#kit young in a skirt

[achildfullofwoe]

Kit Young and his kilt

[supercalime]

Whoever’s decision was to have Jesper wear a skirt from episode 5 onward deserves a raise

[thyblake]

No thoughts, head empty, just thinking about Jesper in a skirt.

[judebelle]

Can I request Gavi? Xavi is y/n uncle and her and Gavi are a new couple; and they’re still at the shyness stage of dating. So y/n go into the locker room to talk to her uncle and the team is poking at Gavi to go hug or kiss his girlfriend.

perfect - p.g. x reader

a/n : this is so middle school crush coded i love it

cw : nothing this is just fluff lol

wc : 1.1k

pairing : pablo gavi x fem!reader

---

you were sat in the vip section of a barcelona match. since your uncle was the manager, you got to sit up here and knew most of the players personally. some of them probably felt forced to interact with you since your uncle was their boss, but you didn't mind the thought of it.

one particular boy took a special liking to you around a month ago.

you and pablo had started talking more and he ended up asking you to be his girlfriend after a practice you had visited.

you two didn't get to see each other as nearly as you had wanted, partly because of pablo's busy schedule, and partly because you were both still very... awkward around each other.

although not seeing each other often, you two went on a few dates which were.. let's just say interesting.

during your first dinner date, pablo accidentally spilled a bit of water on your lap while trying to show you the missing button on his sleeve. you both ended up laughing it off, but you could tell he was embarrassed.

or when you two would walk together, your hands would occasionally brush against each other, urging some blushes and hesitant smiles.

pablo would fumble with his words whenever he tried to give you a compliment.

"your dress looks um.. you look really.. good, er- beautiful, or pretty, whatever you prefer."

you saw it as a cute innocence. you didn't mind having to wipe water off your skirt if you got to see that pink fluster creep up his cheeks every now and then.

you were shaken out of your thoughts as you heard cheers erupt from around you. joao felix had just scored the opener against antwerp on his debut. you stood up and cheered. you didn't know him too well yet, but him and pablo seemed to be hitting it off on the field.

some time passed, and the score was 3-0, one an own goal, and two from joao. you paid close attention to the game now, waiting for pablo to score. you had a feeling he would, and you didnt want to miss it.

once he actually scored, you couldn't contain your excitement, clapping and cheering for him with genuine enthusiasm. caught up in the moment, pablo shyly pointed towards you in the stands, and his face lit up with a proud smile at the sight of your applause. he sends a heart your way, making yours skip a beat.

pablo's teammates playfully teased him about his new romance, finding it cute to see two young people so smitten with each other.

the whistle blew, signalling the end of the game. you stood from your seat, grabbed your phone and lipgloss, applying as you walked down the stairs. you made your way to the tunnel to talk to your uncle and congratulate the team, specifically a special brown haired boy.

you didn’t see him around, so you waited for a bit, but grew impatient. you walked towards the locker room and pushed a knock against the door. “it’s me!” you called out, like usual.

the boys called out jumbled words, but you could make out your uncle’s “come in”. you pushed open the door to see him talking to the boys in the locker room, all still dressed in their kits. they drank water and listened to him intently.

he was going on about some new playing methods and strategies but also included how he was proud of their win. he sent the joao’s a smile and the locker room erupted in cheers. water was splashed around and they got some pats on the back. you congratulated them with a smile and turned to your uncle.

“congratulations, the team did well, courtesy of you, of course.” you flashed xavi a toothy grin and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

he smiled back and ruffled the hair you just fixed, earning a whine from you. “thank you, princesa. means a lot coming from someone like you.” he winked sarcastically before pressing a kiss to your forehead. you smiled softly at the gesture.

“so, i was wondering if-“ your words were cut off by hushed whispers and giggles coming from over xavi’s shoulder. you peered over to see jules poking pablo’s rib. pablo smacked his hand away in embarrassment before pedro made a kissing sound at him.

“stop, stop it!” pablo whisper shouted, a tinge of red creeping up his neck. fermin snuck up behind pablo and whispered to him in his ear before ushering him forward. “go say hi, she’s waitinggg!”

“seriously, can you guys not?!”

“oh come on, go give her a hug, lover boy” alejandro had joined in on the games too, messing pablo’s hair up before nudging pedro. “bro, look at how red his face is!” they both laughed at pablo who looked like steam was about to erupt from his ears.

his lips were caught in a pout, his fists balled up, and he was doing everything in his power not to look your way.

eventually, almost the whole squad had joined in on the teasing, pushing pablo towards you. xavi had moved to the side at this point, a admiring smirk playing on his lips as he watched an embarrassed pablo being shoved towards you.

you stood there awkwardly until you finally met face to face. he gulped nervously.

“hi..” he looked as if he’d just seen a ghost.

“hi?” your eyebrows furrowed at his widened eyes. after a few seconds of silence, you spoke again.

“congratulations, you played well.”

you sent him a soft smile so contagious he caught one too. “really?” it almost sounded as if he didn’t believe your words.

“your, um- your goal was my favourite..” you bit your lip and looked up at pablo through your eyelashes.

he was about to respond until a chant echoed through the room.

“hug! hug! hug! hug! hug!”

you felt the familiar heat rise up from your ears and saw an almost identical reflection on pablo’s face.

an apologetic smile snuck its way onto his face before he whispered out,

“may i?”

you couldn’t help but giggle before you opened your arms, ready for his embrace. your bodies connected and you nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck. you fit together so perfectly. his hands were unsure at first, but slowly secured around your waist, yours wrapped around his neck.

the room erupted in cheers and applause, some shouting out “aww” and “oooh”. you couldn’t help but laugh into pablo’s shoulder.

oh how perfect this felt.

[unahsims]

MEET MY SIMS: MATTIE KA

young adult / britechester art history grad / style influencer / san myshuno

serial romantic / cat lover, creative, geek, music lover perfectionist

thank you to all cc creators!!

i might come back and link specifically or add makeup/genetics but im lazy sorry. feel free to drop a wcif!

everyday:

look 1: @arethabee earrings, @serenity-cc ascot, @sentate dress, BG bracelets, @jius-sims sandals look 2: @okruee earrings, @casteru outfit, @trillyke leg warmers, @liliili-sims4 sneakers look 3: @bedisfull earrings, @okruee blouse, @ridgeport skirt, @jius-sims heels

formal:

look 1: growing together earrings, @arethabee necklace, @mellosakicc dress, @serenity-cc heels look 2: @simstrouble earrings, @serenity-cc dress, @jius-sims heels look 3: @frenchiesimgirl earrings, @oydis necklace, @dissiasims dress, vintage glamor & @arethabee bracelets, @jius-sims heels

athletic:

look 1: @pralinesims headphones, growing together top, @sforzcc watch, @aharris00britney shorts, incheon arrivals sneakers look 2: @greenllamas top and bottoms, @liliili-sims4 sneakers look 3: @boonstoww top, @aharris00britney shorts

pajamas:

look 1: @madlensims lingerie, @joliebean gloves look 2: blacklilysims top, grunge revival scrunchie, nifty knitting socks, @pinkpatchy slippers look 3: @serenity-cc nightgown, @adrienpastel-blog undershirt, nifty knitting socks, @pinkpatchy slipper

party:

look 1: @alexaarr earrings, @boonstoww dress, @jius-sims heels look 2: @twisted-cat top, @waekey mesh top, @arethabee bracelets, @trillyke waist chain, @marsmerizing-sims pants look 3: @ridgeport top, grunge revival kit and @arethabee bracelets, @aharris00britney skirt, @jius-sims heels

swimwear:

look 1: @phsims swimsuit, @yooniesim bellybutton piercing look 2: @madlensims swinsuit, @yooniesim bellybutton piercing, @pralinesims sunglasses look 3: @trillyke swimsuit, @pickypikachu bellybutton piercing

hot weather:

look 1: @joliebean dress, @arethabee bracelets and necklace, @jius-sims heels look 2: @pralinesims sunglasses, @serenity-cc top, @arethabee bracelets and necklace, @twisted-cat jeans, @jius-sims heels look 3: @trillyke top, @nsves skirt, @serenity-cc slides

cold weather:

look 1: @aharris00britney earmuffs, @serenity-cc top, @dyoreos skirt, @serenity-cc boots look 2: @serenity-cc coat, @liliili-sims4 scarf, @dyoreos skirt, @serenity-cc boots look 3: @aharris00britney earmuffs, @behemoththings sweater, @sforzcc turtleneck, @marsmerizing-sims pants, @serenity-cc boots

[jinkoh]

fixing fate's mistake

sangyeon x reader

part of my soulmate series

summary: why is it that the one who comes to save you is never your soulmate but his older brother instead?

tags: soulmate au (sharing bruises), smut - mdni, childhood friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, small age gap (Sang is 3yrs older), slightly possessive!sangyeon (but he is mostly a softie), car activities, oral (r!receiving), strength play(?), lots of consent, loosely implied virgin!reader; warnings: light injuries and mentions of blood, reader is being picked up/carried, no pronouns but reader has a vagina and wears a skirt

wc: 2.9k

a/n: this wasn't meant to include sexy times but then i felt like the vibes were there so here we are i guess i'm a smut writer now 🤷🏻‍♀️

series masterlist | tbz masterlist

As you were sitting in the cold, moist grass at the side of the road, the sun long disappeared behind the horizon, your knees bloody and your ankle twisted, you wished that there was a way to start over. It would be great if life worked like a video game, letting you return to a saving point if you messed up. Maybe you’d return back to this morning and make sure to charge your phone properly. Or maybe this afternoon so you could take the bus and leave your bike on campus. But even more likely, you would go all the way back to that one day in elementary school, when you’d been at the playground with the two boys living next door. 

Even now, roughly 12 years later, you remembered it very clearly. You’d been on the swing, laughing brightly as you told them to look how high you could go. Sangyeon, the older one, told you to be careful, but you didn’t listen because all that mattered was the wish to impress him. Maybe it was because he was three years older, but at the time he was the coolest person in the world to you. He was nice and strong and really good at catching bugs. His younger brother who was the same age as you wasn’t half as interesting, but that was fine because he wasn’t interested in you either. He focused on his sand castle instead. You only got his attention when you fell, busting your knees open in the rough sand. The pain made tears spring to your eyes. Sangyeon immediately came over, a worried frown on his face. He’d probably felt responsible as the oldest. His brother on the other hand just gave you a dirty look as he got up from where he was sitting in the sandbox, dusting off his knees.

“You’re so stupid,” he said. But you didn’t mind. Your tears and pain were forgotten too, because all you saw were the bruises on his knees. You were overjoyed. You had a soulmate! Sure, it wasn’t the person you would have wanted it to be, but you were convinced you could make it work. The important part was that you had a soulmate, something you’d been dreaming of your whole (admittedly young) life. 

He didn’t feel the same way. While you were happy about it all, excited whenever a bruise of either of you showed up on the other’s skin, he seemed to hate the idea of being your soulmate. He’d been cold to you before, but from the moment you found out, he made a point of being mean. Looking back, you should have just given up then. Maybe things would have been different if you’d given him room. Maybe he wouldn’t have come to hate you to this extent. And then maybe he would have come to help you now. But giving up hadn't been an option to you back then. You’d been a kid fueled by the idea that he’d fall for you if you just kept trying. After all, you were soulmates. 

When you were in 5th grade, you fell down the swings again and broke your arm. You were crying and miserable and all alone, but it didn’t take long for your mom and Sangyeon to show up, first-aid kit ready. Your mom scolded your for not being careful and for going all by yourself, and that it was only thanks to the bruises on your soulmate’s skin that they came so quickly. Of course, you’d thought to yourself, he saw them and got worried about it, so he told mom. And that sparked hope within you. You completely ignored that he didn’t even bother to show up himself and clung to the  hope that he actually cared. It also made you come to a very stupid conclusion: He would pay attention to you if you got hurt. So you fell and you stumbled and you bumped into things, all to get a little bit of his attention. It didn’t work. Of course it didn’t. It just made him despise you more and more, disgusted with your clingy behavior and the way you kept engraving all these marks into his skin, even if they weren't permanent. You regretted it now. If you could take it all back, undo every stupid bruise you’d bothered him with, you would. But there were no saving points in life that you could just go back to. Right now, there was only the moist grass and your scraped skin and the knowledge that no one would come to help you. Your soulmate must have seen the bruises by now and surely he was smart enough to connect the dots and realize that you had an accident on your way home. But he wouldn’t care. It wasn’t any of his business if you were hurt or not, aside from the fact that it stained his skin.

You wrapped your arms around your body, shivering from the cold seeping into your aching bones. You knew you had to get up and walk the rest of the way home. Maybe you could lean onto your bicycle to take some weight off the strained ankle. It seemed possible. But you just felt so miserable and alone, and your body was refusing to move. You buried your face behind your knees, letting yourself cry because there wasn’t anyone around to see. Except, you suddenly felt the headlights of a car on you, bright and white. The car was going slow, way too slow for a street like this, almost as if the driver was looking for something. The moment you saw the familiar license plate, you realized that something must be you. The car pulled over just a few meters away from you and Sangyeon got out, quickly jogging over. The second you saw his face, a new wave of tears welled up in your eyes. It seemed like he always knew when to show up to save you. He crouched down in front of you, cupping your face with a worried frown.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t know how to meet his genuine gaze, so you looked away and gave him a small shrug.

“What happened?” His thumb gently brushed some of your tears away. 

“I fell,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling like a child again with the way he took care of you.

“Can you walk? Just to the car?”

Your gaze fell to your knees and your ankle. You probably could walk, despite the injuries, especially with help, but your muscles felt frozen in place. You didn’t say anything.

Sangyeon huffed a small laugh. “Fine, then.” He hooked one arm under your knees and wrapped the other around your back, before he slowly stood up, carrying you back to the car princess style. He sat you down on the passenger seat with your legs out, and then got the first-aid kit from the back. It stung when he cleaned the wounds on your knees, but it wasn’t like it would hurt less if you complained, so you just watched in silence as he carefully tended to your wounds. He bandaged your ankle too, saying something about how he could give you a ride to the doctor’s if it didn’t get better by itself. You barely paid attention though, distracted by the feeling of his warm hands on your skin.

“Are you listening?” He looked up at you from where he was crouching in front of your legs.

“How did you know?” You asked instead of replying.

Sangyeon hesitated for a moment before he replied. “I saw the bruises on his knees when I came home.”

You nodded slowly, lips pressed together in a tight smile. "Was it the same back then?"

"Huh?"

"When I broke my arm and you came with my mom—it was never him who told her right? It was you, because you happened to see his marks."

Sangyeon didn’t say anything and that in itself was said enough. Of course your soulmate didn’t actually tell him, or anyone. Of course not. You hadn’t expected anything else, but somehow it still hurt. It wasn’t even about him as a person. It wasn’t like you were in love with him, so maybe it was silly to expect him to care. But letting go of that dream of a fated love coming true hurt and it hurt that you were stuck with a soulmate like him, when clearly it should have been someone else. 

New Tears sprung to your eyes and you tried to blink them away, but to no avail.

“Y/n,” Sangyeon started, his voice soft. But he didn’t go on, because what was there even to say?

You sniffed. “I used to want a soulmate so badly, I didn’t even care who it was. But now I feel like I’d rather have none." You let out a bitter laugh. "I’m sure he for one has always felt that way.” 

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true.” You paused for a moment, knowing what you were going to say next was probably best kept to yourself, but you felt too exhausted to care. “It should have been you instead. Why can’t it be you?”

Sangyeon’s eyes widened in surprise before he huffed an awkward laugh and busied himself with packing up the first-aid kit. “You don’t mean that.”

“Why? Would it be that bad if I did?”

“No,” he replied, momentarily pausing his hands, “but it’d get my hopes up.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, your mind unable to quite grasp the meaning of it. You wanted him to look at you, to see in his eyes that he was serious, but his gaze was still fixed on the kit. You lightly nudged his knee with your toes, trying to get his attention back and he finally raised his head.

“Get your hopes up, then,” you whispered and you saw him visibly swallow. He set aside the kit before standing up and leaning into your personal space, one hand propped against the frame of the car.

“Do you know what you’re saying?” His gaze was intense and you almost wanted to shy away, but you were scared he’d misinterpret it as rejection.

“Yes,” you said, your gaze briefly dropping to his lips, “I know perfectly. Fate made a mistake, so let’s fix it.”

“And you won’t change your mind?”

You shook your head. “I won’t.”

His hand came up to your cheek, smoothing over your skin before tilting your chin up. Your breathing hitched when he came closer, only inches keeping you apart. “Even if he came begging?”

“Even then.”

A satisfied smile spread on his face. “Good,” he mumbled, before letting his lips brush against yours, “because I don’t plan on handing you over after this.”

Maybe the back of his car at the side of a deserted road wasn’t the most romantic spot, but Sangyeon’s touch was so warm as he lowered you onto the seat that you didn’t mind. He kept a hand at the back of your head, making sure you didn’t bump it on the car door. And then he settled between your legs, careful about your bruises and injured ankle.

“All okay?” He whispered as his thumb gently brushed some hair out of your forehead.

“Yeah,” you whispered but your voice was trembling with nerves.

“Are you sure?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. “Very sure,” you whispered, and you meant it. Of course you were nervous, maybe even a little scared, but you knew you were safe with him. You'd always been safe with him.

“Okay,” Sangyeon smiled into your lips before kissing you once more. One of his hands settled on your hip while the other ran over the outside of your thigh, sneaking its way under your skirt. A small whine escaped from your lips when his fingers lightly tugged at the fabric of your panties, letting the elastic snap back against your skin.

“Cute,” he mumbled, making your face flush with heat. Embarrassed, you covered your mouth with your hand, but he immediately pulled it away.

“It’s just me,” he said, keeping your hand in his. “No one else will hear, so don’t hold back.”

His other hand was still under your skirt, moving to your inner thigh now. His thumb rubbed circles into your skin in a motion that was both comforting and arousing. Then it wandered further up, tugging at the thin fabric of your underwear once more.

“Still okay?”

You nodded, trying to part your legs a little more so he knew you meant it. Sangyeon sat up a little, slowly pulling your panties down your legs which served a little difficult in the cramped space of the car. Once he reached your knees he went one leg after the other, carefully lifting the fabric over the bandaged bruises to make sure not to touch them, and then he was just as careful again when he reached your injured ankle. The sweet treatment made your chest feel full and you almost wanted to cry again.

"You don't have to be so careful. I'm not made of glass," you whispered while he slipped your panties all the way off and stuffed them into the back pocket of his jeans.

"I know," he said, leaning in again and leaving a kiss at the corner of your mouth, "but can't I still be gentle with you?" A grin tugged on his lips, "Or do you prefer a rough treatment?"

You felt yourself blushing, quickly averting your eyes as you stuttered "Gentle is f-fine."

Sangyeon chuckled. "Thought so."

His hands moved to the back of your legs, pushing them up so he could kiss the inner side of your knees and thighs, sucking little bruises into the skin.

"Sang-"

"Hm?" He looked at you through his lashes, barely detaching his lips from you.

"Sang, he'll see if you leave marks."

Sangyeon lightly bit down on your skin making you gasp. "Would that really be so bad?" 

Maybe you should have stood your ground, but the possessive gleam in his eyes had you swooning, so you didn’t complain when his mouth left more bruises in its wake as he slowly made his way to your core. When his breath fanned over your sensitive parts you yelped, instinctively kicking out your legs and almost hitting your injured foot on the car’s backrest. Before that could happen though, Sangyeon caught your legs in his hands. 

"No moving, hm? You'll hurt yourself. Just stay still and let me take care of you." 

Before you had a chance to reply, he leaned in again and put his mouth to work on your clit, making you moan instead. You tried to keep still, even as his tongue ran through your folds and made your body spasm with pleasure. But even if you’d wanted to kick out your legs again, Sangyeon’s hold on you was strong, keeping you in place. The difference in strength and the way he could overpower you so easily somehow had you even more aroused, calling to desires you didn’t know you had in you. Sangyeon seemed to have noticed, because he experimentally tightened his grip a little more, chuckling when you gasped and pathetically clenched around nothing. “It seems you like the rough treatment after all.”

You shook your head, too ashamed to admit it, but the way you whined when his teeth grazed your skin seemed to prove otherwise.

“It’s okay, darling, no need to feel embarrassed,” he said, looking at you as he let his tongue run over you again, “It’s just me, remember?” 

He let go of one of your legs, pinning it down with his elbow instead to be able to rub his thumb over your clit at the same time as his tongue pushed into you. You almost screamed at the sudden change in pace, the pleasure of it all a little overwhelming and making your head feel fuzzy.

“Sang–” you gasped, clenching your hands and bucking your hips, “feels strange.”

“Strange?” He asked, lifting his head, but not stopping the movement of his hand, “Or good?”

“G-good,” you agreed, screwing your eyes shut when his tongue was back on you, “So good.”

It didn’t take much longer for your high to approach, rippling through you in waves of pleasure that made you buck your hips into him. He kept going a little longer, helping you ride out your orgasm until you were reduced to a twitching overstimulated mess. Sangyeon sat up and wiped his glistening lips with the back of his hand. You watched him through dazed eyes, the realization of what just happened between the two of you not quite sinking in. 

He ruffled his already tousled hair. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“No, I don’t know,” you answered, still unable to take your eyes off him. “Come here.”

He smiled, leaning down and letting you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss.

“This is real, right?” you whispered against his lips.

“Funny,” he said before giving you another kiss, “I was about to ask the same thing.” 

series masterlist | tbz masterlist

[princessanneftw]

Fendi pays tribute to Princess Anne with themed Milan show

This was the designer’s witty love letter from one strong, forthright woman within a powerful dynasty to another

Stephen Doig for the Daily Telegraph

Just this week, a colleague was extolling the wardrobe virtues of the “accidentally stylish” Princess Anne. And it seems that Silvia Venturini Fendi, the formidable matriarch of the Roman fashion house, is in agreement.

“I fell in love with the style of Princess Anne who, to my mind, is the most elegant woman in the world,” said Fendi, backstage in Milan. “When I saw the Coronation last year with Princess Anne in her uniform, I thought she looked beautiful. So I said ‘let’s be inspired for a men’s collection’.” The collection took the codes of the Princess Royal’s singular approach to dressing and applied them to men’s clothing, with a dusting of Fendi luxury in the mix.

“It’s a little bit Town and Country,” Fendi said of the distinctly British homage. “The Princess Royal is very rigorous in how she dresses, with this kind of military minded attitude, but feminine at the same time. She has a life outside the spotlight. She’s kind of an anti-fashion person, and to me that’s something that’s actually very fashionable and chic.”

Princess Anne’s status as a style icon over the years certainly hasn’t been by design on her part – leave the Princess of Wales to the Burberry while she dons House of Bruar – and was never the intention of the no-nonsense and hardworking royal, who favours practical country attire and Oakley shades over couture and experimental shapes, horse trials over the Gucci horsebit loafer. But that same sense of self-assuredness, stoicism and very British approach to dressing is just what appealed to Fendi in theming her show around the royal.

In actual terms, that translated into twinsets and chunky tweed skirts, heritage fabric coats – plaids spliced on plaids for a layered effect – waxed jackets and Wellington boots. The kind of attire built for yomps at Balmoral and Gloucestershire horse trials rather than the bars of Milan’s Brera district. The colours were those of the British countryside; olive, moss, oak and stone hues that evoked Gatcombe’s Green & Pleasant Land. The skirts, coincidentally, were in fact big, blousy Bermuda shorts designed to ape the appearance of Princess Anne’s solid kilts, although the royal herself has always mixed up the gender codes with her upright military uniform, so perhaps she’d approve of a bit of fluidity in that respect.

This being Fendi, a bit of experimentation with fabrication also weaved its way into the collection, with a tufted coat actually made from slivers of denim and some plush shearling on cropped jackets.

What Princess Anne would make of the sparkly suits on the willowy young men on the catwalk – perhaps a nod to her 1970s glamour – as well as the screaming furor from fans outside due to the presence of K-Pop stars and actors James Franco and Kit Harrington is anyone’s guess. But Silvia Venturini Fendi is no stranger to the singular position of being a strong, forthright woman within a powerful dynasty. It was a witty stylistic love letter from one woman of substance to another.

[meanpregcomm]

Too Much Baby

Combining IYP request 424-2. Imagine you go to a private high school (18 obv) and are struggling to fit into the uniform as your breasts and belly grow bigger and bigger and 432-13. fic request: a very petite young woman (under 5' tall, less than 100lbs) gets pregnant with her 7' tall, almost 500 lb, boyfriends child. He doesn't want kids so he dumps her. She ends up having to give birth in her mobile home. During the long, difficult, excruciating labor and birth, she finds out that not only is she having twins, but that they definitely inherited their fathers size. With the smaller twin being almost 15lbs and almost 2 ft long.

"Uh oh," Kady thought to herself. "This is not good."

It was two weeks into her junior year of high school, and the adorable white denim shorts she'd gotten for her eighteenth birthday two months ago were already digging into her stomach at the waist. She sighed, pinching her chub, and vowed to switch to the nasty egg-white Dunkin sandwiches until the winter formal.

She bounced down the hallway, glossy ponytail swinging, and shouted goodbye to her mom's closed bedroom door. Her boyfriend Leo's Audi had just pulled up in front of her mobile home and she knew he'd be annoyed if she didn't get outside before he started honking.

"Do I look fat?" she pouted appealingly at Leo once she'd hopped in. "You look great," he answered without looking at her, and rested a hand on her breast as he drove towards the school. "You gotta talk to the super about that driveway," he said, for about the millionth time.

"I know, honey, the gravel isn't good for the car," she cooed. "It's just that no one in my part of town has such a nice car, handsome."

He accepted the flattery and reached over to give her a peck. "You're gonna live somewhere so much better someday," he told her. "You may be a scholarship kid but you are smart and you have good taste. And, of course, you're dating me." The towering mound of sandy blonde hair and corn-fed muscles smiled charmingly at her. How had she gotten so lucky? She was one of the few kids on financial aid at Carbot High, but she had somehow snagged a varsity running back as a boyfriend.

Leo dropped her off and she ran in with the rest of the junior girls, trying to avoid the prying eyes of the middle aged teachers' aides as they changed out of their street clothes and into the polo shirt and kilt that made up their uniform. Her uniform was a little tight in the waist too. She thought about skipping lunch, but she had also been so ravenously hungry lately. Well, she could always alter her winter formal dress. The benefit of being poor and having to sew your own formal wear was that she could make it fit her like a glove.

A month later, fitting into a formal dress was the least of Kady's worries. She may still be able to fit into her yoga pants and band t-shirts at home, but her school uniform couldn't be let out anymore, there was just no fabric left. It was impossible for her to button it around her stubbornly growing belly. The school bell rang and Kady panicked. She needed to figure something out fast. She grabbed a safety pin from her emergency sewing kit and pinned the skirt as best she could before running to her first class.

After school she cleaned the worst of the beer cans out of her kitchen and popped a microwave pizza in the fridge. Her mom was at work for the evening and Kady had been so incredibly needy lately, she jumped at the chance to have her big hunk come over and fuck her. Leo, though he hated coming to the trailer park, wasn't going to turn down a chance to stick his dick in her, so he showed up practically on time. Looking down from his six foot frame to her tiny, 5'1" body, now sporting a noticeable bump in the stomach area, he gestured to the pizza cooling on the counter and made a comment about how that might not be the best option for her. Stung, but horny, she nodded agreeably and pulled him into her bedroom and into her pussy, squeezing him so hard with each thrust that he cried out in surprise. He came quickly and she put her mouth on him until he was hard again, and rode him greedily, drinking up every little drop of his cum.

When he left, she felt a little dead inside, but she calmed the voices that said something didn't feel right with her microwave pizza.

---

The safety pin worked for two weeks, until it really, really didn't. She was in English class when it gave out, popping its overloaded spring and ricocheting off her desk with a tiny metallic ping. Mortified, she raised her hand to go to the bathroom, pinching the two halves of her skirt together with one hand while smoothing it nervously with the other. Her teacher granted her request, but she could feel all eyes on her as she walked out of the room. Before she even had a moment to collect herself, a classmate popped her head in and told her to go right to the school nurse.

"Honey, you're pregnant." Kady felt ice cold fear drip down the back of her neck. the nurse's voice was kind, but firm. She had peed on a stick twenty minutes ago, but the look on the nurse's face when after seeing her belly clued her in far before the two pink lines.

"Do you know how far along you might be? Does the father know?"

The questions washed over Kady. She just wanted to go home. Pregnant? She couldn't have a baby. She didn't want to end up like her mom, trapped by a child she had no desire to care for. She nodded dumbly and took the pamphlets the nurse thrust in her hand. "Five months pregnant....prenatal care....WIC voucher....baby shower" it all felt far away, like it was happening to a different person. She called a taxi, took it home, and stared at the pamphlets in her hands until she was too tired to do anything but sleep.

In a badly needed stroke of luck, it was three days before winter break, and Kady's mom would hardly notice if her usually dedicated student daughter took a few days off "sick." So, Kady wandered through the next few weeks in a haze, trying to make sense of what was happening. She made up her mind that she wanted an abortion, and got up the courage to ask Leo for the money.

Getting him to come over wasn't hard, but his eyes narrowed angrily when they saw her. Now that she wasn't trying to hide how fat she was getting, her pregnant belly was enormously obvious on her tiny frame. He was immediately angry, and although in the end he agreed to give her the money, it was over between them. She had been stupid, he'd said. And his football career was just beginning--didn't she see how selfish it was of her to get his baby in her? She was devastated, but on some level she wasn't surprised. At least she had the money she needed.

Unfortunately, showing up at the abortion clinic with a belly the size of a basketball meant that Kady was rejected at the front desk before even seeing a provider. Despite her protests that she had been a virgin five months ago, she had to admit that the sheer size of her pregnant middle made her look like a liar. She tried again at the other clinic, over two hours away, pushing the limits of her mom's unreliable Chevy, but she got the same response.

"You're having that baby, little girl," this receptionist had sneered at her. "Maybe next time you should give your boyfriend a blow job."

Tears stung Kady's face, and she cried the entire two hour drive home. School started again in two days. She had been so confident that she would have a skinny belly again by the end of this weekend. What was she going to do?

The answer, it seemed, was go to school and endure the shocked stares of her classmates, the pitying looks of the teachers who had hoped the girl from the trailer park would make it out, and the disgusted silence from the father of her baby, who made sure she knew that she owed him the abortion money back, and that if she tried to claim him as the father he would deny her.

She knew those were the greater ills, but for some reason the thing that seemed the most unfair was how completely awful her school uniform fit her very pregnant body. Even through her bra, the scratchy polo material irritated her sensitive nipples, and she now had to secure her kilt over her belly, making the skirt lift up awkwardly in front. She didn't dare ask for a new uniform--she was afraid every day that they would finally kick her out and she would have to stay home and explain to her mother that she and Leo had snuck around, been stupid, and made a very, very big baby.

Unfortunately for Kady, trying not to make waves didn't work very well. By six months pregnant she couldn't see her feet, constantly knocked supplies off her desk with her ungainly belly, and couldn't sit without spreading her legs. But it was exactly six months and ten days after the first time she had ever had sex with Leo that she got stuck in her desk chair and was just too pregnant to get out on her own.

Once the janitors had unscrewed the bolts holding it together and she had stood up, rubbing the painful grooves the furniture had made in her fertile mound, the guidance counselor pulled her into his office and told her that her scholarship had been withdrawn.

"You can try again next year Kady," he said, smiling condescendingly, "after you've had your baby. Or maybe a less challenging school might be a better fit for someone in your..." his eyes rested obviously on her swollen middle "...condition?"

----

She couldn't be sure, having been too ashamed to get any prenatal care, but the intermittent pangs she'd been having for two days were starting to get closer together. Plus, she was absolutely enormous. It was hard to imagine getting any bigger. She had had to move temporarily into her mother's bedroom. Her pregnant stomach dwarfed her body so completely that she had difficulty walking, and spent most of her days watching tv, crying, and moaning. It was nearly a full time job, lately, trying to soothe the angry, itchy, stretched and bloated orb of the belly she had created when she had bounced up and down on her giant ex-boyfriend's cock. Her breasts, swollen and painful to the touch, rested on top of her gravid mountain of a stomach, and she was too pregnant to sit up straight.

"I absolutely have to be close to giving birth now," she thought, "and as terrified as I am of birth, there is nothing I wouldn't do to get this fucking baby out of me."

As if on cue, her labor pains started in earnest. These were so much more intense than the lead-up cramps, but they still weren't coming very often. She called 911, and yelled to her mother that she needed ice chips. When her mother didn't answer after twenty minutes, she painstakingly waddled into the living room to see why. The empty bottle of vodka and her mother's groggy form in the recliner answered that question. Tears welled up in her as a contraction doubled her over.

Monstrously pregnant, mother passed out, baby's father gone forever, she didn't know how she could do this. When the EMTs arrived, even they couldn't hide their shock at her size. At first they tried to move her, but she was too big to fit on the stretcher. While they were trying, she felt a sudden intense urge to push and felt the baby descend into her birth canal. The EMTs quickly realized it was too late to move her, and one got a portable sonogram machine while the other ran to the ambulance for more supplies.

"Okay, let's have a look at the baby," a calm female EMT told Katy as she moved over Katy's contracting belly. "Oh," she said suddenly in a quick inhale of breath, "there's two in there. Congrats little mama, you're having twins!"

[gabessquishytum]

Valentine's Day Prompt 😈

Chef!Hob has been hired to cook a Valentine's Day anniversary dinner for the Endless family - a Mr. M. Endless, Mrs. C. Endless and a young boy. Their home kitchen is fantastic; Hob will enjoy cooking in it.

Throple Option -- Hob wasn't prepared for Dream and Calliope to be so damn hot and flirty. The housekeeper let him in to prep, so Hob was working when Mrs. Endless, Calliope, came home in a slick white suit - all ultra high heels, dominatirx-coded straight skirt, practically non-existent tank with a tight jacket showing off her smoking body. Hob is not a homewrecker, anymore, but Calliope might temp a saint.

Then the equally hot, additionally hot 🥵, Mr. Endless (called me Dream) came home in an artist's kit (dancer athleisure/painter coverups) looking like an absolute snack, with their kid Orpheus (who was also just darling). Yeah, Hob was in trouble.

Then the family Endless came down for dinner, cleaned up, done up, in this sexy formal wear,,,,,,that just.....Hob was going to ruin dinner if they didn’t stop working, together, to seduce him. And from what they hinted at, Orpheus goes down for bed pretty early. 😳🔥😳🔥😳

Askdjfjshs, with 2 weeks to go, it certainly seems like a good time to talk about this.

I'm now completely obsessed with Dream and Calliope hiring Hob with the intention of seducing him for their valentines date. Instead of going to their cozy dining room full of expensive things and paying attention to each other, Dream and Calliope hang out in the kitchen with Hob! Standing there with their wine glasses in their sexy outfits, exchanging steamy glances, and asking Hob all kinds of questions (with barely concealed innuendo). Hob’s hands are shaking - he's lived quite a slutty little life so far but nothing like this has ever happened to him before!

Alas, dinner is ruined (Hob ends up whipping scrambled eggs at around 2am, he's determined to do his job and feed his clients even though they insisted on ravishing him first!) but neither Dream nor Calliope seem too upset. They're too busy taking turns with Hob’s mouth. And his arse. And playing with his tits. They're quite insatiable, actually.

But Hob doesn't feel used. He feels quite loved, actually. Adored, even? Not to mention that Dream and Calliope also bring him breakfast in bed (its just toast, but hey, Hob is quite glad that they can't cook since that's his area of expertise). Plus there are adorable cuddles with Orpheus - always a bonus.

When Hob gets a message about his next client, safe to say that he's thrilled to find himself back in Mr and Mrs Endless's kitchen... being kissed within an inch of his life by two very eager mouths. Hopefully he'll eventually get to feed them some actual food later, but for now? He's happy to feed them something else 😏

[floridaboiler]

The November 27, 1943, edition of The Saturday Evening Post featured as its cover this painting by Norman Rockwell.

It depicts a young girl amid the ruins of an Italian city, recently liberated during the Second World War.

The girl wears a coat given to her by an American soldier, and is giving thanks over a meal of American field rations in a GI mess kit.

She has rags wrapped around her feet instead of shoes, and her skirt is torn and stained.

Symbolically, a set of broken chains is visible in the scene.

I think this image is the best depiction I've ever seen of what it means to be thankful.

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝕭𝖑𝖚𝖊 & 𝕽𝖊𝖉

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: This one was a roller coaster to come up with.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan.

TW // None.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°|

“Thanks Joe, you’re the best.” I sighed, tippy toeing up to take the warm cup of coffee from the older man in his trailer. 

“Ahh, don’t worry about it!” He said, waving his hand at me. “It’s on the house yeah?”

I hummed, settling back down on my feet and carefully took a sip out of the disposable cup. Groaning when the warm liquid ran down my throat, warming up my body. The bitter sweetness sedating my morning hunger.

“You are still the best.” I huffed out, seeing my breath in the crisp, dawn air as I brought my lips back down to drink the liquid once more.

“Hey, slow down with that!” He waved at me. “Don’t want you to have a stomachache now. You’re one of the best here!”

“Awww, is Mr. Holder admitting something?” I teased him, taking another sip out of my coffee, but slower. Taking his words into consideration. I really wasn’t in a mood or position for a tummy ache.

“Aaah, I swear you guys are addicted to those things.” He huffed, preparing another order for someone else while he flipped some food in a pan as it sizzled.

“Geez, I hope not.” I said, looking down at my cup like it cursed me. My radio giving me some static. “But you do make the best coffee around.”

“Don’t flatter me, youngster.” He countered, putting ketchup on the order. “You know I make the best coffee.”

“That you do.” I agreed, raising up my cup for him. Taking yet another sip out of it and answering my radio. Getting details of an ‘old wild lady’ that's been refusing to get back into her home with her nurse.

“Well, I guess I'll see you around Joe.” I sighed, putting my hand in my jacket pocket to find the car keys. “Duty calls.”

“I’ll see you around, Sergeant!” He yelled out to me while I made my way towards the police car. Finally, getting the keys out of my pocket and unlocking the car with the keys and a beep.

Opening the driver door, I plopped right down in the seat with another sigh and placed my cup in the cup holder before closing my door and putting the key into the ignition. The vehicle starting up with a soft rumble.

Rubbing my hands together, I blew into them and shivered before turning up the heat in the car and moved the vents towards me. Geez, who decided this morning was going to be this cold?

Putting a hand on the wheel, I put the other hand to shift my gear into ‘reverse’ and looked backwards before pulling out smoothly. Turning my torso back around to look in front of me, I shifted my gear to ‘drive’ and slowly drove up to the stop sign to get out of the parking lot.

Flipping on my blinker, I looked both ways. Watching for a clear spot before driving off onto the mainroad and made my way to the old lady’s address. Picking up my cup and taking a sip out of it while I was at it. Warming up my body once more.

Stopping behind another police cruiser. I put the car in park and observed how this situation was playing out for a moment. Shifting and preparing my vest.

There was, in fact, an old lady dressed in a white floral shirt with a light brown crocheted denim-jacket and a beige crochet skirt with beige tights and black loafers on, waddling up and down the sidewalk. Cursing up a storm to a cop I never saw in the division. His hands coming up in surrender as the old lady stalks up to him, waving her wooden cane at him.

It honestly was an amusing sight to see. Well, until she started wacking him with it.

Stepping out of my car, I closed the door behind me and walked towards the very agitated granny. Shifting my vest more comfortably, resting my hands on the neckline of it.

“Whoa there Ms. Would you mind not hitting my fellow recruit here? It is a crime you know.” I stated, stopping just short of her, not wanting to get thwacked by her cane next.

The lady huffed, glaring at the young man and settled her cane back to the ground. Grumbling underneath her breath.

“You see, that man!” The lady started, lifting her cane back up and pointed it at a man on her house porch that was getting talked to by another officer. “He’s not supposed to be here!”

“I’m your nurse!” The man suddenly yelled back. “I come here every Monday, Wednesday and Friday!”

“Why isn’t he supposed to not be here ma’am?” I asked, shifting my weight as she turned her sights back onto me.

“My Marine doesn’t like him!” She said, wobbling a little in her shifting steps. “Been seeing things that were there, but now they're gone. Stolen!”

“And you believe he’s been stealing from your home?” I questioned, watching as another police cruiser pulled up to the sidewalk behind the lady.

“I know he’s been stealing from my home! Necklaces, bracelets, rings, all gone!” She grumbled, stomping her cane into the sidewalk. “That hoodlum has been stealing from me ever since he was hired!”

“I have not!” The man yelled back, throwing his hands up in the air. The officer over there giving him a verbal warning.

Sucking on my teeth, I watched the officer from the cruiser jogging up to the little group.

“Hey, I can take over for you two. Figured you needed some time to get your new boot situated.” Officer Duran said. Wait, new boot? Looking to the younger male to my left, I observed him more closely. It was no wonder I didn’t recognize him the first time.

He was a young male possibly in his early 20’s or 30’s. No taller than a teenager. Brown eyes and golden brown hair in the style of an undercut. Clean shaven too, but boot? Since when?

“Yeah, Sargent Zavala picked you as a candidate.” Duran informed me, turning her attention to the lady as I gave a ‘huh?’

Shouldn’t he have come to me beforehand and ask me about it? Did I accidentally agree to something I wasn’t aware of? No, Zavala wouldn’t do that, would he? Only one way to find out.

“…Come on then, boot.” I gestured to the recruit to follow me. “Let's get you properly set up.”

“Really? You don’t look too thrilled to have me as your recruit though.” He speaks, quickly following me to the cruiser.

“I’m not.” I huffed, pulling open the driver door by the handle.

Briskly entering the doors of the department. I headed straight for Zavala office. Nearly bumping into several people and Astartes alike.

“Sorry there big guy.” I grumbled, sliding past a blue ultramarine and into Zavalas’ office where he sat, looking through some files as gently as I could, closed the door behind me.

“Since when was I to be assigned a boot?” I immediately started, folding my arms. “I don't recall signing up for one.”

“That right, you didn’t.” Zavala confirmed one of many of my concerns, plopping the files he had in his hands on the desk.

“Then why did I get a recruit assigned to me?” I asked, leaning all my weight to one side. “I’m a Sergeant not a training officer.”

“I know that, but a recruit was assigned to you because I believe you can train him well.” Zavala spoke, leaning forward in his chair to place his arms on his desk. “There were also more recruits that came in and they need their training.”

I huffed, not liking that he was right as he made a rather good counter on that one. Can’t leave the recruits untrained. It doesn’t make the department or the people inside look good.

“And Xerxes is to accompany you on your patrols.” Zavala said, pointing past me.

“Who? What?” I questioned, turning to look out the window the Sergeant pointed at, spotting the Ultramarine that I swiveled to get into here. “A Space Marine? Why?”

“Considering your latest… lost. He’s to monitor your health.” He responded, picking up another pile of papers on his desk and tapping them on his desk. Stacking them nicely off to the side.

“You think, assigning a Space Marine and a recruit to me is to help me?” I scoffed, unfolding my arms. “To replace that?”

Did he think I couldn't take care of myself? That I wasn’t capable of this job?

“I am not asking you to replace what once was. I am asking you to train a recruit and watch your health.” Zavala sighed, standing up from his desk. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you pulling extra.”

“I fought in battles. What makes you think I can’t overcome this one too?” I asked a little too quickly for my liking. My eyebrows scrunching up at the many thoughts going through my head.

“This is not about fighting battles, Sergeant.” Zavalas’ tone dropped, his chestnut eyes sternly looking at me. “This is about your health and your job. Not a war, not a battle. Your job.”

I couldn’t say anything, knowing he was right. Yet it still hurt to think I must be babysat by a Space Marine. That I looked like I couldn’t take care of myself. Though, it was my problem.

“I just– .” He sighed, closing his eyes, coming over and placing his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t want our best to fall.”

Those words should have soothed me down, and they did slightly, for being the “best,” but I kept thinking that he could find somebody else to do it. Find someone else that was better. That he could do their own damn dirty work. That I know I wasn’t the best, but at the same time it was my whole career. It’s all I ever known and be best at.

I twisted my tongue and bit down on it, shutting myself up to avoid anymore of my stupid thoughts. I know I wasn’t in the best of health. How could you not? How could I not?

“Go and meet Xerxes and give your boot a chance, Sergeant.” Zavala said, patting me on the shoulder, telling me that I was dismissed despite us being the same rank as one another.

“I’ll be watching your progression.”

[srldesigns6277]

Louis is SBB Harry is RBB take it up with them they decided but that is the way it is

Ok, if that's what you believe... but as someone who watched the insanity in 2015, and had seen young Louis know so many gay references before he was shoved it the closet, I have to disagree. Early on, there were multiple times where Louis would answer questions with slight lgbtq remarks as Harry and the other boys watched on, "early bird gets the worm", and it wasn't till later that Harry began making queer references.

Additionally once the bears existed their was originally no knowledge of which one was which. Throughout the lifespan of rbb, he seemed to wear more Louis style clothing; the ray ban sunglasses, the football kits and have a king crown. Often something attributed to Louis by multiple sides of the fandom. When sbb came into the picture in about the end of June - beginning of July, it was the more effeminate character wearing fairy costumes, skirts and a collar. Many considered this as the way Harry dressed and acted at the time. (Including the bandana as Harry’s day collar). It had nothing to do with size between h and l.

I got to see rbb and sbb once in the two concerts I went to. 08.05.15 and 09.12.15. Similar dress to as I explained was seen on them, however it was also a liam tribute due to hate. (Rbb was batman).

[lucajayms]

once again, i apologize for the rant

helloo, if youre still taking requests, fem reader who is the drummer (fuck b*b) who has been dating gerard since bullets (i love bullets gerard so much) and theyre doing the im not ok video and she is dressed as one of the cheerleaders and has the same uniform as the guys but with skirt. and gerard keeps making jokes about how unfair is that she is only one wearing a skirt and being cheerleader, everyone laughs and he acts like its no big deal but reader knows he feels truly a little bit sad because of it but she doesn't say anything because she want him to be the one to talk about it first. then like 18 years pass 😭 and reader and gerard are at a thrift store and gee sees THE cheerleader outfit and is really interested by it but tries to play it cool but reader convinces them to buy it and get it modified to wear on stage. then gerard puts it on for the first time and reader is just happy that he is so happy bc they have been wanting to be a cheerleader for almost 20 years 😭

take your time, feel free to ignore this, cubicles was soooo good thanks for reading my batshit crazy rants <3

You Should Have Raised A Baby Girl...

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gerard way x reader she/her used use of y/n

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masterlist

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warnings: mentions of drug use, drug tests, consensual ass grabbing

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funfact Gee wore the cheerleader dress on my bday 🤭 (8/24/22)

-

I cross my arms, the sting of doubt twisting inside me, and take a deep breath. "Are you fucking high?" I spit, each word coated in anger and disappointment. I know it hurts to ask, especially now, when he’s been clawing his way through every withdrawal, trying his hardest to get clean. But his hands are shaking, and his eyes, hidden beneath that curtain of greasy hair, seem lost and unfocused.

"What?" His voice wavers, but he manages to snap back, "No! I'm not!" He pushes his hair out of his face, and his eyes—those eyes I used to know so well—look up, wide and offended.

I narrow my gaze, searching his expression, his stance, anything that might give me the truth. His defenses are up, but that doesn't reassure me. "I don't care. I’m drug testing you."

He scoffs and flails his arms in exasperation. "Fine! Go ahead. I have nothing to hide." There’s defiance in his tone, but the fear flickers beneath it, plain as day.

I grab a test kit from my bag, ignoring the questions in his eyes. He looks at me, searching for privacy. I shake my head, a hollow ache stirring inside me as my thoughts drift back to Helena—how young she was, just seventeen, when her own addiction took root. They always find a way to make it negative, but sometimes that reassurance just isn’t enough. Bracing myself, I mutter, "What? It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before. I know how addicts work, Gerard. I've seen people fake a drug test."

He groans but doesn’t argue, reluctantly turning to the test. As he fills the cup, I give him enough space for dignity but keep my gaze steady, just long enough to confirm he's not faking. When he finishes, we settle into a tense silence, the minutes dragging painfully as we wait for the results. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, gnawing on my lip. My stomach twists, dreading that I might be right—and hoping, desperately, that I’m wrong.

The test finally beeps, and I look down, half-expecting the worst. But it’s clear: negative. For everything.

"See?" he snaps, grabbing the result before storming out of the bathroom. "Fucking told you."

I follow him out, the frustration spilling over. "Well, what did you expect, Gerard? Huh?"

He whirls around, his jaw clenched, eyes blazing. "I expected you to believe me, (Y/N)! Just once, without pulling out some test like I'm some… some criminal!"

His words hit me, and a wave of guilt washes over me, but I steady myself, my voice softer. "I just… I had to be sure, Gerard. You don’t get it. Watching you… wondering if you’re slipping again… it kills me."

He stops, his shoulders slumping, and suddenly he looks tired, worn down to his bones. "You think I don’t know that? Every damn day, I’m fighting myself. I’m fighting for you, for Mikey, for everyone. I’m trying, (Y/N). I’m really trying."

I reach out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know you are. And I’m proud of you. More than you’ll ever know." My voice softens further, a crack showing. "But I can’t be too careful, Gerard. I can't watch you spiral again. Not after… not after Helena."

At her name, his face shifts, and the anger in his eyes softens. He knows what Helena’s been through, what addiction stole from her, from all of us.

He looks away, sighing, and rubs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “For making you doubt me. But… I’m not going anywhere, (Y/N). Not this time. I swear.”

I nod, swallowing back tears. "I believe you," I say, and it’s the truth. “And I’m with you. Every step.”

We stand there in silence, something heavy and real hanging between us. I take his hand and give it a squeeze, feeling his fingers grip mine back, and for a moment, the fear eases—just enough to remember that maybe, this time, we’ll both make it through.

And he kept his word for the next few days. The jitters continued but it was fine because he was quitting cold turkey. That's a very difficult thing to do and I have no idea how he's gone this far.. I almost feel bad with every accusation that comes out of my mouth. I want to be wrong, and so far each time I have been.

The shoot for I'm Not Okay (I Promise) was set for tomorrow—our first real music video, with an actual budget. Sure, we had those two videos from the last record, but those were put together on scraps and prayers. This time, though? Reprise was footing the bill. They let us do whatever we wanted with it, so we went for prep school misfits, us being the outcasts, too clueless to catch the hints but somehow breaking through, brainwashing the place with our song. It was the coolest idea we’d had yet.

And it wasn’t just the video. Next week, we were kicking off the Taste of Chaos tour, our first tour for Revenge. The whole thing was surreal. I could see it in Gerard, the way he fidgeted with his sleeves, or spaced out a little too long whenever he thought no one was looking. He’d never done a show sober before, not a real one, and that fear was clawing at him. We all knew it. But no one dared to say it.

That night, we piled into a late-night diner, the five of us crammed into a booth, splitting greasy fries and cheap coffee. Gerard was uncharacteristically quiet, his fingers tapping anxiously against his mug. I nudged him gently, trying to pull him out of his head.

"You ready for tomorrow?" I asked, forcing a smile.

He chuckled softly, but his eyes were distant. I knew something was bothering him, he just didn't want to say it. “Yeah, I mean… it’s exciting. Just… a lot, you know? First real video. Then the tour…”

Mikey shot him a reassuring look from across the table. “You got this, Gee. We all do. This is what we wanted, right?”

Gerard nodded, taking a shaky sip of his coffee. "Yeah. I know. Just… new territory."

I leaned closer, giving him a nudge with my shoulder. “We’re right here. You’re not doing this alone. Just think about the video, okay? Tomorrow, we’re gonna be a bunch of misfit weirdos, and I think we’ve all had enough practice for that.”

That got a real laugh out of him, and I caught the hint of relief in his eyes. Maybe he was still scared, but he was here. He was trying.

That night in the hotel room, I sat in front of the mirror, straightener in hand, trying to make tomorrow’s prep a little easier. I’d get half my hair done tonight so the crew wouldn’t have to wrestle with it in the morning. But as I worked on one of the bottom layers, my gaze kept drifting back to Gerard. He was lying on the bed in his matching pajamas—Batman this time—eyes glued to the TV. I could tell something was eating at him. There was this distant look in his eyes, like he was somewhere far away.

“What’s the matter, baby?” I asked, running the straightener over a strand, watching him through the mirror. He shrugged, not looking away from whatever was flickering on the screen. “Come on, I know there’s something. Talk to me, Gee.”

He shifted a little, lips parting like he was about to say something. “Do you… do you know if…” He trailed off, shaking his head like he’d thought better of it.

I set the straightener down, turning to face him fully. “Do I know if what, babe?”

He hesitated, biting his lip. Finally, he sighed. “Do you know what your costume’s gonna be like tomorrow?”

My brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Like… are you gonna be in a skirt or are you matching us?” His voice was soft, hesitant, like he didn’t want to give away the reason he was asking.

I moved to the edge of the bed, leaning over to rub his shin through the silly Batman pajama pants. “I’m gonna be wearing a skirt, yeah. They wanted me to stand out a little more.”

He nodded, looking down, and there was that far-off look again. I could tell he was wrestling with something. “Why do you ask?”

He squirmed a bit, his fingers fidgeting with the blanket, before finally looking at me with those big, uncertain eyes. “I… I’ve always wanted to wear a skirt, you know? Just… not in a joke way. I don’t know, I just… I’ve thought about it a lot, but I’ve always been too scared to actually… you know, do it.”

The confession hung between us, delicate and vulnerable. He looked at me, waiting, as if expecting me to laugh or brush it off. But I didn’t. I just moved closer, so our knees touched, and I took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Gee,” I murmured, “you’d look amazing in a skirt. Seriously.”

He let out a shaky breath, almost like a laugh. “I just… I don’t want anyone to think I’m… I don’t know. I don’t want people to make fun of me or think it’s, like, a stunt. I just… sometimes, I feel like I’d be more… me.”

I felt my heart squeeze. “I get that. And you know what? Fuck anyone who doesn’t get it. If it’s something you want to do, then do it. I’ll be right there with you.”

He smiled, shy but grateful, and his hand tightened around mine. “You… you really think it’d be okay?”

“More than okay,” I replied, leaning in to nudge him with my shoulder. “If you want to, we can even get you a skirt for the shoot. Who says you have to look like everyone else?”

He let out a soft laugh, glancing down. “Maybe… maybe one day.”

I smiled, knowing he’d take that step when he was ready, and I’d be right there, cheering him on every step of the way.

The day of the shoot, Gerard was unusually handsy—not that I minded, of course. But he was everywhere, catching me in quiet corners, his hands sneaking under the hem of my skirt, fingers tracing my hips, or pulling me close when he thought no one was looking. He’d wrap his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder, a soft hum of contentment escaping him.

Something had changed overnight. The confession he’d made, that weight he’d carried, seemed lighter now. His energy felt freer, brighter, almost playful. This was the side of Gerard that only surfaced when he was truly at ease—no stage persona, no walls. Just him, vulnerable and electric, taking on the world with this new spark.

At one point, we were waiting between scenes, tucked away in the back hallway of the school they’d rented out for the video. I leaned against a row of lockers, tapping my fingers against the cool metal. He leaned into me, one hand braced on the locker behind me, his other resting on my hip, pulling me close. He gave me a mischievous grin, his eyes alight with something that hadn’t been there for a long time.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low, just for me, “I can’t believe I waited so long to tell you that. Last night… I just… it felt like I could breathe again.”

I smiled, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “You deserve to feel that way, Gee. No matter what anyone else thinks. I’m glad you told me.”

He pressed his forehead to mine, his hand tightening on my hip. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, (Y/N),” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Good thing you don’t have to find out,” I murmured back, brushing my lips against his.

Just then, we heard someone clear their throat. Frank was grinning at us from down the hall, arms crossed. “Lovebirds, we’re on in five. Hate to break up this Notebook moment.”

Gerard rolled his eyes, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he reluctantly stepped back, adjusting his tie. But he didn’t let go of my hand, holding it tight as we walked to the set together, like he needed that anchor.

The shoot went on, the hours blurring by in a whirlwind of takes and costume adjustments. Gerard, with his newfound confidence, gave it everything, his voice raw and defiant, his eyes holding that steady fire. When he wasn’t on camera, he’d throw glances my way, little secret smiles just for me, like we were sharing a world no one else could touch.

2022

Nashville was as sticky and humid as ever, clinging to us like a second skin. Gerard and I strolled hand-in-hand down the bustling streets, taking advantage of a rare day off to just be together. He’d wanted to go out, despite the heat, saying something about “soaking in the vibes” of the city. Since Taste of Chaos—his first tour clean—he’d grown into himself in ways I could never have anticipated but always admired.

The experiments with theatrics and costume had only gotten bolder: The Black Parade uniforms, the neon punk style of Danger Days, and each tour adding something new, a more vivid version of who he was. As his confidence grew, so did his willingness to play with his identity, his style, and especially his look. He’d always talk to me first, hesitantly at first, but now with a quiet confidence. We’d have long talks about gender, how he felt, and where he fit. He told me he felt somewhere in between, not fully masculine, not quite feminine, and finally, he’d started exploring what that meant.

His pronouns had become he/they—a subtle but important shift that he let me in on first. He’d whispered it to me one night, his face half-hidden by the pillow, unsure of how it’d sound out loud. I remember how his shoulders relaxed when I just squeezed his hand and said, “Then that’s who you are. And that’s who I love.”

Today, I could see how far he’d come. He wore a pair of black jeans, a loose-fitting yellow plaid shirt with his favorite green jacket. His hair was in that perfect, unkempt mess that suited him so well, falling into his face in a way that made me want to brush it back for him. He caught me looking and grinned, that mischievous spark in his eye.

“You’re staring,” he teased, voice low, hand squeezing mine.

“Can’t help it,” I replied, leaning closer. “My husband’s hot. And he knows it.”

He blushed, looking away with a smile that was all shyness and pride. “Lucky me. Got a hot wife who puts up with all my crazy ideas.”

“Oh, like the Black Parade costumes?” I teased, nudging him. “Or was it the neon hair phase?”

He laughed, that warm, unguarded laugh that I loved. “Hey, those were good ideas!”

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. “Every single one,” I murmured, brushing a kiss to his cheek. “You know, I love that you’re trying all this stuff out. The costumes, the makeup, everything… it’s all you, Gee.”

He sighed, leaning into me, his face softening. “I just… I spent so long thinking I had to be a certain way. But when I’m like this—when I’m just… me—it’s like, finally, I can breathe.”

“And I love you for it,” I whispered. “Every part of you.”

He looked at me, eyes bright. “Thanks for… always being okay with me. You don’t know how much it means.”

I kissed him, my hands on his face, brushing my thumb over the liner just a little. “It means the world to me to see you happy. I fell in love with the real you, Gee. And you're perfect just the way you are."

Gerard beamed as we wandered the streets of Nashville, our fingers intertwined, stopping to browse comic book stores, jewelry shops, and cozy little cafes that seemed to breathe with southern charm. We’d talk about the places we passed, imagining lives where we’d just hop from one coffee shop to another, taking days off together like this every week.

Then we stumbled upon the cutest thrift store, tucked away on a side street, with a neon sign that read Second Chances buzzing in the window.

“Ooh, Gee, maybe they’ll have one of the records!” I said, tugging him toward the door before he could even protest.

He laughed, letting me pull him in. “You really think someone just dropped an original Three Cheers here? In Nashville?”

“You never know!” I shot back with a grin. We’d been on a hunt lately to collect originals of our own records in any format—CDs, cassettes, vinyl. Thrift stores like these were sometimes goldmines for rare music finds, so every visit held a little thrill.

After scouring the music section and turning up empty-handed, we wandered over to the clothing racks, half just for the fun of it, flipping through sequined tops, vintage jeans, and concert tees that probably had a whole lifetime of memories. That’s when Gerard froze, his eyes locking onto something that made him tilt his head curiously.

It was a green cheerleading dress, faded but charming, with a big white W stitched onto the chest. The dress looked around his size—maybe a little snug, but close enough. He reached out to brush his fingers over the fabric, his eyes thoughtful.

I could practically see the gears turning in his head. “You want to try it on, don’t you?” I asked, a knowing smile tugging at my lips.

He looked at me, almost sheepishly, but nodded. “Yeah. You think they’d mind?”

“Oh, definitely not. They’ll love it.” I grabbed his hand and dragged him to the fitting rooms, slipping the dress over to him before closing the door. “Go on. Let’s see it.”

A few moments later, he opened the door, stepping out with a nervous little smile. The dress fit a bit awkwardly, the hem resting higher than it was probably meant to, and the waist a little too tight—but somehow, it still suited him perfectly. His hair spilled over his shoulders, framing his face, and the way he looked at himself in the mirror had me grinning ear to ear.

“Well?” he asked, tugging at the skirt to straighten it. “Does it look too weird?”

I stepped up behind him, resting my chin on his shoulder and looking at him in the mirror. “Not at all,” I murmured. “I mean, sure, it’s a little tight here and there. But I can make it fit. Just give me a few minutes with my sewing kit, and it’ll be perfect by tomorrow night.”

He turned, his eyes lighting up with a mix of excitement and relief. “Really? You think I could… wear it on stage?”

“Absolutely,” I said, wrapping my arms around his waist. “You’ve wanted to try something new, right? This is your chance. And you’ll look amazing up there, Gee.”

His smile grew, that sparkle in his eye I’d come to love. “You really think I can pull this off?”

I leaned in, brushing a kiss against his cheek. “You already do.”

We left the thrift store with the green dress carefully folded in a bag, along with a few vintage band tees Gerard had picked out on impulse. The whole walk back to the hotel, he kept glancing over at me, his excitement bubbling just below the surface. I knew he was nervous about tomorrow, about showing up on stage in something that finally felt like him, but he couldn’t hide the spark in his eyes.

As soon as we got back, I laid the dress out on the bed and pulled out my sewing kit, ready to get to work. Gerard sat beside me, practically vibrating with excitement, as I took measurements, talking through each adjustment I’d make. Every now and then, he’d crack a joke or mumble some self-deprecating comment about his body that I’d instantly counter, reminding him how perfect he was.

When I had the dress pinned and knew what I needed to do, he gave my shoulder a squeeze and ducked into the bathroom to shave his legs. I laughed when he popped his head out, cheeks flushed, talking about how he hadn’t done this since he was a teenager, experimenting with styles and pushing every boundary he could.

“I’m committed,” he said, grinning as he disappeared back into the bathroom.

As I sat on the bed, working the fabric to fit his frame, I felt an overwhelming swell of love. This was so much more than a costume. I knew he was taking a huge leap here, stepping into an identity he’d been tiptoeing around for years. The stitching felt sacred, like I was helping create something that would show the world the Gerard only I got to see: soft, unapologetic, playful, and so beautifully himself.

He left to find knee-high socks and sneakers, and by the time he returned, I had finished the dress, smoothing it out over the bed. He came in holding up a pair of bright white socks and some simple canvas sneakers, his eyes shining as he looked from the dress to me.

“You’re… already done?” he asked, a mix of awe and nerves in his voice.

“All done and ready for you,” I said, patting the bed. “Now go try it on. Let’s see the star of the show.”

He hesitated just a moment, then took the dress with an appreciative nod and disappeared into the bathroom. My heart pounded as I waited, imagining how he’d look and hoping it would feel as perfect for him as it did for me.

When he finally stepped out, I was floored. The green fabric hugged him in all the right places, and the socks added that playful touch he loved. But it was his face that struck me the most—the way he looked at himself, tentatively touching the W on his chest, then glancing up at me, almost shyly.

“Well?” he asked, giving a small, nervous laugh as he did a quick turn, tugging at the skirt. “I don’t know if it’s… too much?”

I couldn’t stop smiling, my heart so full I thought it might burst. “Gee, you look… you look absolutely stunning." I hold my hands out, gesturing for him to come over to me. "My pretty husband."

He laughed, his voice catching just slightly. “You really think so? I’m not… I mean, I’m no model or anything.”

Once he got over to me, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. “You don’t have to be. You’re you, baby. That’s all anyone needs to see, and that’s what they’re gonna see. This is everything I’ve ever dreamed for you—to just be yourself. This is all you.”

He wrapped his arms around me, holding on tight. His voice was soft, almost a whisper. “You make it sound so easy. I never thought I’d have the courage to do this… but here I am, with you, feeling like maybe I could take on the world.”

I pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering there as I took in every part of this moment. “You don’t need me to make you brave,” I whispered against his skin. “You’ve had it in you all along. I’m just lucky to be here, watching you become everything you’re meant to be.”

His eyes were glassy, and he leaned his forehead against mine, his voice choked with emotion. “I'm so fucking grateful for you. You're someone who makes me feel like I don’t have to hide anymore.”

All I did was smile at him. Words cannot describe how proud I am of him.

That night, he had the best stage presence in the 21 years of his career, and I mean that. I definitely didn't. I was so distracted, but I managed to keep on beat. I could have done better behind the kit, but how can I when I have my beautiful husband directly in front of me. Especially when someone gave him that stupid flame thrower. Where did he get a fucking flame thrower?

The rest of the tour he had a few more feminine outfits: the teacher, the flight attendant he called it, the tourist, the cat, and a few other. And he pulled off every single one.

All I could do was smile at him. There aren’t words for how proud I felt, how proud I still feel.

That night, Gerard had the best stage presence I’d ever seen in his 21 years of performing—and I mean that. It was magnetic. Every move, every word, he owned the stage. Me? I was a mess. My focus kept drifting, too distracted by the way he lit up in front of the crowd. I kept the beat, but honestly? I could’ve done better. How could I not be distracted when my beautiful husband was standing there, owning his truth, directly in front of me?

And then there was that goddamn flamethrower. Seriously, where the hell did he get a flamethrower? I could barely keep my eyes off him, but I swear, that thing almost distracted me more than he did.

The rest of the tour was a parade of outfits, each one more Gerard than the last. The teacher look, the “flight attendant,” as he called it, the tourist, the cat—oh god, the cat—and a few others that I never even saw coming. He wore every single one with such confidence, with a kind of ease that made it clear he was finally, fully, himself. Every time he stepped on stage in those outfits, he wasn’t just performing; he was living—and the crowd felt it, too.

I just couldn’t get enough of it. Every single night, he blew me away.

4685 words

thank you for reading, my loves!

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

The guest PT 12

Masterlist

"You actually really like these people, don't you?" Fagin asks Jack

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?" He laughed, popping a nut into his mouth.

"Help me, Bob, I'm bully in the alley!" Rotty sang.

"I see Big Kit and his boy, Alfie, are doing all right for themselves. It goes to show that there's more out there than just ambergris." Fagin mused.

"Fagin, just enjoy your coin, and drink your rum." Jack shook his head in amusement.

"I am. Don't mean I can't be working. It's how a thief stays sharp."

A woman comes.over and sits on Jack's lap, "No. Thank you." He says to her politely.

"You still thinkin' about your fancy skirt? Who's distracted now from the sacred purpose of drinking, eh?" Fagin quips. Jack sighs.

"I just don't understand it. She keeps telling me I should be with Belle but I kissed her and I felt nothing." He runs a hand through his hair.

"ahh well women so rarely say what they mean."

Fagin fumbled in his pocket for a moment before passing a wrapped cloth across to him. "You'll be needing this soon I suspect." He nods.

Jack unfolded the cloth allowing a small silver ring to fall out.

"What is this? Who did you steal this from?" He asked in a hushed tone.

"No one, well...it was Nancy's."

Jack felt his heart stop at mention of the name.

At that moment the tavern doors burst open and red coats came rushing in. Chaos lost control.

*_*_*_*

You walk into the hospital, trailing along behind Belle and Fanny. You had made sure the younger sister used peppermint instead of peppers for the jelly she had made. You had to admit it was becoming harder to recall the TV show and what happened in it. After all it had been almost two months since you had arrived in Port Victory. At times you could almost forget where you had come from, if it wasn't for the dreams. Every night since you had fallen you had the same dream.

The sight of Hetty made you smile.

"Nurse Beggett, can I speak with you a moment?" You ask, allowing the sister to wander off up the stairs. Hetty nods and leads you into the nurses room.

"I need to talk to you, about your cousin." You say.

"Of course. What do you need to know?"

"Did she have weird dreams?" You ask nervously. Hetty stops folding sheets and turns fully to you.

"Yes, she called them visions. We didn't believe her but she would say she saw other worlds. Places where the people were different but also the same."

You breathe a sigh of relief and nod.

"Okay. What happened to her?"

Hetty's eyes dropped briefly.

"Honestly, we don't know. One day she was here the next gone."

"oh."

There is a rush of movement and noise in the corridor and you both rush out. Hundreds of people are being rushed in all around you.

You rush straight to work helping the influx of patients. You had worked in the emergency room so many nights this felt almost normal for you.

You hear Hetty call out.

"Some doctors would be nice!"

Quickly after you see both Belle and Jack coming in. Jack is frantically trying to help patients into beds and looking for the Professor. Your eyes meet his. He breathes in, opening his mouth to call to you but you turn and rush away. If you were busy with a patient he couldn't talk to you. Could he?

This influx was more than what you thought, Jack explained to the prof that Gaines had ordered this massacre and you recalled the episode.

"Bully in the Alley." You said to yourself. Upon hearing you Jack turned to face you.

"What did you say? You know something don't you?"

"I'm sorry, Jack." You say looking at the young man lying in the bed. Jack sighed.

"Can we talk?" He asks you, "later can we talk?"

"There is no need, everything is as it should be." You say and walk away.

"Y/n-"

"Let her go. I'll talk to her later." Belle says as she moves across the ward.

"Jack, this is a lot more complicated than you think. Y/n is a foreteller." Hetty said across the bed.

"Like your cousin?" His head shoots in the direction you had walked.

"Jack, patients now, love life later." She demanded. Jack nodded and went back to helping the patients.

Slowly the sun began to rise outside, Jack and Belle stood over Alfie Wilderkins.

"There's nothing more we could have done. Not with bleeding like that." Jack explained to Belle, "Hetty, have you eaten anything at all?" He asked. The nurse looked as if she was half asleep.

" No time." She says continuing with her work. All the staff had been cslled.in o er night to cope with the amount of patients. You watch them from the door. Gaines pushes past you knocking into your shoulder as he walked by.

"Captain Gaines, I will be speaking to my father!" Belle spit out at him.

" Have you come to finish them off? Blinded in one eye, a fractured skull, and a ruptured femoral artery!" Jack half shouted.

"All the results of resisting lawful execution of a warrant And that's young Alfie Wilderkins if I'm not mistaken. This is a very good day indeed." Gaines grinned.

" I want the men responsible court-martialled." Jack growled.

" Well, that would be me. You'll need to tell the Governor his right hand is a criminal." The Captain almost laughed.

"Yes. That is a very good idea." You say, causing him to turn round to you. He curled his top lip for a moment.

"Arrest them. They're accomplices." He orders his men pointing at the patients. Belle runs to the door and puts her arms out to her side.

"They need medical care. I can't let you take my patients."

"They were never your patients, Lady Belle. They're my prisoners. Stand aside." He takes a step closer to her, " Your father indulges you. If you were my daughter..." you slide between them putting your hand on his chest.

"She would run away. Like your wife." You his. Gaines narrows his eyes on you.

"And what would.you know of family?" He says.

"More than you. Tell me how is your wife's lover, oh sorry I mean your closest friend." You keep your chin turned up towards him as you speak.

Gaines steps forward his hand beginning to raise, but he's stopped by Jack gripping him.

"No, Jack let him hit me." It's your turn to step forward your face close enough to whisper to the Captain, "Where I come from, women hit back and harder."

Gaines let out a growling huff, his lips moving like he wants to say something else. He turns back to Jack, "Pity you didn't strike me, Dawkins." He said before marching from the hospital. Belle follows him.

"Your father can stop this!" Jack shouted.

"Where do you think I'm going?" She shouted back. Jack takes a step toward you but you retreat slightly.

"You removed your bandage?" He said quietly. You look down at your arm and twist it.

"yes, I needed the movement, I'm alright. It's okay, the pain is minimal." You assure him before once again turning away.

*_*_*_*

"Right. Here we go. Hair of the rat." Fagin poured the secret Whiskey into two mugs handing one to Jack.

" I need to find what Gaines cares about the most and rip it from him. Hit him where he'll howl." Jack says, hand lent on his hand.

"No, Dodge, provoking the lobsters head on, that's not our way."

" He's turning this place into a floating prison yard." Jack argued

" Which it technically is. And what's priceless in a prison? Contraband. He's done us a service, he's turned liquor into gold. And you know what's useful about me being on your ward? I got word from an injured farrier, about where they're takin' all that purloined grog.

"Gaines is knocking my patients' skulls in, and all you're thinking about is nicking grog!"

"It's because we're pickpockets. We're not the cavalry. We melt into shadows, we spot our moments, we survive. Now, I've got a man on the inside. Literally." Fagin laughed.

"These people matter to me, Fagin." Jack spat out

"Ah, very pretty. That's a lovely sentiment. Very noble." Fagin sat across fr.him

"Look, a stagecoach goes by with a year's worth of grog. Flashbang's hiding inside one of the crates..."

" What happened to you to make you so shrivelled with self-interest? Cold winds, Dodge. Cold winds. A stick with brass tacks on it that fell on me back no matter how much I begged. A belly that gnawed and never got filled, except for gruel or filth, and creeping hands in cold alleys and the dark nights without a roof. All right, I get the idea." Fagin explained making Jack feel small. "Yes. Things that you and Oliver never had to worry about, because I always made sure you boys had a blanket and a fire and a meal, and the means to get them when you was grown."

" Then why not show some of that same sympathy to these people now?" Jack implores.

" Look, you can give yourself to this crowd if you want, you can pretend you've found a home. But most people are bastards who will cross you as soon as spit and then when the night turns, the only one who'll be loyal to yourself is yourself, and me." Fagin continued.

"Until it inconveniences you."

"You're one to talk. You get a hole in your chest and you want to fill it up with crime, 'till Lady bloody Cheekbones twitches her skirt, then you drop me and you piss off. Well, I'm your family, Dodge. I'm your home, when you condescend to acknowledge me." Genuine hurt filled every word Fagin spoke.

"y/n is not just a fancy skirt. She isn't one of them." He fights back, turning his eyes to the floor.

"Could have fooled me." Fagin almost walked away until he saw the look on Jack's face. He had seen it once before. Many years ago, utter devotion to another person without question. A set of eyes that would remain in his mind forever in his memory and devotion that got the girl killed. He stepped back to the man that was once his beloved child, gabbing him by the shoulder and squeezing.

"I'm sorry, my boy. We'll get him, soon enough. Give it time, but lad, don't fall in love lad. It'll ruin ya."

@fandomfan-102 @deanstolemydragon @mydeputyghostwagon

[kaizenkhaos]

You're Imagining It...(Oh Really?)

So I saw a post a while back (I tried to find out and honestly struggled so will link if I ever come across it again), about Steve telling Robin that Billy was coming into Family Video to flirt with him. Yet no one would believe him. So this is my take on how things went down ^^

"You're imagining it."

Steve looked over at Robin, arms full of videos before putting them down carefully on the counter. It wouldn't be the first time they'd fallen all over the place. And speaking of not being the first time… The conversation Steve and Robin were having at that moment was a broken record. For the past week, a certain blond haired someone had been visiting the store every single night. Sometimes for and with his sister, scanning the aisles for the latest action or adventure movie. Other times alone, picking up stuff for Max but also at times himself. It had been an interesting insight into both Max's and Hargrove's tastes but that wasn't the thing that had gotten Steve's attention. It's that Hargrove's attention, when he'd not been scavenging for films and snacks, had been solely on Steve. It hadn't mattered who else was serving or had been on shift; every single time Hargrove had come sauntering up to him. Beelining across the store as soon as he laid eyes on him like the god damn Halloween party. If there'd been toilet paper around, he swore the guy would have brought that over too.

Robin wasn't sure how many times she would have to say it for it to finally sink in but Steve certainly wasn't getting the message she was telling him. He'd gotten it when she'd come out to him and told her about her crush but with this? It's like his delusions were full fledged and had no intentions of flying the nest. And it was sad. There were so many girls making eyes at Steve which Robin would love to stand a chance with, yet here he was, fawning over possibly the worst guy for him. Hargrove was brash, abrasive and not the type of guy Robin wanted her best friend to date, but apparently Steve either couldn't see that or had a real thing for bad boys. Robin personally had never seen the appeal.

Steve was mere seconds away from saying exactly what was on his mind to Robin, his eyes veering her direction, when yet another customer came through the door. A welcoming smile plastered itself on his face as he welcomed the young mom and girl in the store, watching as said mom was dragged off to the kid's section. The whining about wanting the latest Princess movie making him chuckle. He was ashamed to admit it but…the new one was actually kinda good. Animation wasn't the best in places, a little bit janky and the dialogue was definitely better in the last one. Holly had been obsessed with the series when he'd been with Nancy a couple of year back; knew every word to every song, or as near as damnit. The way she'd said some of the words made him smile, even after everything that had happened since. He did miss that, though not the looks Mr Wheeler used to give him when he'd caught Steve singing along.

"No, Robin…Listen. It's always one movie, return for next day. Always said in that voice and with that god darn smile. And the gum smacking! Come on Robin, you know what that means when they do that. It's attention grabbing, like that girl the other day…"

"Yeah but she was making you goo-goo eyes and even hitched her skirt up at one point. Steve, I just…." Robin sighed, knowing it wouldn't be the last time. Steve wasn't going to get it out of his head; this idea that Billy Hargrove, Number One Pain in the Ass of Hawkins, has the hots for him and that everything he now did was suggestive in some fashion. Not that it was school yard pig tail pulling to piss him off.

As if summoned by them talking about him, along came the man of the hour. Again alone and this time kitted out in his classic denim jacket, white top and tight denim jeans, he sauntered in like the guy he was. One with the air of no care in the world, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, white top tight to his chest. Steve tried not to stare as Robin sighed, finding something else to do other than watch Steve act the fool and Hargrove scanned the store. Like he'd never been in here before and didn't know the floor plan like the back of his head by now. Steve knew Billy wasn't stupid and the way he slammed his car around the town…yeah this guy had maps in his head, all planned out. And it's not long before their eyes met, over the aisles like some cheesy rom-com, and here he came. Shark like grin, glint in eyes, hands in pockets. Strolling over with long strides and then draping himself over the counter. Elbow out, hand on cheek and the tape appearing like magic.

"Not bad man. Not the best of your recommendations but passable. A 5 out of ten, just because I'm feeling generous."

"Well aren't I honoured?" Steve huffed, opening the cassette case to make sure it was rewound before slipping it back into its case and adding it to the pile. Ignoring Robin's side eye as she swiftly whisked it away. "So what you on the market for tonight? More babies in bikinis or is it cops and robbers on steroids?"

"Careful Harrington, there's children present," Hargrove sniggered, nodding at the young mom and girl who had been heading to the counter and were now diverting towards the snacks. Talk about worst case timing.

"Nah not on the market for either. Maxine is after that Ferris Bueller film? Something like Day Out. I told Maxine I don't want her and her dumb ass friends getting ideas. It's meant to be about skipping school from what she's told me."

"Yep and sticking it to the man."

"Dad'll have my hide if she starts with that." A mutter aimed at the counter but Steve picked up on enough to raise a slight brow before he schooled his face again. Hargrove's ocean like eyes latched on his like a heat seeking missile.

"Got anything else that might be a fitting substitute?"

Where he'd gotten the gum from, Steve wasn't sure, but now Harrington was leaning across the counter. Gum swirling around his finger…geez was Robin really not seeing this?! How was this any different to the girl who'd been chasing him two nights ago? "Well I mean…." He really needed to concentrate and so chose a spot just between Hargrove's eyes instead. "Could always go with Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure? School vibe but has some awesome music in it and some history to boot. Could always pass it off as an educational film."

"Smart move Harrington," Hargrove winked, looking over his shoulder to gauge which shelf he'd need to look for it on before turning back to him. "I'll do that. Guess Hagan was right on more than one thing about you. Way more than just a pretty boy."

What the hell had Tommy been saying to him….oh off he went, to get the video and giving Steve just enough time to get his wits about him….

"And what might those….be.." Steve just shook his head as Hargrove sauntered off. Video in hand, ass in those tight jeans which made Steve's eyes go down before he pulled them back up again.

The next day Nancy was trying to convince him, just like Robin, that he was just imagining things. That his dreams were merely that and that… "He's just winding you up Steve. You know what he's like and he's probably put there with Tommy, laughing about it."

"Yeah sure," Steve muttered, his eyes going from Robin to Nancy before he turned his back on the pair to go and use one of the computers. There were records to be updated and he couldn't stand to be around the conversation for any longer. He wasn't imagining it. He knew when someone was flirting with him and Hargrove was flirting. The whole nine yards. He kept coming back. Trying to get close to him, being suggestive. His eyes on Steve as soon as he spotted him. He was acting like a girl with a crush but everyone was saying he was the one like that.

"Harrington!" The girls look over at him as he strides in. Today he's decked out in his life guard gear, clearly having dropped in on the way to work. What with him being on early shift and Hargrove usually came in before work. Afternoon shifts at the weekends, morning shifts in the week so he'd be around to get Max. "Great film recommendation man. Didn't realise you had such refined taste."

"Yeah yeah, what you after today?" Steve tried to play it smooth, watching as Hargrove did the whole leaning on the counter gig he did. His eyes firmly on Steve as he tilted his head from side to side. As if trying to weigh him up. Wondering if he'd gotten under Steve's skin. Nope. He was just acting nonchalant so Robin and Nancy might take him more seriously in the 'he is hitting on me' case.

"What's with the attitude all of a sudden? I've been a really loyal customer recently Harrington." Yeah a real royal pain in the ass. Seeing Steve's raised eyebrow, Hargrove decided to just cut to the chase instead, rising slightly up from the counter but elbows still firmly planted on it. "So Maxine wants something to watch with St….Lucas. Somethin' not too mushy or soppy but you know…."

"Somethin' like Grease maybe?"

"What's that about? Sounds like a kitchen drama."

He smirks as if he's being funny but Steve just ignores him. "It's a high school musical about kids falling in love and all that jazz. I mean…it's a little mushy but has some neat tunes in it, plus some nice cars." "Huh. Okay. Not sure if I wanna listen to some kids whining for two hours but we'll give it a shot. Better not let me down Harrington. Those good looks may save your ass for some but not me amigo. If this movie sucks, you owe me dinner." A pause before that shit eating grin came back and Steve could feel the guy's eyes on the back of his head as he went to find a copy. If they dared say anything about him being delusional now, he was gonna scream...

[swashbucklery]

fic preview: flowing here like honey

The "short little solstice one-shot" is too long to be finished for real-life solstice, but I thought tonight would be a good night to post a preview.

coming soon: flowing here like honey (Willow, Kit/Jade/Elora, E. part of the and her light stretches ot3verse)

Solstice has always been so - complicated.

Kit remembers watching it from afar when she was small. The darkest, longest night of the year filled the great hall in the palace with light and warmth and hundreds of plates of food, great casks of ale. She loved the way that her father had delighted in all of the silliness - the royal family giving the gift of a feast to the lower classes, the cakes, the revelry. The way the palace would echo with laughter and shouts that Kit could hear from her chambers long after she'd been whisked off to bed with assurances that there would be plenty of solstices when she was older.

(Kit remembers, naturally, sneaking down the servants' staircase to look. She remembers a lot of red faces, adults play-fighting and drinking and kissing in dimly-lit corners. She remembers her mother's wine-blush, looking at her father with an exasperated kind of fondness Kit rarely saw outside of balls and parties.)

The traditions from when she was small always felt so magical. There were different words for it, but there was always a king - someone with a paper hat, red-faced, directing the festivities. Always one of the stablehands, or the junior guards, a young man blushing at the indulgence of ordering around his seniors and his rulers. She remembers hazy glimpses of her father serving wine by candlelight to the "king" of the night. She remembers cakes with coins and little prizes hidden inside.

(She remembers sneaking extra slices of cake with Airk until they were both nearly sick; each of them hoping for the slice with the coin in it. She remembers the year that Airk had won; finding the coin and earning himself a little pocket-sized paring knife that made Kit burn with jealousy, undeterred by her mother's assurance that knives aren't for ladies, anyway.)

Kit did grow older, and there were plenty of solstices after her father left, but they were different. Much quieter, and much less bright. Always a big party, but less boisterous, fewer red faces, more pinched looks. She was old enough then that she was wrapped into a dress, and she remembers aching to leave, stuffing cakes into her skirts for later. She remembers sneaking hopefully into the stables at night, sharing her heard-won sweets with Jade. Jade laughing when Kit pulled cake after cake out of her gown and Kit muttering that it was the only thing skirts were good for. Solstices as Kit grew were a complicated mix of dread and discomfort, nothing like she'd hoped they'd be.

The celebration tonight is joyful, just the way it seemed when Kit was small. When she descends the stairs to the tavern proper, the air is warm and it smells like food and spiced wine. It sounds like laughter, the sounds of fiddles and stomping and the first few threads of song. Solstice like this, without the complex trappings of court, is lovely.