#pitch in for polly

[thesassypadawan]

Make Them Blue (Sam x GFReader) *Blurb*

Summary: It’s No Nut November and your boyfriend was not only dumb enough to get roped into participating in the challenge.  He also stupidly decided to throw a belated Halloween party over the weekend…where you just so happen to bust out that sexy, little succubus outfit he’s been begging you for.  

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut.  Slightly rough smex, cranky/pent up emo boy, slightly blue balls, and…Sam’s chubby, pierced dick.

Notes: Happy No Nut November all you, lovelies! 🤍💙

- “Just had to wear this fucking costume…”  Burying his face into your neck, nipping and sucking at your hickey-riddled skin.  Teeth tug at your cute, leather choker…roughly.  Probably trying to snap it in a form of revenge; like the salty, little brat he is.  “Couldn’t of been like a stupid pumpkin or something else…”

- Thrusting hard, you let out a shrill cry.  The sound bouncing off, echoing through the cramped closet.  Making your ears ring, heart leap into your throat.  Hoping that it was muffled or at least covered up by the loud, thumping outside the slatted door.  “I’m sorry, Sammy!  I-”

- “Shut up!”  Plunging deeper; his long length fills, stuffs you.  Thick base stretching out your poor, little cunny.  Gummy walls burning from the drag, puffy folds from the pleasurable ache.  “Ain’t talking your way out of this one!”

- Bucking up wildly, his sinewy hips ram into yours.  “Th-Thought you’d like it!”  Fat tip bullying, that stud of his brushing and scarping maddingly against your cervix.  With each sloppy, uncontrolled drive.  Forcing a string of pathetic whimpers and babbles to fall from your crimson painted lips.  “Said you al-always wanted to see m-me dressed-”

- “I don’t care!”  Inked hands grope hungrily at your plush curves; squeezing, kneading them.  Chipped black nails sinking in, tarnished rings leaving shallow indents in your supple flesh.  “Making me lose the damn bet!”

- Landing a solid smack on one of your handles, snapping a studded strap on the other.  Cause your body to ripples, tits jiggle.  High pitched squeal escaping you from the sting.  “Now you’re gonna get it!” 

- Nimble fingers grip your soft waist tightly, lifting you high enough.  For only his chubby head to stay wedged inside your trembling warmth…  “Take it!”  …before shoving you back down.  

- Holding onto firmly, moving you as he liked…what suits his needs.  “Let me use this pussy as a fucking cocksleeve!”  Forcing you to mewl and whine at his strong strokes, brutal pace. 

- “Til my balls are dry!”  Slamming you roughly one last time, sheathing himself completely.  Hot spurts of cum flood, coat…paint your gummy walls white.  Small paunch bulges slightly from his pent up load.

- Crashing your lips, tongues tangling together in a messy kiss.  Barely softening before starting to pump in and out again.  Sticky seed trickling out from your abused hole, from around his cock.  Splattering onto Sam’s forgotten ghostly mask, your impish wings.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @jediavengers, @jameskellysgirl,  @xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo, @laoif, @xhunnybeeex, @morganellison2007, @vaderswifey, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @fuckmyskywalker, @these-travels, @valyna27, @shadowycollectionpuppy-blr-blog, @paechyx, @bimbo-doll1206, @supernatural-lover, @bigaoibhe2024, @kllyslutz, @og-baby-ob14, @piastricentric, @elcaballerodragon, @byunnue, @doesntmattert, @soooooohyuk, @sassyenthusiastfart, @gaynslay, @abbygailparish08, @caro-pozos02, @marauder2sstuff, @cjlovesreadingxx, @ala2ilas-s, @rhiluvzani, @cocobear18, @pumpkinpiefilling, @polly-xo, @neymvrz, @jennasco, @lotte08, @roryheartz, @ahszcoven, @mrschristensen13,

@littlelamy, @khoatic-with-no-energy, @raiwpenl, @malinadbbdh, @strokingforyou26, @xspacexwitchx, @em-21, @hearts4sammonroe, @shouldbetakencareof2, @loxbbg, @supersoldatbarnesstuff, @thesilentreaderrrrr, @theoriginalsinner28, @dumb-slut-things, @indigoblues1207, @ald6518, @julxstrawberry, @nevaehthecreator1, @wh0sl0ttie, @tojis-missing-arm

[swanimagines]

Hey! Could you write headcanons for Being the Peaky Blinders’ nurse? Thanks so much!

When you first got one of the Shelby’s to your little clinic, you were surprised instead of being afraid. 

The Shelbys weren’t exactly good people, but they were kind to those who lived in the area, helping them in exchange for not snitching on them.

So you didn’t think twice when you ushered them to lay the man on your table and started examining him.

It was John - bruises covering his body, him groaning in pain as you twisted and pressed around him to find any broken bones.

He had a nasty gash on his side and bruises, but nothing more serious.

So you disinfected his gash and wrapped it up, before you called out to his brothers to come and pick him up.

“A week of rest and lots of water helps a lot,” you instructed them. “But if he gets a fever, bring him back immediately.”

And that was that, they thanked you and left.

You thought it was the last time you’d see them, at least for a while – but then they kept coming back.

You didn’t really understand why, your little clinic at the corner of two backstreets, on the verge of bankruptcy, when they could afford going to one of the fancier places near where the injury happened.

Not that you complained of course, they paid you handsomely.

But to your surprise, those payments weren’t enough as a large company bought the building complex where you had your clinic, and you were forced to close it.

You wandered around Birmingham for a week or two, trying to make up a way to feed yourself and pay the rent for your flat.

And then…

Tommy Shelby himself appeared at your door.

“I have a proposition,” he started, handing you an envelope. “We have a free room at the Garrison, you could practice your clinic there. In exchange, you would take care of our gang.”

You eyed him for a moment before you peeked into the envelope. Hundreds of pounds laid there, enough to pay off months of rent in advance. You frowned.

“Why me?”

He was quiet for a moment. “You help without questions, are good at what you do and are currently struggling.”

You stared at him for a moment longer, fiddling with the envelope, before you nodded. “Let me get my suitcase.”

The room at the Garrison was bigger than you expected—not as big as at your clinic, but plenty of room to do whatever you needed. And you remembered occasionally thinking that you could get by with a smaller room.

So, you began your work.

The gang was your priority, but you were allowed to take other customers for extra coin.

Not that there were many, but you were content treating the gang only too - they paid you well, you had money to live comfortably.

Sometimes, they invited you to have a drink or two with them.

In case you fell sick, Polly and Ada took care of you.

Hot tea, warm blankets, soup.

They fell like they were your mother and sister those times, by how caring they were.

Eventually, you moved to live closer to Garrison, Tommy pitching in to help you with costlier rent.

Finn growing up meant he spent time at your clinic a lot. He got into trouble almost daily and came back with bruised or bleeding knees, and you were constantly patching him up.

And Arthur needed your help after he returned from fighting rings, or when he had wandered around and got into trouble while drunk.

You grew to be an important part of the gang, something you didn’t expect.

And they, in turn, grew to be important to you too.

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S)

[runnning-outof-time]

Beach Day | Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - but encouraged by @holacia3 with this ask

Pairing: Modern!Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: (Y/N) manages to pull Tommy out of the office so that they can go on a trip. Once at their destination, they waste no time and have a much needed beach day. Or: Tommy forgets everything the second he sees (Y/N) wearing his shirt.

Warnings: language, some suggestive sentences

Word Count: 3332

A/N: this one’s probably going to flop, but I’m happy that I managed to finish it amidst the bout of writer’s block I’ve been experiencing. It was the other option on the poll I ran a few weeks ago. I haven’t got to take a trip to the beach this summer, so I decided to write about it instead. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: this will be the last story posted in July … I’m going on a trip with my family next week and most likely won’t have any major time to write the other requests. I’m hoping that maybe I’ll be able to write and share some of the blurbs that I’ve got in my asks, but big stories have been halted until August.

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories like this one!

"...and you can't argue with me because I've already packed your bags," (Y/N) ended her pitch in an assured tone, setting her confident gaze on her fiancé, who was sitting across from her...at his desk, of course.

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but the door to the office opening stopped him. Both he and (Y/N) looked over to it to find Polly entering the room. "I'm going to need you to hand over your diary," she said, walking right over to the desk, extending her hand towards her nephew when she stopped in front of it.

"I'm guessing you got her in on this?" Tommy asked (Y/N), his eyebrows raised as he looked between both women.

"I did," (Y/N) nodded in an assured manner, a tight-lipped grin present on her face, "and you're not getting out of it."

"Everything's been handled. Go take a break, Thomas," Polly added, moving her fingers then to remind him that she was going to need his diary.

"So it's been settled then, eh?" he looked at (Y/N) again.

"It has been," she answered him, a victorious smile present on her face, "give her the diary, Tommy."

"If I must," he sighed dramatically as he picked it up from his desk and handed it over to his aunt, making a big deal over it. Inside he was glad that (Y/N) had planned this out...he'd been working tirelessly on the business' latest expansion and hardly had a moment to breathe, but yet he wasn't going to stop and take one for himself. (Y/N) realized that and took it upon herself to plan the forced holiday.

"You must," (Y/N) stayed stern on her point, although the smile she was wearing was full on her face now. Tommy took one more look at his fiancée and couldn't stop the smile from forming on his face. There was not a doubt in his mind that he was ready to relax with her.

——

By that time the next day, Tommy and (Y/N) found themselves checked into a private resort that sat right off of a beautiful beach.

After unpacking their luggage, Tommy made his way out to the living area of the suite they were staying in with the intention of checking in on how things were back at home. He was thankful that this resort had high-speed internet, because he couldn't stand to be disconnected for too long. The flight to the resort was already pushing the limits...nothing would connect in that damned airport.

It seemed as though (Y/N) had other ideas of what they should be doing next. She exited the bedroom the second he'd gotten comfortable on one of the couches. Taking one look at Tommy made her audibly sigh and drop her hand to hit against her thigh, the sound of it making him look up from the screen.

He immediately noted that she had changed. Her comfortable airport attire had been switched for a swimsuit and a loose, practically see through dress that she was using as a cover-up. A pair of sunglasses rested atop her head and flip-flops covered her feet. How she managed to get changed so fast completely perplexed him.

"You're back to thinking of work already?" she commented, a bit of an exasperated look filling her features.

"You know how I like to check on things," he stated, defending himself as he shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"I do know, but we're on holiday, Tommy," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but we just got here."

"Yeah...and I'm already ready to go down to the beach."

"I noticed that."

"Tommy..." (Y/N) sighed, a frown forming on her lips. She held her gaze on him for a moment, watching and waiting for him to say something, before continuing to speak when silence persisted. "I'm going to throw your bloody phone in the ocean if this is how this week's going to play out," she threatened him, her voice holding a more serious tone than it had before.

"Just let me do it now," he bargained with her, "I didn't know we were going to get into things so soon."

(Y/N) pursed her lips as she thought about his suggestion. She finally responded after letting silence hang in the air for a few moments, "fine. You can do it now, but please don't let it become a habit, ok? This was meant to take you away from work," she laid out her stipulations.

"Fair enough. I'll curb it for the rest of the week," he agreed to her counter-offer, nodding his head to seal the deal.

"Good," she nodded in response to his statement. A few beats of silence passed before she spoke again, "I'm going to go down to the pool and wait for you, ok?" she told him her plan.

"Ok," he agreed, watching her as she walked over to where he was sitting. "Look beautiful, baby," he couldn't resist giving her a compliment, his eyes running over her body.

"Thanks, Tommy," she smiled at him, her stomach filling with butterflies as she leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. "Don't be up here too long, hmm?" she mumbled against his lips after pulling away.

"I won't," he promised her, feeling her smile against his lips before they shared one more kiss. (Y/N) stood upright again, smiling and nodding at him once more before she moved back over the island that broke up the kitchen and living space.

"You know where to find me," she told him while making sure that her tote bag was filled with the essentials: beach towel, sun tan lotion, hotel room key, and, of course, her latest book. She looked over to him, watching as he nodded one last time, before she made her way to the door of the suite.

There weren't many people sitting by the pool, so (Y/N) was able to find an open lounge pretty quickly. She set her bag down next to the chair and then relaxed back against it. The ocean's waves could be heard from where she was, and the calming sound of them made her shut her eyes and take a deep breath. It was good to finally be able to take some time and actually relax.

As a senior member of the Shelby Company Ltd.'s marketing team, she was working just as much as Tommy was. Always coming up with new ways of advertising; always keeping up with the different avenues Tommy was taking the company down. It was tedious and time consuming, sure, but she wouldn't have it any other way...the job was how she met her fiancé, three years ago.

With both of their busy schedules, neither really had the time to take a moment and relax...until (Y/N) made a point to now. She was thankful for this trip, and she was sure that Tommy was, too.

Some time passed as she sat, relaxing on the pool lounge. She wasn't sure how long she'd been out there; she wasn't really keeping time as she switched between laying with her eyes closed and watching the other people meander about the pool area.

Luckily she was doing some people watching when Tommy came walking down the stairs and into the pool area of the resort. She spotted him as he was descending the steps, and immediately noticed that he'd changed into his beachwear. The white t-shirt and jeans he'd worn while traveling was now swapped for a pair of gray board shorts and a baby blue linen button down shirt. She couldn't help but stare at him as he walked across the area to get to where she was lounging.

"Ready to go down to the water?" he asked as he stopped in front of her lounge.

"I see you're finally finished with your work," (Y/N) commented, pulling her sunglasses down slightly to peer up at him.

He chuckled at her statement, shaking his head slightly as he looked out to the ocean, "yeah, and it's finished for the rest of the trip."

"If you say so," she brushed off the topic as she sat up on the lounge, collecting her bag and making sure that she had everything she'd come down with. "Let's go down to the beach," she said with a smile as she stood next to him. Tommy nodded his head before allowing her to lead the way to the gate that separated the pool area from the private beach that the resort offered.

The beach was beautiful. The sand was soft, and the breeze coming off of the waves made the hot rays of the sun not burn so bad. One of the perks of the resort having a private beach was the fact that there weren't many people inhabiting it.

(Y/N) and Tommy quickly found a spot to set their things down. (Y/N) made sure that the beach blanket Tommy had brought with him (because she'd forgotten it in the room) was laid out underneath one of the umbrellas the resort had set up. She set the bag down on it before kicking off her flip-flops and lifting the cover-up from her body.

"Let's go down to the water," she excitedly said, flashing a look in Tommy's direction before she took off towards the waves.

"You're not even gonna wait for me," he responded, moreso to himself than anyone, a smile forming on his face as he shook his head. He could easily tell how much she was already enjoying this holiday, and he was so thankful that she'd planned it for them. It took him a few moments to undo his button down and set it into the bag before he too kicked off his flip-flops and began walking down to the water.

He approached (Y/N), who was standing facing the waves, and wasted no time wrapping his arms around her midsection. His actions made her shriek at first, but she sunk into his embrace in seconds. "Isn't it beautiful?" she asked him, swaying slightly along with him.

"It is," he mused, resting the side of his head against hers as they looked out at the waves. "The water's not too cold either."

"It's not," she agreed, her hands coming up to sit on his forearms, "let's go in," she said then, tapping his arms to let him know she wanted to be released. He obliged, and she took his hand to lead him out deeper in the water.

They made their way out to where the water reached their waists, stopping there even though Tommy thought that they could go out a little bit further. (Y/N) protested his suggestion, telling him that 'things might eat us if we go any further'. Tommy listened to his fianceé's statement and stayed where they were. They spent a good amount of time in the water, switching from swimming around, to floating with the waves, to (Y/N)'s personal favorite: hanging onto Tommy like he was a tree and she was a koala.

At least an hour of them spending time in the water had to have passed before Tommy finally decided to start heading towards the shore. His movement, of course, didn't go unnoticed. "You're leaving me?" (Y/N) questioned after she saw him take a few steps backwards. She was enjoying herself in the water and had had no plans of leaving it any time soon.

"I think I'm ready to get out of the water," he answered with the obvious.

"We've not been in here long though," she pouted.

"I need to go sit for a minute, love. I'll be just up there," he told her, motioning to where their things were. (Y/N)'s pout didn't subside, but she nodded and allowed him to leave the waves.

She watched him walk up the beach and sit down on the blanket they'd laid out. Her eyes lingered for a few moments before she went back to floating on the waves.

It wasn't long before (Y/N) was exiting the water and walking up to where Tommy had made himself comfortable. It just wasn't the same wading in the waves alone. She wanted to spend as much time with Tommy as she possibly could. A sight - that she honestly wished she'd be surprised to see - was waiting for her at the blanket though.

"I thought you said you'd ditch the work while we're here?" she commented as she stopped in front of Tommy, who had his face buried in his smartphone as he tapped away at the screen.

Her voice made him quickly look up, a surprised expression forming on his face as he noticed she was right in front of him. "I was just checking a few things," he told her, holding his hands up in surrender, his now locked phone present in one of them.

"Mm-hmm," (Y/N) shook her head as she moved over to where the bag was sitting so that she could grab a towel and dry off, "you do know the ocean's right there, right? I could honestly take that phone and give it a good chuck," she stated, making sure her body was dry.

"You wouldn't," Tommy responded, a slight tone present in his voice, showing that he was testing the waters.

"I just might," she quipped back, a grin on her face as she dropped the towel back into the bag.

Before she could move to sit next to him, light blue fabric caught her eye. She instantly recognized it as the linen button down Tommy was previously wearing. She picked it up without a second thought, draping it over her shoulders and slipping her arms through the holes. It covered her swimsuit clad body immediately and she was grateful for the soft, cool fabric on her otherwise warm skin. She'd just finished rolling the sleeves up to her elbows when she finally felt Tommy's eyes on her.

Tommy had been watching her from the second she came back to the blanket. His phone was quickly forgotten as he watched her dry off and then grab the shirt from the bag. Sure, she had her own cover-up, but he was so damn happy that she'd chosen to slip his shirt on over her body. Something about her wearing his clothes just got him going. Just when he thought she couldn't get any more beautiful, she went ahead and did something like this. He couldn't help but let his eyes travel up and down her frame.

(Y/N)'s eyes finally found his when he found her face once more, and she couldn't stop the butterflies from fluttering in her stomach as she noticed the look he was giving her. She wanted to make a comment, but it died in her throat as she just about melted under his stare.

"C'mere," Tommy finally spoke, nodding his head to the side as a non-verbal addition to his statement. She grinned at him and happily followed his direction, moving over to where he was sitting.

He brought his knees up and opened his legs slightly, offering her the perfect spot to sit down in; one that she quickly fell into. She easily got comfortable sitting between his legs; her back rested against his chest. Tommy wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her, pulling her even closer to his body as he leant over and began pressing kisses to the side of her neck.

"Tommy, stop!" she exclaimed through her giggles, finally trying to squirm away from his lips as his actions quickly became ticklish. He listened to her and stopped his kisses, but he didn't dare loosen up the grip that he had on her.

It was easy for his hands to find their way onto her body, being that she'd left the shirt open, and he couldn't help but let them roam her figure. He took his time, feeling every curve as he nestled his face into her neck; breathing in the sweet smell of her skin mixed with the sunshine that had been kissing it since they exited the hotel room. (Y/N) had practically melted into his body, absolutely loving the feeling of his hands as they traced her skin.

She waited until his hands found their resting spot on the sides of her waist, his arms crossed over her stomach, to finally speak again: "I see that I've got your mind off of work now," she said with a grin, turning her head so that she could see his face out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh you most certainly have," he answered, a grin laced into his words, "look so fuckin' beautiful in my things...always, baby," he mumbled against the skin of her cheek before he kissed it.

The butterflies returned as she heard what he had to say, and she couldn't stop herself from turning in his arms even more so that she could press her lips to his in a much needed kiss. "Love you, Tommy," she mumbled against them, smiling as he kissed her again, this kiss holding more emotion than the last. "I can't wait for the rest of this week with you," she said once they'd finally pulled away from each other. She was now sitting with her body turned more towards him, so she was able to look at him head on. She couldn't stop her cheeks from heating up as she caught the look of total adoration in his eyes.

"If this is a preview of what's to come..." he trailed off, a grin forming on his face as his eyes danced over her figure once more, "I already know that this trip is going to be one that's hard to top."

His cheeky comment that was accompanied by a rather suggestive glance, made (Y/N) gasp, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes and shake her head as she tried to distract herself from how his words actually made her feel. Why did there have to be other people present on this beach?! She had to look towards the ocean for a few moments to re-center herself from the look that was making her wonder what they could get away with out here.

A few moments had passed before she felt the sharp snap of her swimsuit's strap against her skin. "Tommy!" she shrieked at the sensation, her eyes snapping back onto him to see that a smug grin was now present on his face. He tried, and failed, to feign innocence before his expression dissolved into a grin and chuckles. "I can't believe you," she shook her head, gently pressing on his shoulders for him to get the hint to lay back on the blanket.

She wasted no time in pressing her lips to his when he did lay down, and he made a mental note to do things such as that more often if this was going to be how she responded to it.

After sharing a flurry of kisses, (Y/N) rested her head against his chest, not caring about the shine of sweat that was present due to the heat of the sun that was engulfing them. She was thankful for the shade that their umbrella was providing.

Tommy wrapped his arms around the small of her back underneath the shirt of his that she was still wearing, effectively holding her close to him...like she was going to be moving any time soon. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the serenity that was surrounding them; not thinking about anything but the beautiful woman laying with him.

Like he'd said before: if this was a preview of how the week was going to go, this was most definitely going to be a tough trip to top.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[muttsupreme]

LIPSTICK ON ROMAAAAANNNNNNNNN

him w this hair in s1……ROMAAAANNNN!!!!! bring back ur s1 hair and my life is yours..

I’ve written so many drafts previously (um obviously not here but privately) about Roman using your lipstick/lipgloss and most frequently, your chapstick.

It starts with him wanting to smell like you; vanilla lip masks that look way too sticky but he tries a little on his fingertip and rubs it on very lightly after you leave your desk. Shiv’s face scrunches up when she sees him with a glossy lip for the first time since she let him borrow her Polly Pocket makeup kit when they were kids (her mom got it for her before it was even released, and assumed she’d be so excited; she was not).

Shiv will make some snide quip, privately for once.

“Uhh, did you…just come back from Sephora, or…?”

“What?” He immediately goes on high-alert, higher defense, and realizes that it must be glossy, the fucking lip mask bullshit that smells like warm vanilla and cookies and tastes like pure sugar when he stupidly licks his lips without thinking (or maybe to hope, y’know, that your spit is in it, so it’s indirect kissing). “Oh - fuck you, do you want chapped, dry, disgusting lips? Because some of us don’t want to look like ogres, Fiona.”

“Hey, I was just asking,” she says in a higher pitch with a dismissive chuckle. She doesn’t mention it again; she recognized the smell, who that smell usually follows. Roman’s wary of her from then on, for weeks.

Next time, he’s going through your bag that you refuse to unpack, because it’s only a weekend trip and then you’re going somewhere else immediately after. Why unpack when you’re gonna repack the next day?

He sees stuff, tons of stuff. Sniffs sweaters when you turn around. He’s got your blanket pulled out already, draped across the bed and him, laying on his side looking at you as you get ready for bed in the ensuite bathroom, door open so he can continue making fun of your regiment and the things you’ve packed.

From your purse nearby, or your makeup bag, he picks up a lipstick (I imagine Diorelita). It opens with a quiet ‘pop’ that you recognize and turn around to see him looking attentively at the color.

“Think it suits me?”

“Mmh, maybe. Wanna see?” You reply with a grin, watching him get a little shy on you.

“C’mere,” you encourage him, sitting on his lap as he leans against the headboard, your lipstick in hand. “Lemme make you pretty.”

He lets you, and you’re shocked he’s staying so still. When you’re done, you snarkily - but entirely jokingly - say, “Now what do we say?”

“Fuck you? Thank you, for…making me pretty,” and he does, he’s very, very pretty with that color on, and you did very well gliding it on evenly. He leans up to kiss you just as you lean down to kiss him; the lipstick smears onto your lips.

“Roro - your lipstick’s getting on me,” you try to rub it off, unsexily. You don’t really have to be sexy around him, it’s one of your favorite things.

“Um, it’s your lipstick, I’m just…temporarily borrowing it,” he huffs defensively. His heart literally does fucking cartwheels when you call him that stupid, almost maternal nickname. “Just come here - shut the fuck up, stop complaining. I’d lick the lipstick off you if you’d just get a little - closer.”

“Aw, romantic boy,” you coo, kissing him sweetly and feeling his tongue stick out, lapping at your lips, making good on his promise like a little puppy. When you’re almost positive he must be done, you pull away, but he’s not having it.

“Whoa - slow your fucking roll, you’re not going anywhere, you look…you look like a clown, lipstick’s still all over everywhere,” he says, trying to get you to come back instead of going back to the bathroom. You’re pretty sure, not positive but willing to bet, that he’s lying and you have no lipstick left anywhere on your face.

“I’ll come back,” you reassure with a whisper; you hate to leave him alone when he’s being so sweet, with such pretty makeup on. “Aww, pretty baby,” you can’t stop yourself from cooing at the unintentionally pouty look on his face, one he’d be humiliated by if he saw. You give him a chaste peck.

“Jesus, give me a second to brush my teeth and pee and I’ll be back. Promise.”

“Yeah, but then you won’t taste like you, you’ll taste like…mint and tap water,” he complains. There’s no pleasing him, other than you being beside him at all times.

Okay whatever that’s just two of my many one billion ideas of Romulus and his obsession with…….indirectly kissing you, being pretty for you, being close to you, and um, your lips in general. I could and might write another little thought-post about his obsession with your lips and stuff, who knows. I’m feeling romantical (‘roman’ being the main part of the word).

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

Imagine Being Thomas Shelby's Twin

Platonic!Shelby Family x Fem!Reader

Various x Shelby!Reader Warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of past childhood neglect, period-typical sexism. The image below is just to visualize what a twin for Tommy could look like.

“You’re left, I’m right, therefore I’m never wrong.”

Aside from Polly, you know Tommy’s mind the best.

As children, you and Tommy were always together. Tommy would lead the way as you raced from one misadventure to the next. As his right hand it was your obligation to help him execute his tricks. Of which you were eager to join.

It was a common joke between you and Tommy to pretend to read each other’s minds. You would take hours practicing how to mirror each other’s body language and finishing each other’s sentences. The payoff was always excellent, and it resulted in most of Birmingham believing that the two of you had a genuine psychic link. Even as adults, you like to behave as if you can communicate telepathically. With how in tuned you are to one another, that ability could very well be real. 

As teenagers, you and Tommy drifted apart somewhat. He was always on the move. There was always some plot, some brawl, some girl. You were more than willing to help, but you became more of a thinker than a doer. Tommy could see that, and so he left you out in favor of using your brothers instead. Which hurt.

Although Tommy would grow into a prideful young gangster, he was still a dreamer. He would stay up late with you to go over his dreams and schemes. Together, you drafted up a gilded vision of what the Shelby family could be someday. To you, it was a lovely idea. To him, it was a bright future.

Back then, the days were bright and filled with laughter. You had a long line of admirers for your brothers to chase off, and Tommy had an equally long line of girls for you to warn. You used to walk on the sunnier side of life. Always thinking about the good in the world and prone to smoothing over the uglier parts to hide them away. Tommy used to say you had a “head full of flowers.” 

Things changed after the war. 

You absolutely joined your brothers in the war as a volunteer nurse. It was hard to leave home, but you had to stand by your brothers. Nothing could have prepared you for what lied ahead. 

Tommy was a different person when he came back, so were you. You still liked to laugh and dance, but your laugh felt hollow. He started talking about changing the family’s fortune much more often. Almost every night after the war he would stay up with you, planning all the ways he could strike gold. This time, you weren’t just dreaming, you were plotting right along with him. 

No matter the cost, you would see your family rise.

Aside from Polly, you know Tommy’s mind the best. You know when he’s lying, even when he’s lying to himself. When nobody can get through to him, they go to you. For your siblings, you act as an excellent sounding board for their potential requests or inquiries. Of course, Tommy can always tell when John or Arthur had spoken to you before pitching an idea to him… but it’s fine.

You are the right to his left and the heart to his mind. Together, you two are dangerously close to a functioning human being.

To Tommy, you are a sensitive spot. He bends easier to demands you make and he tends to listen more to your words. You are also someone that makes him very vulnerable. There are things Tommy has told you that no one knows about, not even Grace.

If you must accompany him to meet with potential associates and rivals, he keeps you close. 

That certainly hasn’t stopped certain men from trying to charm you. Billy Kimber, Darby Sabini, Alfie Solomons, Luca Changretta, Jack Nelson, and (sadly) Mr. Oswald Moseley. All the boys can’t help but turn their heads as you walk by. And it leaves your brother mildly stressed as they lose focus on the meeting to watch you reapply your lipstick.

Oswald seems the most determined to have his way with you. Something about having you would be the greatest victory against Tommy, fucking his precious twin. Luckily, you see through him and are disgusted. The same cannot be said for other would-be suitors.

Alfie Solomons has a sort of rawness that you find refreshing. He speaks in riddles and yet is unblinkingly straightforward. You like the way he tips his hat to you. Luca Changretta is one man you still think about at night. Had the mess with Angel Changretta never happened, you feel like you could've been happily married to a man like Luca. Jack Nelson has caused you almost as many problems as Alfie. He speaks plainly but not without calculation. The way he flirts is so smooth you forget it's happening. Tommy has refused your offers to go to America in his stead.

When and if you marry, it’s likely the marriage would be to someone Tommy sees as an asset. He won’t just let his good twin marry some oaf with no prospects. Expect him to demand a bride price for you along with a caravan filled with goods. 

For Tommy, you are his humanity. The side of him that still sees God in all things. The part of him that may yet go to heaven when she dies. Tommy must protect you, even as he resents you. If he were to ever lose you, God save his enemies.

[the1975attheirverybest]

CENTERSTAGE

A/n: I can’t remember when exactly this was written or why. I think shortly after the buzzcut debut? Idk. Anyways. Matty and Amelia slutty on tour. Enjoy.

Warnings: smut. 

***

“Y’ seen Amelia anywhere? Can’t find her…” Matty asked, turning around, his eyes darting around the crowded backstage area in an attempt to locate his partner.

“Sorry, haven’t seen her, no.” Polly shook her head.

He patted her shoulder lightly as she squeezed past, mentally going through a list of places Amelia could be. They had a set post-show routine. She would wait for him in the exact same spot backstage after every show,

kept him company as he debriefed with the band and crew, often helping him to unwind and get ready to be taken back to the hotel at the end of the night.

Tonight was a London show, though, so it’s possible she’d run into someone — Perhaps gotten stuck in a conversation a bit too long — and simply hasn’t been back yet.

Retreating from the cacophony of the end of the show into his dressing room, he reached for his phone to text her and found that she had already beat him to it.

MATTY HEALY TO MAINSTAGE PLEASE; MATTY HEALY TO MAINSTAGE. Xx

Matty grinned as he read the text, confused, but hurried to report for duty anyway.

***

“Darling?”

She heard him before she saw him, in the pitch darkness of the venue, she bit her lower lip, flipping the switch that a tech had shown her earlier, to turn on some dim, moody lighting.

“Oh.” Matty squinted as the lights came on. “Oh my- you look-“

With a light flick, Amelia disrobed, taking off the long coat she’d had on, to reveal what was underneath. She stood in the spotlight that she had manufactured for herself, her heart racing. She wondered if she would ever grow used to being on the receiving end of his undivided attention.

Matty looked up at her, devoured her with his eyes. The dress she’d put on had left very little to the imagination. He was particularly fixated on the way that the lace pattern on her breasts had creatively incorporated her nipples into the design. Flower petals framing it invitingly. Daringly.

“Join me, would you?” She gestured at the couch in the center of the stage, turning away from him to hide the fact that she was blushing.

“Oh, try and stop me.” He grinned, rushing over to her, and almost stumbling his steps.

“Drink?”

“I’d love one, actually.” Matty sat in the center of the couch, legs spread wide open.

He lit a cigarette while he waited to be served his beverage.

“Not gonna lie,” he mumbled, the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth as he spoke. “This feels a bit trippy.”

Amelia stood in the space between his legs and took a sip of his drink before handing it to him. The clinking of her rings against the glass as it passed from her hand to his turned him on.

“Feels like I’m role playing a fantasy or my own real life.”

She smiled, “I thought you liked the whole ‘what’s real and what’s acting’ schtick.”

“I- I did. I do. ‘S just….whats the occasion?”

Amelia could feel her confident facade wearing thin as she stared down into his big, brown eyes. She shrugged. “I mean, I just thought….you’ve built a literal house. We never get to use it.”

“That’s usually cuz they’ve got to disassemble it really quickly-“

Amelia helped herself to the cig right out of his lips, staining it with her freshly applied lipstick.

“Fuck me.” Matty whispered, his hands reaching for her waist, but she slipped right out of his touch.

“Wait, one second. Let me set the mood.”

She walked over to the record player, popping on an instrumental. On her way back to him, she adjusted the lighting a bit better.

“Right,” she whispered, sitting in his lap and turning to straddle him. “Where were we?”

Matty never put his drink away faster in his life. “I believe I was just about to kiss you….”

When their lips finally touched, Matty felt it like fireworks in his face.

Her hands grabbed his face, she leaned in further, sliding into his lap, her legs wrapped tighter around his waist.

Matty let out an involuntary moan, his hips bucking instinctively. Her clothed center perfectly lined up with his.

She swallowed his breath, stubbornly refusing to let up, even as she, herself, began to struggle for breath, images of him from earlier, his trousers doing little to conceal what’s underneath as he swayed under the revealing lights of the b-stage all flooded her brain. She grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand and placing it at her neck, as if begging him to choke her.

“Please. Need you.”

He turned their intertwined bodies so he could lay her down on the couch, her legs refusing to unwrap him. She whined when he stopped kissing her for a moment. How dare he let her need him. Even for a second.

His body hovered over hers. She couldn’t quite make out the look in his eyes. Somewhere between breathlessly admiration and animalistic hunger.

“Gonna make you feel so good.” He whispered, leaning forward and dipping his head below the skirt of her dress.

Her legs finally loosened around his hips. She was growing aware of how wet she was. How he’s about to see it all.

“So ready for me.”

There it was. The smug satisfaction.

He pushed the center of her underwear to the side. It landed against her skin with a snap, making her gasp. The ever so slightly sting only enhanced her anticipation of the pure ecstasy of his tongue on her cunt.

Matty deliberately exaggerated the licking and sucking noises that his mouth made. Normally, she’d find it absurd. But he had her head spinning, she whined for more, pushing harder into him, her nails scratching at his newly shaved head, her hand keeping fixed against her core.

The force of her hands making it harder for him to breathe only egged him on. He worked her, dutifully, to a trembling cusp. He reveled in the sound of her voice as she called out his name, desperately. Over and over. His hand wrapped around her neck, squeezing faintly and listening for stifled moans that he felt get caught in her throat.

“More.” He whispered. “Say my name more. Say it over and over.”

She almost couldn’t hear him over the sounds of her own pleasure. A part of her wondered if she had made up his words. Maybe the lack of oxygen and maddening near-orgasm had caused her to imagine things. But then she felt the vibrations of his voice against her cunt as he groaned.

“Louder, Amelia.” He demanded. His voice calling her by her name cut through the fog, hitting all the right pleasure centers. Nothing turned her own more than hearing her name on his tongue. He owned her. Mind, body, and heart.

“Oh, fuck- Matty- I-“ she squeaked, barely getting her words out.

“Do it” he nodded. “Cum. Now!”

Her body tensed up. He felt her clench. She went stiff with white, hot blinding pleasure.

“Another one.” He simply said, refusing to let up on her sensitive body even as she whined and tried to squirm away. “You’re gonna give me one more.” His strong arms snaked around her waist, fixing her in place and pulling her closer to his mouth. He adjusted the angle of her hips slightly, giving himself better access, and heard her cry and scream.

“There it is. Can feel that you’re just on the edge. Let go. Give in. It’s okay.”

And she did. Letting out a guttural cry as she came again, shaking violently underneath him, not a single throw pillow was still on the couch by the time that he was done with her.

***

Matty kneeled by her feet, undid the strap of her heels, one foot at a time, and took her shoes in his hand.

“Shall we hit the showers?” He stood up, sticking his free hand out for her to take.

She let him pull her up to her feet, and then into the side of his body. She held on to him tightly. She wasn’t sure how much of it was necessary and how much was just that she enjoyed being fussed over by him.

Matty looked up above him. “You know there are cameras in this place.” He giggled.

“Oh! That reminds me!”

She rushed to the control board as they walked past them on their way backstage.

“What’re you-“ Matty watched her eject a USB. “You recorded-“

She looked up at him, winking. “I’ll send you a copy. Not now though. When you’re touring Europe without me and feeling lonely.”

[shelbyssins]

HI 💕 I loved Home so much and I was wondering if I could request something?? I had this idea of Tommy x Reader where reader was like a one that got away situation with pre-war Tommy and she married someone else but her husband dies during the war but Tommy didn’t ever know that he just thought she was married.. so time passes and they meet again then you can choose the ending!! Happy or sad you can choose, I hope this makes sense English is not my first language lol!! And if this doesn’t inspire you that’s okay too but know I love your work and am excited to see what you write next!!!💕😇😇

Seasons Change, People Don't ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Language, a sprinkling of angst

Word Count: 6,880

A/N: So this past week or so has just been insanely busy for me and I was struggling to find time to finish this request but here it finally is! I wanted to make this a little more light hearted than my previous request and the idea of Tommy and reader's relationship changing through the seasons really stuck with me so I hope you enjoy! I will be posting some shorter form one shots this week with some different characters so watch out for those! As always, if you read this, let me know what you think! - Rosie x

-

June 1912

“Tommy!” Y/n shrieked as she bounded over to her friend in the stables. The summer sun was breaking through the thin cover of cloud that drifted over the fields today. Y/n watched as Tommy’s eyes met hers, a soft smile playing on his lips when he recognised her. Y/n pressed a kiss to Tommy’s cheek, smacking her lips louder than she needed to because she knew it wound him up. He made an exaggerated show of wiping the spot she’d kissed and Y/n punched him lightly in response, he laughed gently, feigning hurt as he rubbed his arm. 

Tommy was reverently brushing his mare, a bay horse who’s coat gleamed like copper coins under his attention. Tommy was a quiet man, never really as raucous as his brothers could be, but he laughed a lot, those soft little chuckles that never failed to make Y/n blush whenever she pulled one out of him. Tommy was a middle child, but Y/n knew he acted every bit the eldest. Having been blessed with intelligence, his head would soon be burdened with the crown of the Shelby family. Though he did laugh a lot, Y/n could often see the strain he felt as the head of the family, so it was nice to see him relaxed and in his own world. 

He was twenty two now, about a head taller than Y/n and she found him so frustratingly handsome. She watched as his solid muscles shifted beneath his crisp shirt with every movement over his mare’s back, all broad shoulders and quiet strength, it was no wonder he had every girl in Small Heath falling over themselves for the chance to go out with him, though he never seemed to care much. Despite the obvious physical attraction, Y/n’s favourite part of him was his bright blue eyes, shining like sapphires in the sun, like stormy seas in the shade. Y/n would like to pretend that she was better than all the other girls, far above so obviously throwing herself at Tommy; but it was hard to push down the magnificently huge crush she had on him when he gazed at her with those pools of blue. 

Y/n had known Tommy ever since she could remember, her mother was best friends with his Aunt, Polly Gray, they were practically sisters, and as her father had abandoned them before she was even born, the Shelby family pitched in to help wherever needed. Then, when Y/n was twelve years old, her mother passed and she’d lived with Polly ever since. She knew full well that Tommy only ever deemed her like a sister, but that didn’t stop her dreaming that he’d one day notice her affections. 

It didn’t help that Tommy always treated her like a child as well, chiding her when he’d seen her smoking for the first time, always referring to her and her friends as ‘the kids’. Y/n had hoped that now she was eighteen, Tommy might see her in a different light, might start treating her like an adult, but if anything he was even more overprotective. 

Just recently he’d refused to let her sit with him and his older brother, Arthur, in the Garrison, telling her, “It’s not proper for young ladies to listen to conversation like ours, you don’t want to be around us when we’re drinking anyway,”. It was kind of humiliating, especially when Arthur had laughed that booming laugh right in her face, so she gave up that night and trailed home, feeling every bit the little girl Tommy thought she was.

“You know, Mark’s been hanging around me a lot recently,” Y/n began, hoping that Tommy might get jealous if she talked about another guy, “Ada says she thinks he likes me,” 

Y/n got nothing more than a non committal grunt from Tommy, though his hands had stilled their work over his mare’s mane. 

“She thinks he’s going to ask me to go to the Garrison’s jazz night this weekend. As his date,” She added the clarification at the end, searching Tommy’s face for absolutely any reaction.

Tommy obviously wasn’t going to bite, so Y/n decided to try a more direct approach, “You know, if you asked me to go with you instead of him, I’d say yes,” 

For all the intelligence he apparently possessed, Tommy just looked at Y/n blankly, a puzzled eyebrow raised as he went back to grooming his horse.

“You know I don’t like jazz, Y/n,” Was all he said on the matter, and Y/n wondered if he really was that bad at picking up her hints or if he was ignoring her attempts at flirtation on purpose.

Y/n was beyond frustrated at the fact that Tommy just didn’t understand what she was trying to say, she had hoped distantly that maybe she had a head start on all the other girls who liked Tommy too; she knew him far better than they did after all. But maybe it was because they’d grown up together that Tommy couldn’t see her as a potential girlfriend, maybe she’d always be just a kid in his eyes. Maybe he had some misguided idea that he was protecting her feelings by pretending to be confused, because perhaps in reality he just wanted to reject her.

“Well maybe I’ll just say yes to Mark then,” Y/n snapped, all together fed up with trying to get her meaning across. She looked away from Tommy then, afraid that if he caught her eye that she’d start blushing. 

Tommy didn’t look up at her statement, just scratched at his horse’s ear as he said a bored, “Ok,” 

Y/n huffed, storming away in a barely contained stomping tantrum that would rival any fit Finn could throw. She felt utterly defeated as she walked away from Tommy, thoroughly embarrassed that she was a tiny bit jealous of a horse.

 March 1913

The sun was warm today, the first hints of spring blooming to bask in its light. The grass, damp with morning dew, caressed Y/n’s bare legs just below her skirt as she walked through the meadow in search of Tommy. Y/n knew he would be out here somewhere, desperate to get the family’s horses out in the fields for some exercise after the previous week’s relentless storms had kept them locked in the stables.

As she climbed her way over a short hill, Y/n’s eyes finally set on Tommy, who was standing under the shade of a tree, smoke from his cigarette billowing out of his mouth. Y/n ambled over, the closer she got she took in more of his appearance. He was dressed only in an undershirt tucked into his trousers, his suspenders hung loose by his legs. Tommy’s hair, not gelled down for once, flopped over by his ears. Y/n swallowed thickly as she remembered that she had a boyfriend waiting for her at home.

“Hi, Tommy,” She said softly, not wanting to startle him out of whatever daydream he seemed to be in.

“Y/n,” He replied simply, blowing some smoke in her face by way of greeting.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she waved the cloud of smoke away, faking a cough as she did.

“You got another one of those for me?” She asked with a gesture towards his cigarette, putting on the sweet voice she always used when she wanted something from Tommy.

He wordlessly opened his packet and she took one gratefully, leaning forward when Tommy flicked his lighter. Tommy moved in close to light Y/n’s cigarette for her, she held her breath as he did, wanting to avoid accidentally breathing in his dizzying scent of fresh soap and a hint of whiskey. Y/n took a long drag of the cigarette, having smoked almost half of it in one go when she finally exhaled. Tommy quirked an eyebrow at her obvious craving for the nicotine but didn’t comment.

Y/n relaxed her shoulders a little as she felt the effects of the smoke calm her rushing blood slightly, sagging against the tree as she pulled at the last dregs of the cigarette. Her mind wandered back to the problem at hand when she flicked the butt away into the grass. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure,” Tommy asked as he too finished his smoke.

Y/n sighed and looked off into the distance, her eyes finding two of the Shelby horses grazing at the far side of the field in the shade, “I think Mark is going to propose to me.”

She sighed out a breath and couldn’t stop the way her eyes immediately went to Tommy’s face, waiting for his reaction. Y/n had accepted months ago that Tommy wouldn't ever see her the way she wanted him to, so she shut the door on those feelings and kept them buried under Mark’s affections. But she couldn’t help but worry that the lock on her heart was too weak now that she spoke to Tommy about impending marriage, she was powerless to stop the small hope that Tommy might tell her to say no, knew she’d run right into his arms if he wanted her to.

“I’m not sure what light you think I’ll be able to shed on the matter,” Tommy responded, his bored voice grating on Y/n’s final nerve.

“I should’ve known you’d be no help,” She huffed, pushing away from the tree and smoothing her skirts with angry hands. She made to stomp off back across the field, like she always did when Tommy irritated her, but a warm hand circling the entirety of her wrist stopped her in her tracks.

“Alright, love, alright, stop your tantrum,” Tommy was barely concealing a laugh behind his hand, but Y/n could see the humour clearly in his twinkling eyes. 

“Shut up, Tommy,” Y/n replied, articulating her scowl with a harsh shove into Tommy’s side, “I’m just… not sure I want to marry him, at least, not so soon,” 

Tommy pushed his hair out of his eyes and seemed to consider for a moment, “Well, don’t you like him?” 

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Of course I like him, he’s sweet - kind to me, you know... Has a good job,” 

“Well there you go, if you like him, why can’t you marry him?” Tommy said, so matter of fact that Y/n might have thought he’d mulled this over before.

“That’s just the thing, Tom. I like him, sure. But I just described him like he’s a pet dog, not a potential husband,” Tommy snorts at that and Y/n can’t help the little giggle that escapes in response, “I just… I always thought I’d be madly in love with whoever I was to marry, I’m scared I’ll regret it if I say yes,” 

“What if you say no and regret it?” Tommy asked, his voice as soft as the breeze whispering over Y/n’s skin.

“You’re right. I don’t want to end up alone the rest of my life, and it’s not like anyone else is lining up for the chance to propose to me,” Y/n cringed at how obvious she sounded as she glanced at Tommy, she hunted for any change in those expressive eyes but came back disappointed when there was nothing. 

Tommy said nothing more, sensing that Y/n was deep in thought, so they stood there in comfortable silence as the sun climbed higher into the afternoon sky. 

Y/n felt bereft at the way her life had turned out. She and Ada used to dream of their weddings like all little girls did. They would excitedly tell each other all the details, what kind of dress they would wear, the colour of the bouquet they would hold, even the flavour of the wedding cake. They would clasp their little hands together and wish their dreams would come true, but there was one dream little Y/n never told Ada. The dream that a handsome blue eyed man would be waiting for her at the end of the aisle, he’d say she looked beautiful as he lifted her veil and they’d vow to belong to each other as long as they both lived.

Y/n's chest tightened sorrowfully as she felt that dream slipping through her fingers. No matter how tight she tried to hold onto it, she knew now that it would never come true.

“Come on,” Tommy spoke up, apparently done with the silence, “We can ride the horses back to the stables and I’ll see you home.”

Y/n felt pained by his words because they came from brotherly concern rather than the love she’d always wanted from him. He walked on ahead of her and Y/n closed her eyes, trying to find a way to barricade the door to her heart just a little more, so that maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much the next time Tommy smiled at her.

November 1913

Autumn came and went silently through the town of Small Heath. The residential area was completely taken up by dull houses and sooty factories, so Y/n always had to go searching for trees just beyond the cut if she wanted to see the change of the leaves before there weren’t any left. All that evidenced Autumn was a slight chill in the air and the constant heavy rain that deluged the narrow streets. 

Y/n and Mark had married in that quiet Autumn a month ago in a small ceremony attended by only Mark’s family and the Shelbys, including Tommy. Life since then had been sweet, Y/n had to admit. Mark absolutely doted on her, hanging on her every whim to keep her happy, and Y/n found herself a little besotted with being Mrs Mark Johnson too, much to her surprise. At the wedding reception, Tommy had done nothing more than offer a muttered congratulations and brood in the corner alone for the rest of the night. But for once in her life, Y/n couldn’t find it within herself to actually care what Tommy was doing, thoroughly intent on enjoying a day that was all about her.

Winter then took Autumn’s place. Freezing air bit at bare faces, the town blanketed by a persistent cover of grey cloud. Y/n pulled her coat even tighter around herself as she made her way to the Garrison, praying that she’d find Tommy there since he’d been putting great effort into avoiding her recently. As she neared the place she hoped she’d find the second oldest Shelby, Y/n felt firmly resolute about her plan to talk to him, as she knew his stubbornness all too well. She knew that he’d let the silence between them stretch on until the end of time if she didn’t do something about it. So she steeled herself as she reached the heavy doors of the Garrison and walked inside.

She was immediately hit by the familiar smell of stale alcohol and tobacco permeating the air, barely containing a shudder as her senses tried to get used to the offending scent. Y/n quickly scanned the main area and didn’t find her target, so she walked over to Harry, the barkeep, and smiled at him as he finished wiping a glass.

“Hi, Harry. Is Tommy here?” She asked, hoping he’d at least caught sight of him today.

“He’s in there,” Harry replied, glancing over at the snug and nodding in that direction.

“Thanks, Harry,” Y/n gave her best sweet smile as payment, feeling a little bad about not buying a drink.

She pulled open the door to the snug and felt triumphant as she finally laid eyes on Tommy. He didn’t even bother to try and conceal the heavy sigh he huffed when he made eye contact with her, strengthening Y/n’s resolve that she would confront him about his avoidance even further.

“Hello, Thomas,” Y/n opened the conversation, inviting herself to sit at the table with him. 

Tommy immediately brought out his pack of cigarettes, lit one and hastily shoved it between his lips as if he was trying to stop himself from speaking.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, smoke flowing out of his mouth with every word. 

Y/n was puzzled at the question, “Is this not a public place?” She asked her own question back but didn’t wait for a response, “I’ve been trying to meet with you for weeks now, Tommy, but you always had some convenient excuse to avoid me,”

Tommy kept his face even and calm, the only tell that he’d been found out being a minute twitch of his lip, “There’s always business to attend to these days, Y/n,” He offered his meagre reasoning, another hasty excuse to hopefully placate her.

“Business,” Y/n couldn’t help but scoff, “Tommy, we haven’t had a conversation as long as this one since my wedding!” She didn’t miss the way Tommy’s shoulders straightened at the mention of the wedding. Curious.

“Why have you really been avoiding me, Tom?” She asked, softening her voice a little in hopes that Tommy would be more liable to answer truthfully.

But just as he’d opened his mouth to speak, in waltzed Arthur, the very embodiment of awkward timing, barrelling in like a rearing stallion, voice booming as loud as gunfire. Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile that rose to her lips as Arthur pressed a rough kiss to the top of her head. 

“And how’s married life treating the new Mrs Johnson, eh?” Arthur articulated his thinly veiled innuendo with a suggestive wink.

“Just fine, thank you, Arthur,” Y/n replied with a smirk, quite enjoying the way Arthur’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, surprised that she’d actually played along.

“I bet there’ll be tiny little versions of you running around Small Heath in no time at all, eh, love?” He garbled around the cork of a whiskey bottle he’d pulled out with his teeth, pouring the amber liquid into his glass.

“Well, that might not actually be the case,” Y/n smiled a little sadly, watching as Tommy sat up a little straighter, quirking a confused brow as a means to ask her to explain.

“Mark has been looking at a property in the countryside, about an hour away from here. If nobody outbids us we’ll be moving come New Year,” Y/n looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting themselves into knots as she tried to avoid Tommy’s penetrating eyes.

Arthur hummed but didn’t say anything on the matter, and Y/n knew Tommy wasn’t going to offer anything new, recognising that the contemplative look on his face meant silence for the foreseeable. So she felt compelled to continue on explaining herself.

“With all this talk of war getting closer and closer to us, we really want to settle down and start a family sooner rather than later,” She rambled, feeling a little interrogated even though neither man had said anything yet. 

As Y/n flicked her eyes over to Tommy apprehensively, she saw that his jaw was completely set and he was gripping his whiskey glass so tight that his knuckles were white and his fist was shaking a little. 

Y/n looked at him quizzically, trying to make him meet her eyes by some sort of telepathy, but Tommy’s gaze remained firmly fixed on his alcohol. She couldn’t understand why he’d be angry with her about this, her move hadn’t come as a shock to anyone who actually spoke to her often; it had been on the cards pretty much as soon as they were married. Maybe it was because Tommy thought she’d be happier here, maybe it was because he didn’t like her husband; how was she to know if he rebuffed her every attempt at communication?

Silence continued on for a minute before Arthur, characteristically oblivious to the tension, piped up again, “Well! The countryside, eh? Sounds marvellous, love,”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, as if in disbelief, and shook his head, dragging on the last fragments of his cigarette. Y/n muttered a quiet thanks to Arthur as he stood, saying something about another bottle of whiskey from his private collection to celebrate. Her eyes followed Arthur’s slightly drunken gait as he made his way out of the snug.

“Thomas, why are you sulking at me?” She interrogated immediately as the door shut.

Tommy stamped out his cigarette in the ash try, “I’m not sulking,” he replied, frowning.

“Well, you’re doing an excellent impression,” Y/n countered, sighing when Tommy’s lips didn’t even attempt a smile, “I just don’t understand why you can’t even pretend to be happy for me at least,”

Tommy’s shoulders sagged at that and he finally lifted his head up to meet Y/n’s eyes, “Don’t get upset ok?” He began carefully, and just by his tone of voice, Y/n knew she absolutely was going to get upset, “I just didn’t think you’d marry so soon, especially after our conversation in spring, you said he was like a pet dog, not a husband. Now all of a sudden you’re moving away? I know you Y/n, you love our town, what if you hate it in the country?”

Y/n’s face flushed hot, she was utterly incensed that Tommy thought these things about her marriage and apparently just chose to never say a word about it, “Firstly, if I remember correctly about that conversation in spring, you offered me no actually helpful advice when I was obviously asking for it!” Y/n was careful not to shout, so her voice came out like a hiss, “Then you practically encouraged me to marry him! Now you want to act as if you’re the font of all knowledge when it comes to my marriage.”

Tommy bit his lip and scrubbed a rough hand over his face, the way he did when he was trying not to get angry, “I just can’t help but think that your decisions have been too hasty, Y/n,” he supplied, any sweetness in his voice long gone.

The words wounded Y/n deeper than anything he’d said to her before, she felt the tears pricking at her eyes as she tried not to show that she was upset. All she’d ever wanted was this married life with him, but now that she’d moved on and accepted that it was never going to happen, Tommy chose to criticise her every decision, blissfully ignorant of the fact that she had worked so hard to get over him.

“I could hardly wait for you forever, Tom,” Y/n whispered, suddenly feeling exhausted as all the memories of her relationship with Tommy flashed in front of her eyes, she couldn’t help but feel it was such a waste, pining after him for all that time. Such a waste to crave the affections of a man who didn’t pay enough attention to her to notice she was utterly in love with him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tommy finally said, looking away from Y/n’s tearful eyes.

“If you had such strong opinions on the choices I made, who I was going to marry, where I was going to live, maybe you should’ve voiced them while you still could’ve done something about it,” Y/n stood as soon as she finished her speech, walking towards the door when she was certain Tommy wasn’t going to speak again.

Tommy didn’t call after her when she left.

February 1917

The fire crackled distantly as Y/n stared blankly into the flames, amber light casting lonely shadows onto the walls of her cottage home. The room was near silent, but the thud of her heart in her ears was almost deafening. 

She clutched a telegram in her trembling hands and didn't bother to fight her tears as she read it for the fourth or fifth time, hoping this time she might make sense of the words written there on the page. But she didn’t know whether she couldn’t understand the sentences or just couldn’t believe the words were true.

Before the war hit England in July 1914, Y/n and Mark had spent a wonderfully happy, albeit short, married life. A few months before Mark was shipped off to France like every other man fit to fight, he worked as a clerk in the postal office of their little village, while Y/n looked after their house. She tended the garden too and often found peace planting flowers and thinking up new arrangements. Mark would come home every evening and greet Y/n with a kiss on her cheek before they sat down to eat dinner. Life was peaceful and picture perfect, no fighting, no drunkards lining the streets, no constant threat of crime. Y/n would be lying if she said she didn’t miss the chaos of Small Heath at least a little bit, but somewhere between their move to the country and Mark’s constant devotion, Y/n well and truly fell in love with him.

Now, as Y/n looked around her desolate sitting room, she realised she had absolutely nothing to prove that their love had ever happened. No matter how hard they had tried, God wouldn’t bless them with a child, and in the suffocating silence of this house, Y/n suddenly ached with longing to hear the patter of little feet running into her arms. At least she’d be comforted by the knowledge that a piece of their father resided still in this cottage, could look at their faces and still see his eyes looking back. But there was nothing, just utter loneliness.

Up until now, Y/n had grasped at any small shred of hope that Mark would return, ever since he left three years ago. She wrote to him every week, prayed for him every night, even though she wasn’t sure there was anyone listening anymore. She wished for his safe return and dreamed of the day he would warm their bed again. But now, there was no hope left in all the Earth that Y/n could beg for. There was no marriage, no husband to speak of as Y/n sat completely alone in this world, still clinging to that damned letter, her tears ruining the ink that spelled the end of her life.

Mark Johnson - Killed In Action.

July 1919

Y/n stepped off the train and took a heaving breath in as she tried to calm her nerves. Tendrils of anxiety curled around her chest as she carefully walked up the steps to leave the station, she knew she was only a short walk away from her home town and the odd need to run away was rising through her body.  

Only the month prior, Y/n had sold her cottage in the countryside, finally accepting that nothing was keeping her tied to that place anymore, accepting that she couldn’t fit in without Mark. In the village, every corner she turned was a reminder of her husband, the route he used to walk to work, their favourite spot in the park, the station where she'd kissed him for the last time. She twisted her wedding ring around her finger nervously, she’d kept it on even after Mark's memorial service, it seemed a simple service she could do her husband to wear it, to remember him every day.

Y/n decided to rent a flat just down the road from where she’d grown up, and the familiarity of the streets comforted her as she entered her new home, dropping her few belongings in the hallway. It wasn’t much, but as a woman alone Y/n didn’t really see the point of buying a big house with no one else to keep her company. She sagged against the door, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to get a whiskey, so she decided to leave the flat for a while and hoped that the Garrison would clear her head.

Almost as soon as she opened the door to the pub, Y/n could hear John’s familiar voice shouting over to someone at the bar and her eyes immediately landed on all of the Shelbys sat around a table, drinking various spirits and pints of ale. The relief she felt as she counted the boys and noted that they were all intact and alive was brief, she couldn't believe her bad luck that she had run into every Shelby the minute she set foot back in Small Heath. Y/n quickly scurried up to the bar, hopefully unnoticed by the family, deciding that she definitely wasn't having this reunion sober.

She had barely taken a sip of her whiskey when a voice called to her from across the room, "Well isn't this a sight for sore bloody eyes," Y/n heard Polly's familiar drawl and didn't need to look up from her glass to know all the attention was suddenly on her. Y/n gave up on the dainty sipping and knocked back the rest of her whiskey as the Shelbys began to descend like vultures to their prey. She focussed on the way the alcohol spread through her body, warming her and giving her that little bit more confidence as she gave a tight hug to her surrogate mother, "Hi, Pol," she said with a smile.  

"Now what the 'ell are you doing back 'ere, love?" Arthur spoke as he nodded to the barkeep to refill your glass.

Y/n sighed, overwhelmed by the sudden questioning even though it was only Arthur who had asked anything, "You ok?" Polly whispered, squeezing her arm. Y/n nodded quickly and took another gulp of whiskey, "I wasn't counting on seeing you all so suddenly, I only got here half an hour ago!" She laughed nervously, "But now's as good a time as any to say I've moved back here. Surprise!" There was a chorus of congratulations and happy remarks, but there was only one person's face Y/n searched for, and she finally felt like she was home when she found Tommy's blue eyes.

He looked different, older definitely, but there was a cold harshness in his eyes that Y/n had never seen before. She shivered at what those eyes might have seen in France.

"It's good to have you back round here, Y/n," Tommy said lowly, and Y/n felt like everyone else in the room had faded away as she let Tommy's presence wash over her.

"Let's get a bottle to celebrate!" Arthur boomed, ruffling her hair like he did when she was a child, "Where's that husband of yours?" Y/n sucked in a sharp breath at the tactless question, fighting back tears as she tried to remember that it wasn't their fault if they didn't know Mark had passed.

"Probably at home looking after the kids, eh, Y/n?" John chimed in, nausea rising in Y/n's stomach as she tried to get a word in edgewise before someone said something they would regret.

"Nah, he's probably avoiding the pub, you know he can't handle his booze," Tommy was the one to pipe up that time and Y/n hated the cruel edge to his laugh, she'd hoped he'd grown up enough to get over his childish dislike of her husband.

"Tommy," Polly warned in that low, threatening voice of hers, picking up on Y/n's quickened breathing and tearful eyes. But Tommy carried on laughing, oblivious to his Aunt's insistence that they stop making fun, "You have to admit, he's always been a bit of a boring bastard," and there was the last straw. Before she'd even told her arm to move, Y/n's hand was flying at Tommy's face, slapping him right across the cheek so hard his head actually looked like it might detach from his neck. It happened so quickly Y/n wasn't quite sure if she had actually done it or not, but the boys had stopped laughing instantaneously, and the way Polly physically flinched told her she had genuinely just smacked Tommy Shelby. "How dare you," Y/n hissed before she could think better of it, her voice cold as steel, "My husband is dead, Thomas, have some fucking respect," The entire pub had gone silent, all staring intently at the scene unfolding, but wincing at Y/n's words, like they were watching a car accident happen right in front of them, too morbidly curious to look away. To his credit, John looked thoroughly ashamed of himself even though he hadn't said anything insulting and Arthur's eyes looked like they might pop out of his head, Y/n might have laughed had the cause been different. "Y/n, love, I'm sorry, we-" Arthur reached out as if to comfort her, but he cut off his sentence when Y/n flinched away from his touch, too overwhelmed to be crowded by him. She didn't know when she'd started to cry, but tears were flooding down her cheeks and pooling on the floorboards at her feet.

"Right. John, Arthur? Time to go," Polly insisted, ever the observant one, she knew that Tommy and Y/n had some talking to do. Neither man moved at first, but all it took was for Polly to level them with her menacing glare and they were hurrying out of the pub faster than a horse at full gallop.

Tommy and Y/n stood in silence for a moment, Y/n being too scared to speak because she desperately didn't want to acknowledge that she'd just slapped him.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry," Tommy finally whispered, and his voice was so genuinely sincere that it broke the final shred of dignity that Y/n cared to hold onto, and she started to cry louder than she had even let herself cry at Mark's memorial. Tommy opened his arms and that was all the prompting Y/n needed to fall straight into his chest, she sniffled as he cradled her head against his steadily beating heart, he shushed her softly and held her tight, "Come on now, love, let's go in the other room yeah? We can talk away from all the prying eyes,"

Y/n allowed herself to be led into the snug, struck by how familiar it was even after all these years, Tommy lowered her carefully onto the couch, as if he was afraid she might fall over.

"I'm sorry for hitting you, Tommy," Y/n babbled as soon as her breathing evened out, "It's not your fault, you didn't know Mark was dead,"

Tommy rubbed his cheek and smiled lightly, "Don't apologise, I deserved it. You've got some power in that hand, you know? Not sure any man has ever hit me that hard," Y/n giggled despite herself, sniffing and wiping at her face to dry the tears.

"So how come you're moving back here?" Tommy asked as she sagged into the couch, he avoided asking about Mark's death, sensing that she'd talk about it in her own time.

"Everything back at the village just reminds me of him, I couldn't stand it. Every time I left the house I couldn't stop thinking about how I waved him off to France, to fucking war, and didn't know he was never coming back. So I just isolated myself, only left the house to buy food, never made any friends because I couldn't bring myself to walk around without him by myside, I couldn't walk around as if nothing had happened," Tommy just hummed, knowing there was more to say and just waiting for Y/n to go on, "So when I finally sold the house, I decided to make a new start somewhere I knew would be easy to fit in,"

"You were right, you know," Y/n laughed into the quiet of the room, "I really did miss it round here. I missed how unpredictable it was, the routine of the village was hard to get used to but..." She teared up all over again as her husband's smiling face flashed in her mind, "I really did love him,"

"I'm sorry," was all Tommy said as Y/n swallowed around the lump in her throat.

"I didn't think I'd fall in love with him so deeply. At the start, my main reason for marrying him was because I thought I had no other option," Y/n confessed, not entirely sure why she was spilling all of her secrets to the man she used to love.

"I always thought you liked him a lot either way," Tommy said, a confused edge to his tone, "You used to talk about him constantly,"

Y/n laughed a genuine laugh at that, reminded suddenly of herself at seventeen, "I only talked about him so much because I thought it would make you jealous,"

Tommy's head shot up at that, and Y/n was once again concerned about the structural integrity of his neck, "Jealous?" He reiterated, pausing the rolling of a new cigarette to stare at Y/n expectantly.

"Yeah, I used to hint at you all the time about my very massive crush on you. But for all the good your intelligence apparently does, you never got it. Or, you know, you were just trying to let me down gently,"

Tommy looked like he was about to choke, or possibly stop breathing all together, "Hold on, you liked me?"

Y/n rolled her eyes at Tommy, assuming he was overreacting on purpose, "I know, it's embarrassing Tommy, don't make fun of me. But yes, I didn't just like you. I loved you, Tommy, ever since I was eleven,"

"Oh my god," Tommy breathed, suddenly struggling to get his rolling paper to stick.

"What? There's no need to be dramatic, Thomas," Y/n said, voice snippy due to her slight mortification.

"I just... I liked you too, for years, but I thought you didn't have any feelings for me since you were going out with Mark,"

Y/n was sure her blood had turned cold in her veins, either that or someone must have dumped a bucket of ice over her head, "Are you serious right now? Tommy, you should've just told me! I was being so obvious with my hints and you just refused to see it!"

Tommy looked indignant as he gave up on rolling his cigarette, "Well, why didn't you just tell me!" Y/n couldn't deny that that was an excellent point, "Anyway, I was sure someone as beautiful as you couldn't possibly have feelings for someone like me,"

Y/n slumped in her seat, overwhelmed by the revelations, she smiled as she imagined how she would've reacted to this information when she was a teenager all those years ago.

"Oh, Tommy, you're an idiot!" Tommy started to laugh and Y/n couldn't help soon joining in, feeling weightless for the first time since the war. She gazed into Tommy's eyes again, searched for the same look they'd had when he was in his early twenties, even though she knew she wouldn't find it. He'd changed so much, they both had, but in that moment she wondered if they really could just be the same two kids who loved each other so much, couldn't help but wonder how their lives would've played out if they'd both had the courage to admit their feelings.

Y/n didn't know when it happened, but their faces were suddenly only a hair's width apart, she could feel his breath whispering over her mouth, he smelled sweet despite the tobacco that clung to him. Y/n's eyes fluttered closed out of instinct, her heart thudding as she let herself be intoxicated by Tommy's entire being. But just as their noses touched, she sprung away from Tommy like he'd burned her.

"I'm sorry, that was-"

"No, don't apologise," Y/n cut him off before he could start spiralling, "Tommy... I've loved you since the day I met you, and... I think I always will love you, no matter what happens, or what has happened. You mean the world to me," she stared at her hands, afraid of the vulnerability she felt as she laid her heart at Tommy's feet, "But you have to understand... I loved my husband too, and I can't help but feel like I'm betraying him, because I'm falling for you so fast all over again. I'd - I'd feel so guilty if I rushed into something with you when he loved me so much before he passed. I can't just forget him."

"I won't ask you to," Tommy replied, tentatively putting his warm hand on Y/n's knee, making her look up at him, "But I have loved you too, and I love you right now, and I'll love you tomorrow. I won't ever be able to forgive myself if I let you get away again, not now that I know you feel the same. I want to be with you, whenever you're ready. We can take it slow,"

Y/n was breathless, like all the air in the room had suddenly been sucked out, she was completely consumed by thousands of thoughts running through her head all at once, "What does slow look like?" She whispered, entirely swept up by the ocean of love in Tommy's eyes.

"It starts like this," He murmured softly, taking Y/n by the hand and brushing his lips against her knuckles, "Then it might continue if you'll accompany me to dinner soon?"

"I'd like that Tommy," Y/n replied, a wave of relief flowing through her body, grateful that she could find love again at her own pace.

Tommy leaned in slowly and placed the most gentle and reverent kiss on Y/n's cheek, looking so deeply into her eyes that she thought he might be gazing directly at her soul, his voice was full of adoration as he said, "I promise I won't ever let you go,"

[factual-fantasy]

Salutations Factual! I really wanted to say, I was completely blown away by your new pixel art collages! I've always really liked pixel art, both simple and complex (even though I'm no good at it) and it's sweet to see you're so skilled at it! As always, keep on drawing whatever it is that you want to draw, but it would be sweet to see some more pixel in the future!

Also, thank you so, so much for answering my last few questions regarding your Pokemon team! I just love those guys so much- and I'm glad to hear they are the very least understand that not all humans are bad- they just tend to attract trouble!

Speaking of which, thanks especially for answering my older ask regarding a potential Hydreigon encounter- I really liked your idea of Gloria, as always, recklessly taking one for the team! In fact, I liked it so much, it gave me a sweet story idea- which, if you don't mind, I would like to "pitch" to you, even if just for fun!

So- what if, during their time in the dark woods, the "worst case scenario" does happen- while still recovering from the Trevenant battle, the gang is ambushed by the forests apex predator- a savage Hydreigon! After Which, Gloria, much to the team's protests, attempts to distract their attacker and lead it away- in the process being near fatally wounded and cornered. However, her cries of pain do not go unheard- as nearby, perhaps in a cave or some other remote location- is none other than Baragara the Metagross- while in the midst of another frightful anxiety attack due to his conflicting brains, perhaps with Patty by his side- he distantly hears the sounds of a Pokemon in need- at which all his brains agree on one thing- they need to help! Then, swiftly as possible, he would jump into the forest below, and aid Gloria by facing down his fellow, rampaging pseudo legendary... Eventually, despite sustaining serious damage, he would triumph, and chase off the beast- just as the rest of Gloria's friends arrive!

And that's my pitch for how the team would meet Baragara and Patty! Sorry for the paragraph- I know you prefer to write your own stories, and probably already have a much better idea for how they meet- but I just wanted to give it a shot, and see what you think! ( Also, I forgot to mention it earlier, thank you a thousand for drawing low Polly Grimace- absolutely made my week! )

Hello! I'm glad to hear you've been liking my pixel art! :DD And that you got a kick out of low polly Grimace XDD

AND HOLY COW!! What an action packed way to be reunited with their old friend Patty! And of course, meet their new friend Baragara! Originally I just had a passing thought of Gloria sensing Patty's aura nearby and them reuniting that way. But I like your idea more! XD

Thinking about how Baragara would handle that situation though.. I wonder. He was supposed to be a normal functioning Metagross. But after having a traumatizing near death experience where he miiiight have suffered some kind of brain damage...? He just wasn't quite the same anymore. I wonder how he would handle a dangerous battle.. maybe his instinct would be to flee? :0 Who knows..

Either way, this ask got me thinking about my team again and has given me a few drawing ideas XDD So thank you!! :}}}

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Game of Thrones AU - Lucy x Tommy

As with The Hunger Games AU, it'll be awhile until I am able to actually turn this into a full fledged fic. So I'm gonna give you all some of my ideas here instead. Obviously if you don't want to be spoiled for when I do eventually write a full thing out of this for them, don't read ahead.

Lucy Bolton

Firstborn of Victor Bolton and Genevieve Tully, the eldest sister of Theodore, Elliot, Patrick, and William Bolton.

Despite her father's best attempts, Lucy maintained a tomboyish spirit.

A lover of horseback riding and archery, she could often be found riding amongst the woods surrounding their castle of Dreadfort, with her several trusty dogs in tow.

She showed an interest in ruling from an early age, but was mostly shut out from anything to do with it by her father.

During the particularly cold seasons, her mother would take her on trips with her to Riverrun, hoping that the influence of her family would help to lessen the damage her father's cruelty would have on her.

Lucy became close with her Tully family members, to the point that she identifies more as a Tully than a Bolton.

Tommy Targaryen

The second Targaryen son

Tommy was often treated as a black sheep, both by some of his family and the common people, due to him lacking traditional Targaryen looks.

Rumors often circulated about him being a bastard.

Often butts heads with others at court.

Despite this, he and Arthur are close, with Arthur giving him a significant position at court.

I feel like Arthur would likely make him hand of the king at some point.

Tommy often makes a habit of visiting other places in the kingdom to check in on things.

His dragon's name is Syndor (meaning shadow in High Valyrian). He is huge and fearsome looking, with pitch black scales that make him almost invisible at night. He has lots of sharp spines all over particularly his back. Tommy claimed him at a young age.

Tommy has the strongest bond with his dragon out of all of his siblings.

Tommy loves dragons and would have liked to have worked with them had he not had his princely duties.

Tommy loves flying on Syndor and will often take him out flying when he needs to think or just wants to be alone.

Lucy x Tommy

During one of his annual visits to the north, Lucy caught the eye of Prince Thomas Targaryen.

It did not take long for Tommy to start to court her, and he began to make more and more visits to the north in order to see her.

They managed to keep their relationship a secret, despite Lucy's constant nighttime visits to Tommy's bedchambers when he stayed at Dreadfort, or the moon tea she would consume afterwards.

Her fascination with his dragon (not a euphemism) made Tommy fall even harder for her. Syndor adores her and will often try to nuzzle at her.

Tommy would take Lucy out flying on Syndor often, both during and after their courtship.

Just as Tommy was preparing to convince his family to allow him to marry Lucy, her father promised her away to Matthew Lannister, the cruel heir to Casterly Rock.

Despite Genevieve's attempts to dissuade him from the match, Victor was against Lucy marrying Tommy due to his status as a second son, and questions that had been raised about his legitimacy as a Targaryen.

Genevieve wrote to Tommy informing him of Victor and Matthew's plans, and he flew to Dreadfort, arriving but a day before the wedding was to take place.

He and Lucy were married hastily that night by the heart tree, with Genevieve as a witness and Lucy's brother Teddy taking the place of her father as the one to give her away.

A fight nearly broke out the next day once Victor and Matthew were made aware of what happened.

Victor tried to disown Lucy.

She flew with Tommy back to King's Landing.

Victor would continue to cause problems. Every time he does so, Tommy suggests (only half joking) that they feed him to Syndor.

Polly nearly had an aneurysm when she found out that Tommy had gotten married, since she had been scheming to marry him off to a noblewoman at court.

This caused some issues and original awkwardness with Lucy and the rest of the family, but Arthur warmed to her fast and Tommy advocated for her to have a place on the council alongside him.

Okay that's probably more than enough for now! I might post more later and I've got some moodboards I'll share with you all soon as well.

Tagging my moots how have been playing in this AU with me!

@justrainandcoffee, @call-sign-shark, @evita-shelby, @peakyswritings

[zablife]

Green Gloves (Part 2)

Summary: Ada learns a bit more about Irene's family history as the girls' shenanigans continue.

Author's Note: If you'd like to see the way I picture Irene's family, check out her details here.

Warnings: mention of injury, death, underage drinking, vomiting

Part 1

Peering inside the quiet stillness of the betting shop, Irene gulped at the thought of crossing the threshold into the Shelbys’ lair. It wasn’t only the late hour that made her uneasy, she always had an eery feeling of being watched in this mysterious place.

When she first mentioned this to Ada, her observation was met with a dismissive chuckle and an explanation that it was only Aunt Polly’s traditions that made their home seem different. "I don't believe the superstitions and neither should you!" Ada had advised.

It was easier said than done when faced with the reality, however. Irene's head snapped at the slightest sound, her trembling voice echoing against Ada's back. “I don’t like this,” in a disapproving tone. Desperate fingers grappling at her friend’s elbow, she attempted to draw Ada from the double doors she knew to be strictly off limits.

“Why? Scared of the dark? Or Aunt Pol’s curses?” Ada teased, wriggling free of her grasp and quickly slipping inside. 

Eventually losing sight of her friend and unwilling to follow, Irene stood rooted to the spot just outside the door. Eyes trailing toward the cracked ceiling, she strained to listen for footsteps indicating the formidable Polly Gray would appear to punish them.

The sudden twitch of her limbs revealed her state of anxiety, realizing she’d been holding her breath when the light headedness caused her to sway on her feet. Stumbling backward against the kitchen table, she propped herself up against the far end and silently cursed Ada for whatever errand was taking so long. 

Though she wasn’t sure how long she might be waiting, Irene didn’t dare take a seat, her discomfort in her surroundings gnawing fiercely at her insides. She briefly thought of tidying the cluttered surface in front of her, hands reaching for a dirty teacup when she noticed the curious sight of Polly’s bible and rosary next to a stack of brightly decorated cards.

She hadn’t known what they were a few weeks ago, but now she had a rudimentary understanding of tarot. Ada explained her aunt gave readings as a way to provide solace to war widows and those clinging to the hope they wouldn’t soon fall victim. Though Irene hadn't decided how she felt about the practice, it was a detail about Ada's family Irene thought best not to mention to her devoutly religious mother.

A scuffle across the floorboards indicated Ada was returning from her mission, her triumphant whisper echoing through the corridor. “Found it!" Ada announced proudly as she beckoned Irene. "Time to go."

Irene didn’t ask what she was carrying in the small sack at her side. In all honesty, she didn’t care what Ada had come for, only that they were free to leave. 

—————————-

“This is why we broke into your aunt’s shop?” Irene accused, her voice pitching higher than intended at the shock of seeing a whisky bottle peeking out from the edges of burlap.

“Shhh! Keep your voice down! Do you want your mum to catch us?” Ada scolded. 

Irene clamped a hand over her mouth, peering into the hall before closing the door to her room. “S no crime to take somefin' from your own house,” came Ada's muffled reply, teeth clenched around the cork of the bottle to dislodge it.

Overcome with curiosity, Irene peered over Ada's shoulder asking, “Where did you find it?”

“Arthur...stashed... a bottle in...his office,” Ada struggled to reply, continuing to tug at the stubborn cork before eventually freeing it with a satisfying pop. She took a swig and recoiled at the burn at the back of her throat, then extended the bottle to Irene.

As Irene held the glass between her palms, she stared into the foul smelling liquid with trepidation. “Who’s Arthur?” she asked before taking a small sip and sliding the bottle back to Ada with a shiver.

Hands hovering at the neck, Ada’s fingers stilled momentarily and she seemed to hold her breath. Irene thought she detected a brief flicker of sadness in her eyes before she blinked it away with her usual irreverence. Her head bobbed slightly as she huffed out a little chuckle, “According to Polly, he’s an ignorant git who causes too much trouble."

As Ada drank some more, Irene studied her face for any sign she might continue, but the moment had seemingly passed. Attempting to hide the overexcited tremble in her voice, Irene ventured, “Is he your sweetheart?” 

Laughter punctuated the silence, Ada’s shoulders shaking uncontrollably as she fell over, one hand clutching her mouth to stifle her soft snorts.

Irene looked on in utter confusion and slight annoyance. “What’s so funny?” she asked.

Pushing onto her elbows, Ada attempted to sit upright as she continued to chuckle, “That’s something Arthur’s never been called before!” Wiping a tear from her eye, she repeated, “sweetheart.” As Irene waited for an explanation, Ada waved her hand dismissively, “He’s my older brother.”

“Oh, of course,” Irene sighed, a note of relief evident in her voice. “You’d only mentioned John,” she added quickly, remembering the little house with tow headed children playing outside.

“I hadn’t meant to hide it. Honestly, I think I forget sometimes now that they’ve been away so long,” Ada uttered softly. Clearing her throat of any lingering sentiment, she explained, “There’s Arthur, Tommy and John besides me and Finn.” Sweeping the hair from her eyes, she asked, “And the Robinsons? Are there more brothers you’ve kept secret from me?” With a teasing wink, she passed the bottle back to her friend.

Irene shook her head as she tipped it against her lips, a dribble of amber liquid spilling down her chin. Wiping it away quickly to keep it from falling onto her dress, she was too preoccupied to stop herself from confessing, “Father would have preferred sons, but Martin’s the only one. What a disappointment for him, eh?” 

As soon as she locked eyes with Ada’s curious stare, she pressed her lips together tightly. However, she had to admit the catharsis of saying the words aloud for the first time. Taking another gulp of whisky, she noted how little it burned now, the sudden warmth lapping at her spine to coax the truth from her with ease. 

"I'm not sure what the point of it was, following the rules when Martin ignored them,” she snorted softly at the memory of the spirited disagreements between father and son, especially when Martin told them he intended to enlist. “Mum always said they could fight about everything and nothing, too alike for their own good."

Her gaze shifted to Martin’s books stacked by her bed, the beloved volumes entrusted to her care before his departure. She exhaled deeply, staving off the blooming ache in her chest at the notion of her loved ones assembled for the last time. A distant look in her eye, she confided quietly, “Sometimes I wonder if he might be alive if it weren't for Martin.”

"I don't understand," Ada admitted with a look of concern.

“He couldn’t bear to hear his only son had been gravely wounded, so he collapsed. Everyone says it was a weakened heart, but I think it was a broken one," Irene nodded softly to herself. "It's as though it only beat for one person." The rest of us weren't enough, she added in her mind, but the tears collecting along her lash line conveyed the sentiment.

Ada reached to grasp her friend’s hand in the darkness, giving a gentle squeeze. She'd never given much thought to Arthur Sr's opinion of her, but it was clear Irene's needs were different. There would always be a piece of her which craved the love and attention Mr. Robinson gave so freely to her brother.

Looking down at their interlaced fingers, Irene's heart swelled at the closeness and comfort. There hadn’t been much in the past year, her mum busying herself with the business of carrying on like the dutiful wife and mother she'd always been. Irene often thought how easy a decision it would be to trade this life for her old one, even with the squabbles and slights.

“Is your family close?” Irene asked suddenly, hazel eyes glistening with hope.

“Always within striking distance,” Ada smirked, earning a bubble of laughter from Irene.

“Can't be helped really with a family business," she explained with a shrug. "Arthur runs the betting shop with Tommy and John working under him,” she repeated, knowing the order of things as Polly had explained them many times over. It was important to know, lest others get the wrong impression while they were away that things would be any different after the war.

Irene suddenly felt a cold chill run down her spine at the thought of the infamous Shelby temper, head snapping toward the half empty bottle in her hand. “Shouldn’t we save the rest for Arthur if he comes looking?” 

“Nah, fuck him!” Ada snickered, stealing it for another swig. 

“Are you so sure he won’t return for it?” Irene laughed as her hand fell across Ada's in a disjointed attempt to grab at the bottle. She froze the moment the words left her mouth, fingertips brushing along Ada's knuckles as she relinquished her hold. “I’m so sorry, Ada. I'm not sure why I said that," she murmured in apology.

She felt her stomach lurch, threatening to overturn its contents and turned away from Ada with downcast eyes. "I've had too much,” she gestured to the bottle, hanging her head in shame.

“S’alright,” Ada replied, eyes glazing over from her own indulgence. With a wave of her hand she continued, "Pol says whisky is good proofing water." Placing her palm against Irene's back she added earnestly, "You're a good person."

Irene shifted, burying her head in her friend’s shoulder and inhaled the sweet scent of rose water with a hint of the unique tea in Aunt Polly's cupboards.

"Are you like her?" Irene wondered aloud.

"Hmmm?"

"Have you seen...things... in the cards, I mean?"

"Never tried," Ada admitted. "Nor the tea leaves."

"What's that?"

"Surely you noticed all the cups," Ada muttered. "Pol reads the leaves left over, to tell the future."

"She can?"

"So she claims. Predicted the death of our neighbor two years ago," Ada proclaimed before furrowing her brow with newfound concentration. "Come to think of it, she could have predicted your father's death...if you'd known her then, of course."

Irene shook her head violently. "No, I wouldn't have wanted to know."

"Really?" Ada asked, eyebrows raised. "I'd want to know if my old man dropped dead. Might throw a party," she grinned at the thought of the selfish bastard dying alone somewhere. However, the joke was lost on poor Irene who sat in heavy silence.

"F-forget I said anything," Ada stuttered awkwardly, hoping Irene would leave that particular conversation for another day. To her relief, exhaustion was quickly overtaking her friend, Irene's eyelids drooping beneath the weight of impending sleep. Her limbs growing heavy, she allowed her body to sink into Ada's side with a small sigh of satisfaction. Arm slung across Ada's waist, her breathing slowed and she found herself drifting toward peaceful slumber.

That is, until Ada suddenly jolted her awake.

“What is it? My mum?” Irene said, rubbing her eyes.

“I think I know what will cheer us up,” Ada suggested, rising to her feet.

“I don’t want any more whisky,” Irene protested, holding up a hand.

Ada only giggled as she took Irene by the arm and lead her out the door toward her mother’s shop. 

“We can't go down there!” Irene hissed.

“I just want to try on a few dresses. Please, Irene!” Ada begged.

All fight gone from her body, Irene gave in with one stipulation, “Just one or two.” Ada nodded her head vigorously in agreement.

--------------

An hour and a considerable amount of whisky later, both girls were prancing about the shop in frocks Mrs. Robinson had spent weeks preparing for the ladies of neighboring towns. Ada insisted Irene try a pale yellow dress even though she balked incessantly about it being her least favorite color. And in retaliation, Irene chose the first thing Ada showed true disdain for, a mass of ruffles and lace.

Standing before the full length mirror, Ada studied herself carefully, turning this way and that to see how she looked in the garment. Casting a jealous glance at Irene, she noted how much better her friend filled out the bodice of her dress. “I wish I had your tits,” Ada whined without realizing she’d actually said the words aloud.

“Seriously?” Irene asked with incredulous delight. “Gosh, I’d love to have your tiny waist!” Ada's cheeks flushed with heat, unable to remark as Irene ran her fingers along the boning of her dress with featherlight touch.

Their eyes locked in the mirror for a moment before Ada broke away to reach for Irene’s hand, promenading her partner around the shop with a flourish. “You look simply marvelous,” she complimented in a posh accent. Twirling her friend closer she added, "for a giant banana" with a snicker of mischievous delight.

Irene stuck her tongue out impishly, but chose to return the wayward compliment. “Not nearly as lovely as you, my dear lace doily,” she snorted, hinging forward in a deep bow that nearly saw her face plant onto the workroom floor.

Motionless against the cold boards, she was horrified to notice how they moved in undulating waves around her, Ada's legs swaying along. Irene shook her head with an unpleasant grimace. "Ada, stop moving!” she pleaded in a pitiful tone.

“M’not!” Ada protested. Glancing down at her very green looking friend, she suddenly began to panic. “Wait…are you going to be sick?”

“No!” Irene answered emphatically before bolting upright.

Ada knelt down to her, rubbing Irene’s back in soothing circles. “You'll be alright, won't you?"

Irene shut her eyes to the nausea building in the pit of her stomach, biting her lip in stubborn insistence that she could hold off the inevitable.

“That’s it,” Ada encouraged. “Wait for me to get this off you at least,” she muttered, fingers twisting in the buttons uselessly. 

At that very moment, Irene hurled the contents of her stomach onto the dress, Ada and the floor.

Ada stopped short, muddled brain taking a long beat to process what had just occurred. Arms flopping by her sides dramatically she winced in despair, “Bloody hell, Irene!”

Taking a huge gulp of air, Irene turned toward her friend and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her ruined garment. Her watery eyes searched Ada's briefly before she fell back against the ground with a thud. "That's what you get for making me wear yellow," she chided before her eyes slammed closed.

---------------

Tag List:

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[transmutationisms]

Her first task: assemble a team of development executives to rummage through Mattel’s toy chest and identify I.P. that could be fodder for Hollywood studios. Mattel would help match properties with writers, actors, and directors; studios would provide all the funding. The brands, and audiences’ familiarity with them, were their own form of currency. Brenner told me, “In the world we’re living in, I.P. is king. Pre-awareness is so important.”

[...]

The gamble now looks like a smart one. The hyper-saturated trailers for “Barbie” have sparked endless memes, and interest in the film’s aesthetic sensibility, which mimics the look of Mattel play sets, is so intense that the hashtag #Barbiecore trended on TikTok for months. The movie, which opens in mid-July, is tracking to be one of the blockbusters of the summer. Meanwhile, Mattel has amassed a long slate of other projects. Daniel Kaluuya, for example, has agreed to produce a feature about Barney, the purple dinosaur. Thirteen more films have been publicly announced, including movies about He-Man and Polly Pocket; forty-five are in development. (Some of the projects have an ouroboros quality. Tom Hanks is supposed to star in “Major Matt Mason,” which will be based on an astronaut action figure that has been largely forgotten, except for the fact that it helped inspire Buzz Lightyear—one of the protagonists of Pixar’s “Toy Story” franchise.)

Barber told me that Mattel had figured out how to “engage with filmmakers in a friendly way.” Gerwig, meanwhile, was looking to move beyond the small-scale dramas she was known for. “Greta and I have been very consciously constructing a career,” Barber explained. “Her ambition is to be not the biggest woman director but a big studio director. And Barbie was a piece of I.P. that was resonant to her.”

[...]

Talk turned to a few recent pitches that had surprised the team. “Somebody just asked me about Bass Fishin’, which is, like, a toy fishing rod,” Bassin said. The pitch was for an “intense sports drama about this cheating scandal in competitive fishing”—an attempt, it seemed to me, to Trojan-horse a story that the writer actually wanted to tell into a conceit that might be green-lighted.

After the meeting, McKeon told me that it was possible to incorporate complex characters and emotions into toy-based properties, though not every brand could support mature themes. “Thomas the Tank Engine isn’t going on a bender with his friends,” he said. But “Major Matt Mason” could be reimagined as a “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”-esque drama for adults: “It’s prestige-y and asks really pointed questions about life and our place in the universe.” He went on, “Our top priority is to make really good movies—movies that matter, and that make a cultural footprint. Our second priority is to make sure that we do no disservice to the brands.”

found this article helpful in contextualising the medium piece that’s been circulating on here

[atmilescross]

Send help I was pitching Fire and Hemlock to someone and was using Tam Lin references to describe it without remembering to clarify it's a Tam Lin retelling, accidentally referred to Polly and Tom as "lovers" and didn't realize it for four minutes then had to rush back and add a comment saying ALSO ITS A RETELLING OF THE BALLAD OF TAM LIN. BUT ITS A CHILDRENS NOVEL SO THE HEROINE IS ACTUALLY LIKE A CHILD/TEEN SO MY USAGE OF THE WORD "LOVER" HERE WAS IN A VERY LOOSE SENSE IN TERMS OF TROPES AND THE RELATIONSHIP IN THIS BOOK IS MUCH MORE COMPLICATED THAN THAT***********

[runnning-outof-time]

Congrats again my love!! How about Tommy and 22? Maybe some smut? Maybe some angst? I can’t wait to read what you will come up with 🤍

Thanks so much for sending this in, Chi! I didn’t go full on smut here because I can’t write it for the life me, and the angst wasn’t the main element, but this idea came to me after re-watching this episode and I ran with it. I hope I did your request justice! Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Part of my 3.5k celebration — check out others!

A Long Day

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, mentions of blood/injury, suggestive situations (nothing too graphic)

Word Count: 1223

Summary: After a long day, Tommy just wants to be with (Y/N). (Y/N), who’s not seen him for the entire day, has some words to say to him first.

Tommy had had a long day. After handing money to the family of the boy who shouldn’t have died, meeting with Campbell and dealing with all that entailed, making sure his derby horse was transferred to its trainer, and Michael coming to make a pitch to be considered for the spot of company accountant, he wanted nothing more now than to get his mind off of all of it.

After telling Michael that he’d need to speak with his mother about the position first, Tommy was finally heading home. The door to 6 Watery Lane couldn’t come fast enough, but when it did, he stopped to take a deep breath before opening it. He hoped there wouldn’t be another item of business waiting behind it.

(Y/N) had been sitting in the front room of the house on Watery Lane for a few hours now. She’d been waiting for Tommy, who promised her he’d meet her and that they’d go somewhere for dinner.

Her eyes snapped to the door the second she heard it open, and she was up from the couch and walking over to Tommy as soon as she saw that it was him. “Where’ve you been, Tommy?” she questioned, trying to keep her emotions in check.

“Love…” Tommy sighed, his gaze finding the far wall as she came to stop in front of him. This already seemed like it was shaping up to be another item of business.

“You said you’d meet me for dinner three hours ago. Three, Tommy! And I’ve been sitting here, worried sick about where you could be and what you could be doing. I talked to Pol, you know. She said that you…”

(Y/N) was unable to finish her worry-driven rant because Tommy had reached out and took hold of her cheeks, effortlessly bringing her lips to his in a fervent kiss, one that was effective in derailing her train of thought. The kiss lasted until her lungs were screaming for air, making her be the one to pull back; her forehead resting against his.

“Where were you, Tommy?” she asked in a breathless manner a few moments after they’d parted.

“I’ve had a long fucking day,” he responded, his statement not answering hers in the slightest. (Y/N) exhaled a sigh, her nonverbal way of telling him that his answer wasn’t good enough. He distracted her before she could speak, dropping his hands from her cheeks so that they could snake around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “I need you, love,” he mumbled, his lips finding hers again.

“Polly told me that you’re looking to have Michael join,” (Y/N) took her chance and mumbled against his lips the second he broke away from her, “said that the day hell freezes over is the day he’ll be part of the business.”

“Not now, love’,” he deflected yet again, his face dropping to the spot where her collar met her jaw, his lips finding the skin present there.

“Tommy…” she meant to sigh, but his name escaped her lips through a moan instead.

“Hmm?” he hummed into the skin of her neck, his half-minded question doing more to distract her than it did to get her to continue the conversation.

“What are you doing with the business?”

Her question got him to lift his head, and he let his eyes dance over her face for a moment, licking his lips before he responded: “I have no interest in speaking about business at this moment,” he told her in a straightforward tone. His eyes then flitted to her lips for a moment before he leaned in and kissed her again.

This kiss was even more persistent than the last, and it made clear to (Y/N) what was on his mind. She let him win this time, staying focused on the feeling of his lips against hers as her hands traveled up to rest against his cheeks.

He pulled her deeper still, the feeling of his body flush against hers making her moan into the kiss as it intensified. Her hands didn’t stay on his cheeks for long before they were traveling upward to remove the peaked cap he was still wearing. She was going to do so with the intention of being able to tangle her hands into the longer strands of his hair, but something she felt on her left hand stopped her in her tracks. It had a sticky consistency, one that made her freeze mid-kiss and drop her hands from his face.

Tommy, still not wanting to stop, began placing kisses to her jawline, his hands working to bunch the fabric of her dress up so that he could take things further with her. He had a one track mind in this moment, working fervently to get what he needed.

But those thoughts were the furthest from (Y/N)’s mind now. Now, she wanted to get to the bottom of what she’d felt on the side of his face. It took a deal of strength for her to open her eyes, but when she did, they widened immediately.

“Do you know you’re bleeding?” she asked him, shock present in her voice when she was met with the sight of her red fingertips.

The grunt that Tommy elicited in response wasn’t enough for her, so she took matters into her own hands - quite literally - by grabbing his cheeks and lifting his face up so that she could inspect it. There was no injury that was screaming at her as she looked at him head on, but the reason behind the blood became clear when she turned his head to make him look to the right.

“You’ve got a cut on your temple,” she told him, squinting to inspect the injury further. It looked to be superficial, but still she had to wonder just for how long he’d been walking around with it bleeding. “What happened?” she tried then, manually turning his head so that he’d be looking at her again.

She knew just from the look in his eyes, how the once calm oceans were now darker from an impending storm, that she wouldn’t be getting much of an answer out of him. But hey…it was worth a try.

He let his eyes travel over her face, drinking in every inch of it as a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “Was a long day, (Y/N),” he mumbled, his hands continuing what they were doing, bunching up the fabric until he found the smooth skin of her thigh.

(Y/N) was the one to lean in for a kiss this time, and she pulled back with a similar grin present on her face. “Well maybe there’s something that can be done about that,” she told him, her voice not even needing to take on a suggestive tone for him to make the next move.

She couldn’t help but shriek as he lifted her into his arms, his hands brushing higher up her thighs as she hooked her legs around his waist. A stream of giggles left her lips as Tommy walked them to the stairs and up to his bedroom.

He may have had a long day, but at least he was - hell, they both were - ending it on a high note.

—damn y’all…I know I promised they won’t all be this long, but oh boy did I get carried away here. Sorry, not sorry!

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @youtifulsunshinelixfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[nerdyqueerr]

Im sorry but the fact that all meet me @ the altar talk about each other like "its fate" and "yeah i trust them to write the songs and its easy. Its easy to trust them." Like these are Best Friends they are Meant To Be. Band of all fucking time come on gay people in my phone we need to be insane about them

I am literally kicking my feet giggling like a teen girl in a movie over images of bands what the fuck is this

[zedortoo]

Pizza Autism: the novella

Pizza Tower autism and/or ADHD headcanons go go go!!!!

warning there is. So much under the cut. I go off about everyone's tism

Peppino:

-Middle aged man autism. Ohh my god this guy is so autism we're starting off strong

-Most of his stims are physical and are probably. Not the most healthy (biting, banging wrists together, hair pulling etc)

-He has arfid frfr! Despite being a chef he's very careful about what he eats, however most italian foods are safe foods for him.

-Struggle showing empathy, even if he feels it. Yall saw how he reacted to Gerome mourning John he was out of his depth 😭

Gustavo:

-gnome autism.

-poor dude can't understand sarcasm to save his life. Also really bad at comprehending deeper meanings and stuff... Honestly me too Gustavo. Me too.

-actually gets overstimulated really easily. he grew up in a place similar to the gnome forest in the tower, where the air was always somewhat humid. If there's a dehumidifier running anywhere he can practically sense it and will immediately get upset bc he is too dry 💔

-His stims are mainly vocal (i.e. "I'm going to kill you") but he also likes to bounce on the balls of his feet and rock back and forth!

Mr Stick:

-French autism

-Hes not actually a huge asshole all the time, SURE he can be blunt and come off as rude but most of the time the mean persona is a mask. His really close friends know he's just a weird dude

-(stole this idea from Olympe) He is a routine lover!! Has his entire day planned out as soon as he wakes up. If you get in the way of his routine you will be turned into an ambiguous ball of meat. He was SOOOO pissed off when he got stuck in the tower bc it's wasn't in his routine so he robbed the whole damn place out of malice

-Innapropriate reactions to sensetive situations. If he had to comfort someone it would be Joever for him.

-Represses most stims because he thinks he's embarrassing. When in private though he'll spend ages examining textures and smelling paper (I do this all the time it's so fun). Occasionally when he's tired or comfortable he'll let out a high pitched squeak that noone can believe came from that middle aged man.

-I could go on with more. I love talking about this cunt.

Pepperman:

-Capsicum autism.

-Also has inappropriate reactions to things. Has no vocal control either half of the time he doesn't realize he's yelling

-Has a habit of chewing on/wanting to taste everything. Ate several wardrobes worth of Polly pocket clothes as a kid probs. Has to physically stop himself from giving his art supplies a taste. Occasionally eats an eraser still.

-If someone reorganizes his shit they WILL be killed this dude knows exactly where everything he needs is he has his own fucked up system

-Mainly uses stim toys. Has a collection of high end custom made ones but is too afraid of wearing them out so he chews on a toy dog bone instead and it's mangled to BITS

Vigilante:

-Cheese autism.

-This dude has know idea what autism actually is. He knows he's different compared to a lot of people, but he's never had the right word for it.

-Strong sense of justice. If something is wrong he WILL set it right. He got super upset when he realized Peppino wasn't actually an outlaw and he had tried to kill an innocent dude

-HATES HATES HATES processed foods. says he can taste the chemicals.

-Doesnt really stim in public. He'll tap his boot or spin the barrel of his gun if he gets really overstimulated but he much prefers to just pet some of his farm animals until he feels better

Noise:

-Rat autism!!

-This dude constantly needs to be overstimulated he loves it. If things are too quiet he gets super upset and starts bouncing off the walls and shit

-HATES the texture of carbonated drinks but forces himself to drink them because the flavour is worth it.

-Hes has like, three masks on at all times. There's the feral showbiz fella we all know and love, then beneath that is a more controlled businessman type, and beneath THAT is another, slightly less feral rat man.

-goes semi verbal sometimes. Everything just gets tangled up in his mind and he can't spit out the words he wants. He hates it when this happens during a show.

Noisette:

-Bunny autism!!!

-classic weirdgirl type. Would totally read warrior cats and roleplay as a cat on the playground as a kid.

-Also really bad with understanding emotions. You have to tell her specifically if she's upset you or something otherwise she just will not realize.

-makes a lot of vocal stims. Mainly just little beeps and stuff (I like to think she'd make that one jerma substitute teacher noise. Does anyone know what I'm talking about) Also loves to rock back and forth!!

-Has texture issues. She personally disposed of all the Sherpa fleece in the tower.

Fake peppino:

-autism supreme.

-like fr this dude is just the embodiment of autism. it eats vaccines to get more autistic/j

-cant understand when it's making someone upset. Actually, similar to Noisette, is bad at perceiving negative emotions overall.

-mirrors a lot. I mean that's like an integral part of their character. They mainly take after Peppino but will start acting like someone if he's around them long enough.

-melts into a puddle when overstimulated. Honestly? I wish I could do that too.

-Mainly mirrors stims from friends. It freaked everyone out when they started repeating Gustavo's catchphrase.

Pizzahead:

-PIZZA AUTISM!!!

-horrible moral compass this dude will do anything she wants and genuinely won't see what's wrong with it. Case in point the whole of pizza tower

-used to mask her true silly self a lot to be considered more 'normal' but decided normal ppl were boring as hell and dropped the charade

-arfid haver!! Loves pastries and breads and stuff, basically refuses to eat anything else. Has a personal vendetta against cantaloupe and has vowed to destroy it all bc he hates it soooo much

-taps his foot as a stim!! Also likes to jump around and the like, will rapidly shake their fists if incredibly excited

Gerome:

-Rock autism

-This guy loves his own company. Sure, he'll happily be social, but drops the mask as soon as he's alone. Just likes to be alone!

-Also not big on touch. The only person who's allowed to lay a finger on him is John, if anyone else just like. pats him on the back he will freeze up.

-loves being a janitor because the job is mostly repetitive. He cleans each floor in his own order, he has it all sorted out!

-loves bath bombs and stuff. Really likes the smells and just the fizz and the way they crumble in his fingers. Sometimes he'll just throw one in the sink and watch it for ages

-makes this weird clicking noise in the back of his throat as a stim. It's a rather unsettling noise but it's really the only way he stims in public. When alone he likes to feel textures of different things

John:

-hivemind autism!

-I feel bad for this dude man imagine having your being spread out through several different pocket dimensions and all of them have different textures and shot this poor bugger must've been overstimulated for years

-very blunt. Says what he wants with no remorse. Also doesn't have any volume control so often doesn't realize he's yelling

-I imagine when he was resurrected and was no longer a hivemind he had to take a long time alone just being himself. Duuuude imagine having to mask for YEARS because you were never ever alone I would lose my fucking marbles

-opposite of his brother, he doesn't understand personal space. Will often accidentally get I'm ppls faces because he doesn't realize how close he is to them. This also makes him somewhat clumsy and he has a habit of running into things

-Mainly has facial/expression stims. Will pull a big ol' grimace if something goes wrong and grin like an idiot when happy (see: when he got revived)

[justanamesstuff]

Frustrated dreams – Matty Healy

Reader is under the influence of her dreams, Matty makes it worse.

Matty Healy x f!reader

A/N: Hi guys, I'm sooo sorry for not posting a chapter of All I Need this week, so here's a little blurb I came up with after having a dream with Matty. It's not related to the fic though. Enjoy :)) Word count: 1.3 k

He was looking at Y/n, his attention was partially on his girlfriend, at the other side of the room, and on the girl tucked under his arm. Y/n’s stomach twisting with the thought of another person — another girl — being touched by him.

Matty being touchy wasn’t a rare thing; it was part of his personality, and she didn’t want him any different. Also, the girl’s job justified all the fluttering around him. On the other hand, Matty was taking advantage of it, knowing very well the impact of his actions on Y/n. She wasn’t a territorial girlfriend, thing was: her feelings that morning were all mixed.

Y/n made the mistake of telling Matty about her dreams after waking up.

The Matty of her dream was being very loving and overly touchy with Polly one evening; Y/n told the real Matty how she just looked at them, feeling needy and angry. Waking up with the same feelings that didn’t wash away.

She knew Polly had a girlfriend and her relationship with Matty was nothing like that, but in her dream…they were.

Matty laughed his ass off, muffling the sound into his pillow, making her regret telling him.

After a breakfast full of angry looks from Y/n and amused ones from him, Matty dragged his girlfriend out of the house. He had a fitting and he wanted her there. Little did Y/n know how that was going to develop.

Y/n rolled her eyes at him when he dragged his hand from Patricia’s assistant’s shoulder towards her waist. Not being inappropriate, even though he was pushing the friendly limits.

“Okay, take your shirt off, Healy.” Pat instructed him.

Y/n was far from them, sitting on a big couch in the massive room, trying to get distracted with her phone. She didn’t want to stroke his ego more, staring at his perfectly built chest.

“Girls…” he scoffed, making the girl laugh for the way he was speaking. “Always want to see me naked.” The blond exploded in a fit of high-pitched laughter.

Y/n breathe deeply. ‘How some random dream is making me feel like this?’, she wondered.

“Your ego is bigger than your head-“ Pat knew better than to contradict his statement; entering his silly game was not the option.

Matty was in a clear self-satisfied mood. “You wanna know what’s big?”

His friend rolled her eyes to the back of her head. “You’re such a man…”

“Says right here.” He pointed to his tattoo. The girl looked at it, mesmerized by having the ink on his chest inches away from her face.

Y/n opened Instagram missing the information, just scrolling to have something to do.

Patricia looked at him. “Arsehole.” She muttered. “How do you deal with him and his ego, Y/n?” She turned around to look at Matty’s girlfriend.

Y/n faked not hearing her. Matty saw directly through her fake acting.

“Baby!” Matty shouted. “What’s more interesting than your man?” He made a face, looking at his girl.

She looks at them. The women were in the middle of helping him get into a translucent shirt. Patricia stopped to stare at Y/n, meanwhile the other girl fastened the buttons touching his skin, going lower and lower. She diverted her sight from the action to Pat.

“I don’t, I ignore him…” She said after Patricia repeated the question. Y/n could feel Matty’s eyes burning on her.

She ignored him. She went back to the not so important news on her phone, pictures of friends and family. They got back to work with the clothing.

Suddenly, Matty ran towards her.

“What do you think of this?” He approached her, spinning in front of her, so she could have a look from his back and front.

Y/n sighted loud, looking up at her boyfriend. “You look good, as always…” Y/n said, deflated, trying to sound uninterested with all his display.

Matty studied her factions, smirking wide. He turned around, stealing a look at his friend and assistant, making sure they weren’t fixating on them. Luckily for him, Patricia and the girl moved even further into the opposite direction, discussing fabrics or something like that.

Y/n played with the skin of her fingers, not wanting to look at Matty any more. He let himself fall forward, his hands on each side of her legs. His face came closer to Y/n’s; Matty’s nose touched the right side of hers, making her breath got stuck on her lungs. He was too close.

“Baby-” He knew, he fucking knew.

“Mhm.” She couldn’t keep her eyes wide open. Her eyelids moving like they had autonomy, half way closed.

“Are you okay?”

The little shit wanted her to say it, she was not going to surrender so fast.

She looked up, defiant, to his eyes.“Yes, why?”

“Still thinking about your dream?” Matty wiggled his eyebrows.

Y/n wanted to whip the smile from his handsome face. She wanted to make him pay for her hurt feelings.

“No.”

“Liar.” He spat directly into her lips, without touching them.

“I was not-” She tried to fight back

He interrupted his girlfriend. “Then what were you thinking about? You seem distant from me…” Matty pouted, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Stop.” Y/n whined.

“Stop what? I’m just checking on my sweetheart.” Matty was good at faking innocence.

Her stomach fell with his words, her underwear getting wet.

“I’m not-” Y/n wanted to protest, to push him away and crush his lips all at the same time. She was getting upset, needy and desperate under his sight.

“You are. You are mine, all mine” Matty said, caressing the skin of her cheek with the tip of his nose. He reached the conjunction of her neck and jaw, kissing hard on her weak spot.

Y/n contained a moan, making fists with her hands, preventing herself from touching Matty. “And what about you, then?” It wasn’t the place where she wanted or expected to have that conversation, but he was pushing her buttons.

“You tell me.” He bit down on her skin.

“Fuck you!” Her brain was unable to come up with something better.

“Would be my pleasure…”

Y/n was annoyed with him. How he held a lot of power over her body. “Get back to your fan.” Y/n tried to push him away, placing her hands on his shoulders. The fabric was thin, and his skin underneath was hot to the touch. Which made her clench her thighs together.

“It drives me crazy…the thought of you being jealous about some random girl, baby.” Matty admitted with his eyes full of lust. His orbs are darker than usual.

“Matty!” Y/n pleaded.

“Sounding so pathetic…but you don't care, you want her to know I’m yours? You need to mark me, darling? Mark me as yours?” Matty came closer, brushing their lips with every word.

“Please-” Y/n cringed at how pathetic she sounded.

Matty smirked again, looking directly into her eyes. “What?” he asked, almost too naive.

“I need you” She grabbed the back of his head, tugging at his curls. Losing quickly the battle with her mind.

He chuckled. “I know, but I'm working, baby.” Matty reminded her, at the same time, he touched the outside of her leg suggestively.

“Fuck-” Y/n opened, without thinking, her legs. She didn’t care any more about who was watching or what they could think of her. She craved him, right there.

“We’ll finish in a bit and then…I’ll take care of my needy baby, okay?” he detached himself from Y/n. Staring at her flustered state, proud of himself.

“Matty?” Patricia called him.

“Yep, be right there!” He replied.

Matty winked at his girlfriend and went back to the girls. Y/n threw her head forward, trying to contain her frustration for a little while more until they could be home.

She knew she would be ready for him to do whatever he was planning.