its odd zac never had a girlfriend that was  the friend of one of his brothers? marrion , kate and another girl who im not even gonna mention because honestly none of you know who she is anyway lol.

it takes all kinds of people in this world. if you like their music you like their music. half the celebrities musicians youlook up to and admire have EXTREMELY different lives behind closed doors and because you dont know about it its fine.  what they do at the end of the day  in private is up to them . just like what you do is up to you are you people prefect? i doubt it.”

[ruiyuki-archives]

bnha + tdmm gundam AU

This is an AU I wrote on the todomomo discord server eons ago. Anything posted to this blog will be transcripts of old original work and not really edited, save for formatting. I have no guarantees if I will ever finish these AUs either so these will only be kept as an archive.

Heavily inspired by Gundam SEED/Destiny

Original transcript posted to tdmm discord: Aug 2018

BNHA MECHA/MILITARY/GUNDAM AU??? FT. TDMM + OTHERS.

JUST HEAR ME OUT OK:

idk when this is set but some sci-fi au where earth is at war w some enemy people and the military uses mechs

U.A. aka United Alliance is the military organization in charge of Earth's mechs

decades ago for idk.. WW III or something, pilots enlisted in U.A. piloting giant mechs (aka H.E.R.O.S. - “high efficiency robotic operating systems”) became protectors of citizens?? some shit like that.

the top pilots made a name for themselves were namely Toshinori Yagi piloting the TPHR-ALL MIGHT at #1 and #2 Todoroki Enji piloting the FLHR-ENDEAVOR

(Bonus: TPHR for "The People's HERO" and FLHR for, you guessed it, "Flame HERO" woooo)

but during the final mecha fight that subsequently ended WW III, Toshinori Yagi was declared MIA bc his mech crash landed on some coastal shore and by the time they found ALL MIGHT, the cockpit was empty and the pilot was gone

anyway fast forward >> U.A. has a cadet school and low and behold who do we find enrolled,,, aspiring young pilots Midoriya Izuku and Bakugou Katsuki

they both heard the heroic stories of pilot Toshinori and ALL MIGHT and woooo got into U.A.

also in U.A. ofc is Todoroki Shouto whos been groomed to be a mecha pilot since age 5 courtesy of Enji. D u h. (Enji's still piloting ENDEAVOR at this time but has it pretty set that Shouto will inherit piloting his mech)

aaand ofc we get the rest of class 1A in U.A. cadet school for various reasons

ANYWAY im not going into cadet school days bc thats boring but lets say ofc top of the class pilots are Izuku Bakugou and Todoroki that aces all the flight simulations blah blah blah

Also Toshinori was found to be declared MIA to the public but actually whoop. He's at U.A. as one of the boardmembers bc ofc that’s how im making the story work. Idk he was too injured and has too much ptsd that he cant pilot anymore and is looking for the next pilot to inherit ALL MIGHT (which is fixed up by now)

NOW INTO THE ACTUAL MEAT OF THE STORY - NEW WAR (WW4? I GUESS)

CADET KIDS ARE NO LONGER CADETS. THEYRE FULL FLEDGED PILOTS NOW AND ARE THROWN INTO THE NEXT WAR BC THAT WAS PART OF WHAT THEY SIGNED UP FOR. Whos the enemy? LoV ofc but i dont have a cool name for them yet LMAOOOO

K SO new war. New battle cruisers. New mechs yayayya

U.A. has 2 new battle cruisers: Sirius A and Sirius B, designated (1-A and 1-B DUH)and duh, the crew of 1-A and 1-B is gonna be classes respectively

1-A, Aizawa is captain of the ship LMAOOOO Momo's the crew's battle analyst on comms + nav, Iida takes the helm, idk whos gonna be on weaponry yet but I kinda wanna make it Tokoyami

Izuku Bakugou and Todoroki are mecha pilots ofc

they have custom made mechs that were made for them for mostly training so the models are pretty basic compared to ALL MIGHT and ENDEAVOR but eh they do the job.

I'm doing the hero name thing again so Izuku pilots OAHR-DEKU, Todo pilots HCHR-SHOUTO and Bakugou pilots.... EXHR-K.E.KILL

bc they’re custom they got to name the mechs so friggin Bakugou. I tried LMAO (if someone can guess the acronyms, bonus points)

also hey! they have a squadron of fighter jet pilots and hey! Its the Bakusquad!!!

each of the fighters have their own names too so you guessed it, their hero namessss ha..ha..ha..ha..

OKAY more people: Hatsume Mei's their engineer. She basically built the mechs and works under Powerloader that built the cruiser ships

Gran Torino built the fighter jets lol

uhh Tsuyu's probably the crew's nurse in the infirmary or smth. Chiyo is the head military doctor back at the U.A. base??? idk

Nedzu head of U.A. Self explanatory.

Fuyumi and Natsuo are there too!!! Fuyumi's part of the cadet teaching staff. Natsuo's a fighter pilot of another fleet

Anyway, TODOMOMO IN THIS AU

they met in cadet training. Momo was working towards being an analyst anyway so naturally they paired up for training exercises as comm + pilot top of the class. Aizawa's first choices when choosing who to enlist in for the 1-A crew

every time Shouto deploys for a fight Momo's hypervigilant in keeping tabs on him in the air bc honestly the worst is seeing a laserbeam aiming for his mech's cockpit

I mean she keeps tabs on Deku and Bakugou too but. y’know she has a bias loool

and god forbid if anything were to happen to Shouto bc the worse would be for him to be MIA or KIA bc this is a war. People lose their lives. She knows its what they signed up for but if she can help him avoid it, she will

but sometimes it cant be helped. Especially since she’s navigating for the other pilots and the ship

it doesn’t help that Shouto's kinda reckless in his mech fights when they get too intense. sometimes he'll ignore his comms all together and when he does that half the time he comes out of his cockpit injured bc nuclear explosions. Recoil. Life threatening occupational hazard. D u h

Momo's basically crying by his bedside in the infirmary every time that happens

and THE ONE INSTANCE WHERE HE IS OFFICIALLY DECLARED MIA, Momo loses it

bc its his fight against the enemy mech CRHR-DABI. Its in the midst of the enemy's unexpected assault. and the 1A and 1B are taking heavy fire. So she has to focus on Aizawa's orders. and Shouto is getting out range that she cant keep tabs on him. and he's ignoring her comms. so by the end of it, by the time the enemy ships and mechs retreat, HCHR-SHOUTO is g o n e

the dust clears up. Its raining. The fighting's stopped. All of the enemy forces has retreated so U.A. calls their pilots to retreat

2 of their 3 mechs have returned to the ship except for SHOUTO. And Momo's frantically trying to get through to him. But nothing.

Aizawa orders her to stop trying. they'll send out a search team to investigate his last known location after everyone rests. Repairs to 1A and the mechs need to be made. They have to make haste, but for now, rest.

all the logistical post-battle crap is cared for first. Status reports, repair agenda, the next battle plan. The search team is sent out.

nothing.

they keep looking.

nothing for days.

keep looking.

they find it. HCHR-SHOUTO in a lake torn to shambles. The cockpit cut open. Blood stains trail out toward the forest it crashed in but no pilot nearby. (Bc hell ya im gonna recycle tropes loool)

Todoroki Shouto declared missing in action.

Momo gets the update and she’s devastated

but theres no time to mourn. A second enemy attack.

the Orion fleet is called in. ENDEAVOR's fleet.

and there he is. that mech. CRHR-DABI. again.

DABI VS ENDEAVOR wooooooooooooo

but this time its nearby the city. Civilians need to be evacuated. WGHR-HAWKS assists in protecting the city as much as possible.

but yup ENDEAVOR gets destroyed too. Enji comes out of his cockpit in critical condition. and the enemy retreats again.

more aftermath. More repairing, more strategies, more recovering the injured. Its a war after all.

U.A. works on building a new mech. ENDEAVOR #2. But Enji has to officially retire from piloting due to his head injury.

and his successor is missing.

there is no pilot.

that is until Shouto shows up again!!!!

he has new scar on the left side of his face.

he saw ENDEAVOR's fight.

he’s alive. He’s come back. And he's out to take down DABI.and you bet he made his dramatic reappearance like:

Aizawa, at a battle meeting with Momo, Nedzu, Toshinori and other UA officials: "Tell me Nedzu. what choices do we have? Enji is compromised. His successor is missing. We're out of pilots. Who’s going to pilot the second ENDEAVOR?"

Todo, walking casually through the door: "I will."

After thoughts:

hi yes pls imagine all the pilots in skin tight pilot suits and helmets bc HAHAHHAA NGL THAT WAS THE 5% MOTIVATION OF ME COMING UP WITH THIS AU 👀

also momo in a military uniform 👀

the mechs look like their hero uniforms. OAHR-DEKU is green & white in colour. EXHR-K.E.KILL is black & orange. HCHR-SHOUTO is red blue silver.

TPHR-ALL MIGHT is gold & royal blue. FLHR-ENDEAVOR is blue red and orange.

CRHR-DABI is grey and purple and is piloted by Touya who else would it be

the fleet that i said Natsuo was a part of is the Orion fleet.. Enji's fleet

now that I think about it, Aoyama is probably the designer behind the pilot suits

Shouto names the 2nd ENDEAVOR mech HCHR-REI after his mom

his mom is a civilian and is very much alive kthx Im not pulling some EVA shit here ok

> bonus tdmm mecha NSFW

> archives masterpost