#pls keep in mind that this is very unfinished | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

singukieee · 3 months

Text

—my all time favourite bts fics (pt. 2) ᯓᡣ𐭩

consists of my personal favourite bts fics that I've read countless of times. including those from other platforms, such as Wattpad, AO3, and Patreon.

For some works that are cross-posted between tumblr and wp/ao3, I'd only link them to the latters bcs I find it easier to read and navigate the stories on those. but I also tagged all the authors I know are here and linked the rest so you can check their blogs out yourself!

I'll also separate this list into several parts simply because there's too many... So it'd be easier for you guys to navigate!

red means unfinished

blue means finished

🗯️ editor's note

(sorted by alphabetical order)

Dreams of You by seoktishie

You are a theater actress who dreams of becoming a successful Broadway star. You’ve dedicated your whole life hustling for the show, surrounded by a supportive family and friends you never thought you would lose your best friend and boyfriend on the same day. This puts your dreams to a halt, and you decide to take a break and a soul-searching trip to Korea, where you meet a successful artist that reconnects your love for the arts. OR You accidentally meet Kim Namjoon of BTS, and you had no idea of how an amazing person he is nor how he is the leader of the biggest boyband to date!

🗯️ the yearning and pining *chef's kiss*

Epiphany by 2stanornot2stan

Your soulmate mark seemed self-centred to you "I'm the one I should love" Who would ever want to love someone with that as their soulmate mark?

🗯️ this one is painful. but writing's so good, doesn't fail in pulling my heartstrings.

Escapade by bonnehh_

"Where the hell am I?!" He shrieked, stumbling over his feet like a newborn deer. He was a panicking mess, spinning around in circles to see the unfamiliar sight of giant trees and bushy plants covering the land. The forest was heavily rich with greenery, vegetation and strange fruits. Fallen leaves covered the ground, creating a crunching sound after every step he took. "Calm down, Sweets." I calmly voiced amidst his loud screeches. My words cut through his mess of a mind making him freeze on his spot. Turning on his heel, he noticed me. He stumbled back immediately, possibly because I was covered in angry, red scratches and the bandages covering my arms alerted the male. "What the fudge?!!?! Who- who are you??" He shouted, alarmed by my…seemingly beaten-up figure. "I'm Diana. Welcome to the game." I smiled softly. Hoping my excitement can keep a hold of itself for the sake of keeping the man from getting scared. Dumbfounded, He could only let one word out, "Huh?". Oh boy.

🗯️ a cool one! many adventures and mc has freakishly good survival skills. this honestly cured my longing for that one fic that's no more that was also survival, adventure and game themed with slight crack. I think it was called 'Ready Player One'? (not that famous book and movie). but I think it was a translated ver of a chinese ff on another platform. Idk I still missed it very much, it was also very good. (If you know anything abt this, pls dm me!)

Ethereal by @purpleyoonn

After leaving your home in need of a fresh start, you open a bookstore with the hopes that the words you read could bring you solace. You never realized that the books you loved would bring you home instead.

🗯️ I love soulmate stories, this author also has good writing so

Euphoric Endeavours by haveagreatday

Through a series of curious happenstances, the Boys of Bangtan - your campus' most popular and most handsome group of individuals - set their sights on you, a regular student with a stubborn streak and a wayward mouth. Strangely enough, the mere sight of them sets your instincts off, red-lights flashing in your brain - danger, danger, danger, danger. It's too bad that they can't seem to leave you alone, though. They like you too much.

🗯️ enemies to lovers, anyone?

Everything Falls (Into Place) by Hiromi_20 / @blog-name-idk

"I… I might know someone who has a spare room," your brother finally muttered hesitantly. You perked up from where the couch had been swallowing you. "What! And you didn't tell me?" You accused. "You'd be living with a bunch of dudes." "Oh my god Jackson," you groaned, rolling your eyes. "The fact that you're even suggesting them means that you know them all and they're good people, right? It's not like they're gonna murder me and hide my body in the walls or something." "Well, yeah, but…" "But WHAT?" you almost screamed in frustration. "They're all… hot." Silence for several moments. Then you started guffawing uncontrollably, unladylike snorts escaping from your lips. "You are such a dork," you gasped between laughs, tears coming to your eyes. "If I promise not to let them gangbang me, will you please ask?"

🗯️ another really well-written crack fic! goshhh this one's so goood! this one's the real friends to lovers, gosh the pining is just *chef's kiss*

Finding My Pack by @untaemedqueen (paid on Patreon but so worth it)

In which an all-alpha pack unexpectedly found their mate isolated in a sterile room. So the only right thing would be to pamper and love her to make up for all those years she spent alone and lonely.

🗯️ spicyy 🥵 but also cute. I love protective mates

Flaw in The System by Strayberry_

She has 8 moons on her wrist. So do they.

🗯️ honestly Idk what to say about this one. just prepare your tissues for this family of misfits that fit so well together.

Full House by fillomina

Y/N has a steady job and lives alone, that is, until she tags along with her friend to the shelter. Jimin, Hobi, and Yoongi have been waiting to get adopted, and their chance has finally arrived. With the small hybrid pack now living with Y/N, her life never has a dull moment. As Y/N gets used to her new family, she also begins learning more about old friends, making new ones, and getting a very full house.

🗯️ I'd say that I don't like the fact that yn's kinda treated as a doormat at some parts, but it's still good and quite well-written found family fic.

Getting Back Into The Swing of Things by @jellifysh

Hearing her voice now, Namjoon was reminded of the times when she was all he had. How she was his everything, supported him with everything she had, even if it meant giving him the shirt off her back. "Joon?" Y/n sniffled. "I know it sounds crazy, you don't even have to, its been years," "No," Namjoon was agreeing before he could even think, before he could even remember the other people who lived in the house just the next room over. "No, its okay, I mean, we promised each other right? We'd never turn our backs on each other?" "You can stay with us, it'll be fine I promise, I'll handle everything, don't worry at all, it'll be great! Like, old times, okay?" Namjoon was tripping over his words now, he just felt like if he didn't see her now, he would be too late for… something. What, he wasn't sure, but there was an urgent need to have her home safe.

🗯️ just re-read this one again literally yesterday, still as good as the first time. I love strangers to friends to lovers.

Her by untouchablerave

The question hangs between you, and you’re desperate to ask it. Usually, you don’t mind much who is on the other end of the appointment, as you’re so focused on a list of kinks, trying to map out a scene in your head, but this time, the ‘who’ is all you can focus on. Your boss looks at you. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this but… do you know BTS?” Your head snaps up in shock. “You’re fucking with me,” you gasp. “I’m dead serious,” your boss replies. “Jeon Jungkook just came of age. He wants to lose it right away.”

🗯️ spicy but soft soft softtt

Hidden Marks series by Havenesa

❶ Hidden Marks

What does it mean to be soulmates? What do I love about her? What is the reason? Does there need to be a rational reason to love someone? Maybe I love her amber eyes, or the way she tries to hide her smile whenever we get into playful arguments, or her love for just living. Maybe I just love her because she is simply just Han Sera.

🗯️ This one's so angsty yet so good, the writing's also so good at making the characters so human that I'd always end up sobbing at every re-read.

❷ Connecting Hearts

What defines a soulmate? Is it the mark that you were born with, only shared with a selected few? Or a bond which was created through pain and suffering? You'll have to read to find out.

Highlight by Alphathyx

Hana attends Atlas Academy of Arts also known as the AAA to pursue her passions in Hiphop with best friend Hoseok and Prince Charming Jimin. The school gets selected along with other arts schools to compete in an inter-school competition which prize could open doors to any arts students dreams. She along with seven boys, discover what it means to love, but a tragic incident spirals the competition and them into a mystery no one saw coming.

🗯️ friendship and struggle to success <3

Hotel California by Deliebre

You are a badass business guru that works for a huge gaming company. Your home is Korea but you travel often. You are in California for work but keep bumping into hot Korean men, which makes you want to do more than bumping...

🗯️ immediate connection... yes please!

In The Dark by BearPawBeach

"How can that be? I am looking right at you. I am speaking to you right now." "That's the thing. I don't know! That's why I came here today. Yesterday, when you laughed at me, you laughed at me. I almost didn't believe it myself, but the more I thought about it, the crazier it sounded. So I came here to see you and to know if you can see me!" she blurted out. He could not believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. "Look, you don't need to lie to me. There is no need to make up some crazy excuse to meet someone." "I'm not lying! I really am invisible," she argued back. The man just threw his hands up to concede and turned to walk away from her again, walking right out of the building. The girl followed in hot pursuit. "Do you really not believe me? Why would I make something like that up? Yes, I know it sounds crazy. If I were you, I would probably think it's nuts too, but I am telling you the truth!"

🗯️ mc is invisible in this one, story's kinda sad and cute!

In Your Roots by sweetinsanityy

Jungkook is the perfect alpha, a little too perfect. Being the youngest in Bangtan, a group full of alpha's, friction has been happening between him and the boys. He's too strong, too dominating, too wild, and too much for Bangtan to handle. The perfect solution? An omega just for himself. You happen to be the perfect candidate. But the other boys want a taste of you as well. Or, you're hired to be an omega for Jungkook to take care of, and maybe he and the rest of the boys get too attached.

🗯️ another one about the boys being absolute simps!

Iridescent Love by @imnotlauriane

From a fated meeting to a life filled with wonders, the path of discovery is much, much harder than what I had prepared myself for. Especially when my identity, the only one I knew of ends up being a total lie.

🗯️ sad... but it got better. and what did I say abt imnotlauriane's stories? they're all good!

It's a Little Complex? by Infired_Mochi

Starting college and moving into a new apartment with complete independence has been your goal. Due to all the hard work at the cafe during your high school years, and your parents pitching in a few dollars, you can afford to stay in the apartment that is just the right size. However, did you get more than you bargained for? A few other college students occupy the rooms next to yours, seven to be exact. Eight rooms reside on the third floor of the apartment complex and yours is on the farthest right wing, apartment number 308. Just wait until you meet them.

🗯️ sooo it's a little complex... just read it!

Late Bloomer by basicwitch13

Despite growing up in a wolf pack, you were never able to shift nor had a second gender present itself. It seemed, by all accounts, that you were a typical human. So you carried on, burying yourself in your work as a sociology professor—until one of your students introduces you to his pack and changes everything.

🗯️ yes to yearning, pining, and healing.

Like Crazy by @euphoricfilter

The story of seven loves across eight lives.

🗯️ so freakin well-written

Little Do You Know... by @yoongiofmine

In a world where idols and actors can’t date, whether it be because of contracts, lack of time, or the dangers that involve having your personal life leaked, the market opened up for a new work field. Playmate Agencies emerged to supply the entertainment world with highly trained companions for hire. Bangtan is looking for new playmates. And you just happen to be the one all of them choose.

🗯️ another idk what to sayy, just read bcs it's so gooood.

Magic Shop by AriZedd

In which Yn is meeting new friends (and an old one) getting charmed day by day.

🗯️ just read this crack fic, strangers to friends to ... I'm obsessed.

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 | NAVI

#san recs #hybrid bts #bts poly #bts x reader #fics recs #bts ot7 #bts ot7 x reader #bts fic

261 notes · View notes

sorcerersseestars · 1 month

Text

just like you <3

warnings: Gojo makes inappropriate jokes. Reader is gender neutral but refers to Gojo as “such a boy” once and is called princess by Gojo thrice. (it’s part of the story, I’m sorry ;-;). Kissing, suggestiveness, & confessions! Gojo is wearing his shades but I was too lazy to keep writing that in…

word count: 2.1k

I feel like Gojo and reader are in their late teens/early 20s in this! Also, I think this feels like more of a snapshot of one moment than a complete oneshot…I guess it’s a drabble then?? Not sure haha pls let me know if there’s a term for this

Gojo hates classical music. Growing up, his parents would drag him to so many ballets and operas, especially around the holidays. He can’t count on both hands how many performances of the Nutcracker he has seen, which was always such a snooze fest for him—he used to point and laugh at the poor child who had to play the rat, which is usually how he got out of seeing the rest of the performance, since the ushers would quickly kick out him and his family for his behavior.

In essence, Gojo has always gone about his life convinced that classical music is horribly boring and that he abhors it.

That is, until you reintroduce him to it. When you ask him if you mind listening to a piece with him, he’s a bit surprised—and of course, apprehensive. How is he going to break it to you that he hates something you hold so dear? But it’s you, so he relents—how could he ever say no to you?

“It’s called Scheherazade,” You say, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s based on a Thousand and One Nights, y’know, the really old story. Do you know it?”

You’re both sitting on your bed. You are sitting cross-legged, while Gojo rudely stretches out his legs (manspreads!), leaving little room for you. You don’t complain, though—you like being this close to him, even if you can’t admit it to yourself.

“I haven’t heard of it,” He admits. He feels so relaxed with you that he yawns even though he isn’t necessarily sleepy. You seem to take this the wrong way, though.

You become embarrassed. “Oh shit, this stuff is kinda nerdy, huh? I don’t want to bore you-”

“You won’t,” He says immediately, firmly. His blue eyes seem to look right through you, making you nervous under his persistent gaze. Maybe if this was music history class, he’d sigh and moan, but since you’re the one telling the story, there’s no possible way he could get bored.

“Oh, r-really?” You stammer out, quickly looking away from his bold gaze (does he always look at you like that?) “Okay then. Uh, so basically, this king found his wife in bed with another man, so he uh– killed her and all of her servants. He kinda went crazy after that and took revenge on women by summoning one virgin to his chamber every night and executing her before the night was up.”

He shifts from his position, leaning in toward you to whisper, “I don’t think he was a very nice king, but don’t tell him I said that.”

You laugh at his lame joke, which makes him feel warm inside.

“Well, one night, a woman named Scheherazade volunteered to be the virgin to go to him one night. Her family was distraught, thinking they were going to lose their daughter to their insane king. But after the first night was up, everyone was surprised to see she was still alive in the morning. This repeated on and on. She was really clever and told him an unfinished story every night, telling him that he would have to wait until the next night to hear the ending. And she did that One Thousand and One times, hence the name of the story.”

“So you’re telling me that she edged him with the same story for one thousand and one nights and he never noticed? Seems kinda gullible, if ya ask me.”

“Why do you have to put it like that?” You say, flustered by his wording. “Ugh, you’re such a boy sometimes.”

“Am I wrong, princess?” He smiles. Your heart skips a beat at his use of a pet name, but you try not to make it obvious.

You roll your eyes. “W-whatever! Anyway, he eventually fell for her and made her his queen. That’s what this piece is based on—or that’s the simple version of it, at least.”

“So, let me get this straight—she tamed an actual virgin-killer?”

“Satoru!” You try to sigh, but can’t hold back your laughter. “That’s not the point!”

“It kinda is though, isn’t it?” He playfully argues. “Actually, I’d argue that’s the climax of the story. After that, everything gets resolved!”

You make a face when he calls it the ‘climax’. In turn, he pokes your cheek.

“What, you don’t like my literary terminology? C’mon, that’s literally what it’s called!”

“You’re such a perv! Virgin killer this, climax that,” You wrinkle your nose in semi-faux disgust. “Just shut up and listen, I’m going to turn it on.”

“Oooo, you’re gonna turn it on!” Gojo says, waggling his fingers and doing jazz hands.

You cross your arms and put on your sternest look. “Do you want to listen to it or not?”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, officer, I’ll behave now!”

You giggle. “Okay, enough. I’m gonna start it now, for real. It’s kinda long, so sit tight.”

You press play on your device, fiddling with the volume for a bit since classical music has such high highs and low lows. You’re still nervous if he’s going to like it or not, so you aren’t as immersed in the music as you usually are. You keep glancing at Gojo out of the corner of your eye, praying you’re not boring him to death.

As the music plays on, you begin to relax and imagine the story in your head. You close your eyes, savoring the colorful tones of the different instruments and the singing melodies.

You open your eyes at the start of the second movement, and are surprised to find Gojo’s eyes completely on you. The solo violin sings beautifully iand the harp tugs at your heartstrings in the background, making the sensation of his eyes on yours all the more evocative. You lose your breath; neither of you look away. It should be awkward, but it isn’t.

“D-do you like it?” You stupidly ask.

“It’s beautiful,” He says softly, eyes still on you. Just like you are the words left lingering on his tongue, right there yet left unsaid.

“Really?!” You answer excitedly—but again, stupidly. “I- uh, I’m gl–”

You cut yourself off with a yelp as the mood in the music suddenly changes. You had turned it up during the quiet opening, since you could hardly hear, so this loud and sudden start to a stormy section catches you off guard. You instinctively flinch and grip the nearest thing around you for comfort…

…That ‘thing’ being your friend, Satoru Gojo. You’re holding his thick biceps tightly, not realizing your blunder in your haste.

He smirks at you but doesn’t move away. If anything, he leans in to you. “Aw, did you get scared? It’s just vibrations wiggling the air, there’s nothing to be scared of.”

You instantly let go. He laughs at how quickly you back away, and you can only hope he doesn’t sense the heat on your cheeks. So embarrassing.

“You–! Ugh! I was just caught off guard!” You say, brushing your hands off just for show. "It just suddenly got so loud that I got startled.”

“That sounds like an excuse to me,” He jests.

“Think whatever you like,” You sigh, exasperated. “But c’mon, we have to finish it! We’re only halfway and we just missed some.”

“Okay, okay, let’s keep going then.” He says, motioning for you to continue. “Just so you know, it’s fine if you need to hold onto something—or should I say somebody—at the next ‘scary’ cymbals crash…”

You glare at him and harshly press the volume up button. You smile as the music returns to your ears, and you slightly sway to the melody. You’re too into the music to notice how Satoru gazes affectionately at your gentle swaying, a small smile gracing his lips.

By around the middle of the third movement, The Young Prince and the Young Princess, you check back in on Gojo. This movement is calmer and slower, not as exciting as the first two, so you worry he may not find it engaging enough.

“What do you think about this movement?” You ask him quietly.

“This one?” He responds, and you nod. “I like it, maybe more than the others. It’s very romantic. And it’s kinda fitting.”

You have no idea what that could mean. You freeze, worrying that it’s a joke that you’ll fall for and get hurt over.

But you ask anyway. “Fitting?”

“Mmhmm,” He rumbles. “The Young Prince and the Young Princess. That’s the title of the movement, isn’t it?”

“It…it is,” You confirm hesitantly, afraid to misunderstand him. “A-and…?”

“Well, princess,” He says, and you again practically melt at the pet name. “I think this movement is very pretty.”

“Pretty?” You echo back. “Yes, I guess it is.”

“Yep, pretty,” He says. “Just like you.”

“I–huh?!”

He said it so casually and with so much ease that you practically missed it.

Just like…you?

“What did you just say?” You ask with wide eyes. You’re trembling and your face feels so hot.

He inches closer to you. You have to fight not to react—whether that would be to lean in or back away, you do not know. You like him so much that it scares you—he practically holds the reins to your emotions.

“I said that this movement is pretty, just like you,” He says, eyes flickering down to your lips then back up to your eyes. “Is there something wrong about that? You can’t crucify me for telling the truth.”

You brain cells start to fizzle out. All you can think to say is, “Crucify you?”

Gojo chuckles. “I call you pretty, and you’re focusing on my wording?”

“Well, I- you’re talking like it’s biblical times or something!”

“Maybe your story reminded me of that. You were the one talking about executing virgins,” He says, then comes closer still. “Pretty.”

He’s so close that you’re sure he can feel your quick breaths fanning his face. You’re so nervous that your breathing comes fast and shallow.

You swallow your fears. It’s now or never.

“Satoru,” You start shakily, then steady yourself with a big breath. “I think…I think you’re pretty, too.”

He blinks. You blink.

You’re so sure that he’s about to make fun of you for what you said—is it weird to call a boy pretty?—and you’re so sure that he’s going to boisterously laugh in your face and reveal that it’s all one big joke that everyone else was in on.

You’re so embarrassed. You cover your face with your hands, mortified by your own actions. The laughter is coming, you know it.

And it does. But it’s different than you imagined.

He’s laughing softly. You peek through your fingers. He seems to be…amused?

“You’re so cute,” He says. “So pretty. So endearing, d’ya know that?”

Your voice comes out so small and vulnerable. “Really?”

“Really,” He affirms. “And I…I really want to kiss you, pretty.”

Your eyes meet his. You’re electrified by the genuine want and need in his gaze. He’s serious.

“Then kiss me, Satoru.”

Ah, so there’s the sassy tone you usually have towards him. He chuckles and traces your jawline with his fingers. He savors in the way you squirm and how your breath hitches when his fingers reach your neck.

He leans in and circles his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep kiss. You hold onto his biceps again for support, which flex under your palms as he takes the kiss deeper. You feel even hotter than before, if that was even possible.

He finally breaks the kiss, and you’re surprised to hear his equally shaky breathing. “I really like you, princess. I really like you.”

You laugh softly, pressing a hand against his firm chest. “Satoru, I like you too. If it wasn’t obvious.”

“Maybe it was with the way you practically fell into my lap when you got scared–”

“I did not!!” You bury your face in your hands again.

“Kidding, princess!” He kisses your cheek. “You’re so easy to rile up…Oh, by the way, did you know that I hate classical music?”

“You do? Really? Oh, god, you must have been so bored the whole time, I knew it–!”

“No, no I really enjoyed this. Seriously.” He says with conviction. “I wasn’t faking anything. Ever. It just feels so different with you…”

“Satoru…” You whisper.

He starts leaving kisses on your jawline, causing you to shiver. “You just drive me crazy, princess. ‘Couldn’t stop thinking of you while we were listening. I wanted to kiss you so bad the whole time.”

“Then we gotta make up for the lost time, huh?” You say, pulling him into another kiss.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He sighs, letting himself get lost in you.

Scheherazade continues playing in the background, but it’s on neither of your minds now. You barely even hear it, even though you had been so insistent on listening to the whole thing through before. Even when the ending chords fade out, both you and Satoru are trying to catch your breath, craving more.

Fin.

Thank you for reading!! I don’t feel like it’s my best work, but i hope it’s still a little enjoyable! 🥹 I got the urge to write this out of NOWHERE and wrote it all today…I never do that haha so that was quite the surprise for me.

Note: To all the fellow classical music nerds out there, I’m aware that Scheherazade isn’t actually classical, but…let’s just put that aside, shall we? :) I’m just using layman’s terms so that everyone can understand and enjoy!

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo drabble #gojo oneshot #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #fluff #gojo satoru x you

120 notes · View notes

bleed-more · 20 days

Text

My Updated Headcanons for Seth Wilson

Since a lot of my attention is on Seth right now, I'm writing some updated headcanons for him with things I've learned over the past 4 years! I'm starting with my HCs with evidence and will write my HCs without evidence later >:3c

HEADCANONS WITH EVIDENCE:

- Seth's dog name is Link (Joseph mentioned in a livestream that's Seth the actor's dog's name so in typical MH fashion I imagine dog actor Link also plays dog character Link)

- Seth is about as tall as Brian (this isn't even really a hc but I used to draw him short so I wanted to clear that up)

- Seth did all the TTA entries that include fried images and red motifs (based off of Night Mind's theory that Tim-themed entries are black and white, Brian-themed entries are stereoscopic, and Seth-themed entries are deep-fried/red. They used these colors to both communicate who's speaking AND to let the recipient know who the message is for.)

- Seth used to be Christian but fell out of it by Season 2 (I think Seth is responsible for all the Christian iconography in the first season i.e. stigmata, ark, deluge, etc. considering neither Brian nor Tim were part of TTA yet, and he slowly abandons that faith because.......)

- ...Seth thinks he is a messiah of some kind (from TTA's "Forecast" where he says "AMIAPROPHET." [TW DEAD ANIMALS & ANIMAL CRUELTY FR PLS READ WITH CAUTION] Forecast uses footage from the USSR's "Experiments in the Revival of Organisms: 1940" in which you see a disembodied dog's lung being inflated and deflated by a machine in an effort to keep a dismembered dog's head alive. I don't think it's a coincidence TTA used a dismembered dog to refer to Seth ((or what Seth has become)) and that Seth is both alive(-ish) and has saved others from death, but only in the same fucked up corrupted way you see in the USSR's footage. Which leads me to...)

[END TW]

- ...Seth is trapped somewhere between the line of life and death and is sticking around for the unfinished business of revenge killing Alex (in the TTA entries, while many things are convoluted and unclear, one thing that is very consistent is TTA's hatred of Alex. Seth is vengeful for the death of himself, the attempted and successful murders of his friends. From TTA's "Decay" where Seth is clearly addressing Alex, he says "HE[Jay] WILL LEAD ME[Seth] TO YOU[Alex], LEAD ME TO DEATH[because his job will be done then], LEAD ME TO THE ARK[salvation and an end to his and Alex's suffering])

- Seth is the one responsible for Brian, Tim, and Jay surviving during Alex's first murder attempt (Alex couldn't bring himself to *actually* kill his friends back in 2006, so he lured them to the park and used blunt force trauma to knock them unconscious hoping leaving them for dead out in the park would be enough. Seth, however, had already caught on that something was wrong after Sarah's disappearance (I am going to write a whole thing about this eventually hehehe) and so he knew to be at the park, and after Alex left them, Seth made sure they were safe (there is also info I have here about a lake but that's worth a whole other post, send an ask if you're curious <3)

- And finally, Seth had been well ahead of everyone else in figuring out what was going on (Seth was the camera and tech guy, so it would make sense he would be the first to see what's happening on these cameras, and investigating what might be causing all of this. Seth was the one who coined the term OPERATOR. He understood Alex's actions were being influenced by this creature Seth was seeing while editing Marble Hornets. And I also think Alex knew Seth was catching onto his murder attempts, and that's why Alex took no chances and shot Seth (the first instance of Alex using a gun in the series) instead of hitting him over the head with a pipe and leaving him for the Operator like the others.)

I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK AND IF YOU GUYS HAVE ANY OF YOUR OWN THEORIES THIS WAS REALLY FUN TO WRITE AND I CANT WAIT TO MAKE PART 2 <3

#headcanons #Seth Wilson #Seth headcanons #marble hornets #mh #slenderverse #theories #fan theories #mh seth #totheark #text #writing #my writing #queue

37 notes · View notes

fatuismooches · 1 year

Note

I'M GIGGLING SO HARD LOOKIGN AT WHAT I CAUSED JUST BY SAYING YOU NEED TO WASH DOTTORE😭😭

But this also gave me a brainrot aboit bathing with harbingers

YES PANTALONE IS A RICH BASTARD and uses tons of skin and hair caring products. He enjoys being taken care of and will do the same in return, that's a fair exchange. Just wash his hair and listen to him complaining about his co-workers asking for budget raise for 10th time this month I think he's very stressed and tired by the end of the day, he might even doze off right in bath, since it's warm here and you gently stroke his hair (he looks cute-but wake him up please or he'll end up with sore neck)

Columbina gives me vibe of a person, who uses a lot of silly stuff, like bath bombs or salt. She's playful and will splash you, which will turn into a war with water being all over the floor (poor people who'll have to clean it up..). She's another one to possibly fall asleep in bathtub, so wake her up too. She also sings in shower

We should stop slandering only Dottore, bc Childe is also a type of person to give you a biiig hug, while covered in blood. But, well, he's easier to get to wash himself. Like Bina, he's also playful and will summon small water animals to entertain both of you (he will create a small narval and gently bup it on your nose... Before breaking it, so you'll have water over your face, bc you're so adorable when flushed!! You're allowed to splash him for this)

I think Sandrone forgets about bathing, drowned in her work and if you invite her, Sandrone will say she'll take a quick shower to return to her work. Please convince her to come with you, she needs rest. In bathtub, all of her thoughts are about unfinished projects :(

YEA STINKYTTORE IS SOMETHING ELSE 😭😭💀 AND OMG THANK YOU FOR THESE BRAINROTS💖💖💖

Hehe YES it's obvious Pantalone only uses the most exquisite, high-end products (have you seen his hair? absolutely LUSCIOUS) He probably made a deal with the company to have the stuff delivered to him regularly so he doesn't need to keep buying it lol, but YES he lovesss to pamper you but he also adores being pampered in return. But you gotta make sure you're a pro at it, don't tug or pull on his hair too roughly, be gentle when washing him, you know what I mean. Make sure to sympathize with him and be very soft as he complains to you about how that doctor is using up his funds with no progress. Make sure to give him lots of kisses when he decides the perfect napping place is laying on your chest in the middle of the big af bath tub 😭 (Also get him out of there because a sore Pantalone is a grumpy Pantalone) But he'd also be the kind of guy to be romantic as hell and put candles around the bath and have a book to read in there too :3

AND OMFGG 100% AGREE ON COLUMBINA SHE LOVES TO DO STUFF LIKE THAT. You two always try out new things to put in the bath, I feel like she's really one of those self-care people so your skin is gonna be ultra soft. Though she is extra silly and loves to set you up for literal ATTACKS by her (throw the rubber duckies at her pls) And yea she can fall asleep literally anywhere so try your best to get her out 😭 OMG the singing in the shower😭😭 I love her she definitely gets the best song ideas in there with you... it's brainstorm time

I HATE TO SAY IT BUT YOU'RE 100% RIGHT ON CHILDE...😭😭 Bro comes back after destroying multiple Hilichurl and Treasure Hoarder camps and is ready to hug you to death... baby i love u but CLEAN UP FIRST. But at least he actually loves the baths/the water in general so it's actually quite fun (you're just sad for the person who needs to wash his clothes 💀) He's actually so cute after a shower because his hair is all damp but then you get to see it fluff up back to life with that long ahoge 😭 He's also extra cuddly and won't let go of you <3

SANDRONE BABY NO... get her robots to turn against her. Don't let her leave until she's had a long, warm bath. Her mind will still probably drift to her robots and incomplete puppets... but give her a really good scrub and wash (she won't admit it but she feels way better after working nonstop) (she dives back right into working nonstop again though) Though i feel like she secretly likes to be pampered, lol she doesn't even walk by herself, her robot carries her. So though she doesn't express her gratitude much verbally she is thankful deep down.

#smooches talks #i love this sm ... ugh this sounds so fluffy im crying :(#STOP IVE BEEN IN A SANDRONE LOVIng MOOD LATELY I MISS HER #pantalone love notes <3 #columbina love notes <3 #childe love notes <3 #sandrone love notes <3

80 notes · View notes

mochiwrites · 1 year

Text

last life au

in light of third life turning two years old today, I offer a wip I've had sitting in my google drive since february! if any of you remember this post I made a while back, all you need to know is that third life!grian has swapped places with last life!grian somehow. without further ado, here's my very unfinished and very rough last life au wip (pls don't judge it too harshly LOL)

happy two years to the series that changed me as a person! :D (edit: now posted on ao3! read here)

if you enjoyed, please reblog! reblogs do more than likes <3

To Grian, the desert was once a home.

It wasn’t perfect, not really. Perfection is nearly impossible in a game of death, but what he and Scar had came close. The desert was the farthest thing from a good location, all things considered. The days were hot, far too hot, and the nights were so cold that it left Scar and Grian curling up close for warmth. There was nothing but sand for miles, which made gathering materials a constant challenge.

But they had their home. Their tower, their place of respite. Dogwarts was a constant threat barreling down their door, but together they made it work. Their home was far from perfect, but it was theirs and that’s what Grian came to love about it.

Except now, as he stands in a ring of cacti, he has destroyed his home.

His home is filled with lava and craters, a reminder of what they did to survive. Their desert was ruined days ago in what they had hoped to be the final showdown with Dogwarts and The Red King. They blew up their desert for a win they never achieved.

Maybe that was the first sign that things were going wrong. Their desert, their home, their small temporary sanctuary in this hellish game was blown apart.

Ends justifies the means, no?

After all, to Grian, their home was more than just the desert. Their home was with each other. The desert never mattered much to him, not when he had Scar, and vice versa. The desert was a symbol, more than anything. Of Grian’s debt, his guilt. He’ll never admit it, but it felt a bit liberating to destroy it.

And maybe that’s why things went oh so horribly wrong.

Maybe that is why his fists are shaking, knuckles raw and covered in blood. Maybe that is why he stares down at the bloodied corpse of what was once his partner, his other half. His insides twist and turn, creating a mangled mess of emotions within him. The sun beats down on him, sweat and blood mixing together as one. His hair is in his eyes, but he doesn’t care much. His tank top feels like too much but also too little all at once.

His knuckles ache, his body is sore. He’s hardly covered in bruises and scratches, and yet he still feels like he’s just been beaten half to death anyways.

He can’t bear to look at Scar, to meet his gaze and see his own brightly shining eyes reflected in lifeless, empty ones.

“For everything you’ve done to keep me alive this long, you may slay me and take the enchanter.”

Scar’s words ring in his head, accompanied by his laughter. Grian puts a bloodied hand up to his mouth as a wave of nausea rolls over him. He doesn’t pay any mind to the copper twinge that fills his mouth. He tears his gaze away from anywhere remotely near Scar, instead turning and looking over the mountain.

Their home is in ruins. Their home is gone. The last of their home has been destroyed by his own two hands, killed for the sake of winning some pointless game.

His victory feels hollow. Empty.

He had wanted to win together. Winning without Scar felt… wrong. It feels wrong. After all they’ve been through, after establishing something between them, winning alone just… didn’t look as appealing anymore.

“I’m getting you! I’m getting you good!” “I don’t think you are!”

His hands ache. His chest feels tight, as if his ribs have been coiled tightly around his lungs to constrict his air flow. He takes a slow step back, as if trying to escape the scene of the crime. His legs shake from the weight of both his body and his actions. Grian takes a shaky breath.

“Can we win together?”

He stumbles as he walks backwards, his world dipping and tilting.

Grian won alone.

He doesn’t feel like a winner.

He doesn’t even want that title.

The guilt is eating at him. Why? Why is he the one that survived? The point of all of this was so that Scar could win! That’s why Grian stayed with him!

(He won’t admit to himself that there’s more to it than that. He won’t admit to himself that somewhere along the way his feelings changed. No longer was he staying by Scar’s side out of guilt or obligation. Without Grian even noticing, Scar grew on him. Scar broke through his walls with his ridiculous yet charming nature, and Grian found himself wanting to stay with Scar because he wanted to see him win. Because somehow, somewhere, Grian’s heart had been swayed and stolen. Somewhere, he had fallen in love.)

For a moment, he’s angry. He’s angry at the blood lusting ghosts for demanding a final fight. He’s angry at Scar for letting him win, for making him win. Frustrated, bitter words lay on his tongue as he turns around to admonish the man, emotions getting the better of him.

Only to turn and be met with his corpse. Blood pools around Scar’s body, bruises littering his face and chest. Grian had been throwing punches wildly.

His stomach lurches, and he covers his mouth again. Copper fills his nostrils, heavy and thick. “Oh… I don’t feel good,” he mumbles, but there’s no one around to hear him.

He tears his gaze away, instead surveying the desert around him. His blood is rushing in his ears, making it hard to hear. His head swims as he stands still, looking over at the rivers of lava throughout the desert.

Grian’s eyes settle on the cliff face.

This desert isn’t a home anymore. It’s vacant, empty. Pointless. His home doesn’t exist, not without Scar.

He walks toward the cliff.

“Scar, I’m so sorry!”

“I’m sorry too!”

The desert is unfamiliar, morphing and twisting into something dark and unwelcoming. It has become a monster of Grian’s own creation. It has become something that Grian has ripped apart with his own two hands. Something that once brought him warmth is now cold and barren. The desert is a shadow, a weak imitation of what it once was.

He stands on the ledge.

He wonders what was going through Scar’s mind during all of this. What was he thinking? Does he hate Grian for being the one to survive? Is he at peace, having been the one to die? Does he hate Grian for killing him? Does he hate Grian for ruining their home? Or is he happy with the way that things have gone? Grian supposes he’ll never get to know.

He shuts his eyes and jumps.

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

Muffled noises surround him.

He can’t quite make out what the noises are, not when it feels like his head has been submerged under water. One by one, his senses return to him and huh, that’s weird. He’s dead, yet he can feel his body? That… shouldn’t be normal. Granted, Grian has never been permanently dead before. Do most dead people still feel their body? Is that even possible?

The next thing he feels is something soft underneath him. Now Grian knows that isn’t right. The last thing he remembers feeling is his body slamming into the hard ground below, shattering his bones. The pain had only lasted a few seconds before Grian fell unconscious, but it had been excruciating while he could still feel. Darkness had come to claim him quite swiftly.

But whatever he’s laying on… it feels nothing like the harsh sand. It’s softer, almost silky. Plush. It only serves to confuse Grian more, seeing as once more, he isn’t sure if feeling things still is normal for a dead person.

Ever so slowly, Grian slowly opens his eyes. His eyes are met with a stone ceiling, which… is that supposed to be there?

Grian had a few ideas of what the afterlife would be like – if he even has one. An empty void, or maybe the End. Perhaps he’d return to the wasteland that was once his home and haunt it as a ghost. (A kinder part of him had hoped that he’d reunite with his friends, and they could all cry and hug one another. And maybe he could see Scar again, and shake him around for making Grian kill him, and then hold onto the man so that he’d never lose him again.)

Experimentally, he wiggles a finger or two. Yup, there’s still a body attached to him. Alright. Though to his surprise, he isn’t in any sort of pain. Maybe that shouldn’t be surprising, all things considered.

Something wet touches his hand then, and Grian leaps up with a shriek. He pulls his hand back and looks at whatever touched him, finding a dog sitting on the ground. “Huh?” He looks at the dog, seeing a red collar around its neck. “Why is there a dog here?” The animal simply tilts its head to the side in response.

It’s then that Grian actually takes the time to look around at where he is, and he pauses. The first thing he notices is that he’s laying in a white bed. There’s a chest and a crafting table in front of the bed, and there are dogs just about everywhere. Ah, so that’s what all the noise was. A furnace is set on the floor against the wall, and Grian finds himself feeling very confused.

This is… definitely not the afterlife, that’s for sure.

Did someone rescue him? How? Grian was the only one left on Third Life, everyone else was…

Lips curling in a frown, he moves to slide off of the bed. Just as his foot touches the ground, he pauses, recognizing the extra weight on his body. Looking down at himself, Grian finds iron armor on him, which only worsens his confusion. Why is he in armor?

Standing from the bed, he looks around at the room. He’s certain that he’s underground, if the walls of stone and dirt are anything to go by. He watches as one of the dogs (a pup) clambers onto the bed and circles the pillow before curling up and laying down.

It leaves him feeling very confused.

He casts a glance around at the stone box he’s in, looking at each of the dogs. Some of them don’t pay him any mind, and others are staring right at him. Who’s dogs are these? And why are they here, wherever here is. They seem friendly with him at least, but Grian doesn’t know if that makes him relaxed or more nervous. He remembers Joel’s pack of wolves.

While looking around, he spots a ladder tucked against the wall leading down. He doesn’t go toward it, in case it’s trapped. Instead, he looks at the pickaxe he has on him and uses that to cautiously dig a little staircase up.

It takes him a few minutes to get to the surface, considering he’s trying to dig out and also listen to his surroundings. When he finally pops his head out from the dirt, he does so carefully, peeking out to look around him. There’s no one around him besides trees and mountains. He sighs softly in relief. Though he still has to remain vigilant.

Climbing out of the hole, he covers it back up with dirt (just in case if he was saved by someone, they won’t immediately notice he’s gone). Standing at full height, Grian takes a look around. The first thing he notices is how the landscape is completely different to Third Life. What is this place, he wonders. The terrain all looks different.

Lips dipping in a frown, he sets his hands on his hips, “Definitely not in Kansas anymore…” he mumbles to himself. If this is the afterlife, it’s quite odd, that’s for sure.

While looking around, he catches sight of something in the distance. It looks like some kind of cobblestone building with roofs of dark oak. From where he is, he can spot four of them. One is at the very top of a mountain, being the most visible.

The idea of approaching it leaves Grian hesitant, but maybe a little investigation wouldn’t hurt. He’s going to have to check it out if he wants any answers as to what this place is. So he makes a journey toward the direction of the towers. Trekking through the trees, he uses the branches for coverage.

And when he gets to the big entrance of the four towers, he pauses.

Grian stares at the front entrance, watching as pistons move up and down in front of him. Watching it, his eyes follow the movements curiously. Surrounding the entrance are walls of dark oak and cobble, wrapping around the base completely. He considers walking inside, maybe exploring whatever this new structure is. There was nothing inside the chest within the bunker for him.

His inventory is an assortment of different items, none of which Grian knows what’s important and what isn’t. By now he’s ascertained that he’s in fact not dead. Which is… confusing. How is he alive? And where is he?

“Oh, Grian!” Someone’s calling his name, and the sound of someone else’s voice makes him jump. He looks up, seeing a familiar blue and red jump suit and dirty blond hair.

Grian’s eyes widen, “Tim..?” The name escapes him with a sharp breath. No longer does his skin look sickly and gray, instead healthy and free of blood. His hair is vibrant, as are his brown eyes. A diamond chest plate sits over his upper body, iron leggings and boots. Grian almost feels like he’s seeing a ghost. The last time he saw Jimmy, it had been in the desert. Right before he died.

It feels weird to see him again, considering he wasn’t meant to die in that fight. He was meant to stay safe. With Scar.

Grief and regret crashes into him at once, nearly knocking him over. Images of that battle flicker in his mind, as well as the aftermath. They hadn’t spent long at Jimmy’s grave.

(Grian paid Jimmy’s grave a visit late that night. He had been fully aware of the risks, knowing that anyone from Dogwarts could attack him. But Grian could bet with certainty they were too busy enjoying a perceived victory against the Desert.

Jimmy’s grave was nothing fancy. Extravagance was a privilege they didn’t have there. Simple cobblestone walls and a poppy planted in the ground was all Scott could give him.

Grian sat down, and apologized. He hadn’t even been there for Jimmy’s death. Jimmy wasn’t supposed to die. And Grian hadn’t even been there to help him. He apologized for that. He promised revenge. His death would not be in vain.

At some point, someone had joined him. A warmth slotted against his side, and the smell of sweat, burnt sand, and summer heat filled his senses. He relaxed.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Grian leaned against Scar, letting his thoughts wander.

“I’m sorry the trap got messed up.” Scar apologized with a low mutter.

Grian huffed quietly, gently knocking his head against his arm,“I don’t care about that. I mean, I do since the only one it got was me, but — I’m more thankful you survived.”

“…I’m sorry you died,” was Scar’s response, “But on the bright side, your debt’s been repaid! You’re a free man!” Grian knew Scar well enough by then to know when he was forcing himself to act cheerful. He could hear the underlying sadness in his voice, the way he was holding something back. But most of all he could hear the fear.

To that, Grian only pressed himself more firmly against him. “Then my first act as a free man is to see this through with you until the end.”

He heard Scar take a breath; shaky and rough. An arm wrapped around him, and he heard a murmured, “Thank you.”)

Jimmy looks a little nervous as he stands on the other side of the pistons, “What’re you doing all the way over there for? Get in ‘ere already!” he exclaims, gesturing for him to come in. “Mumbo disabled the trap!”

His body moves as if it’s on autopilot, legs carrying him toward the gate. He clumsily hops over the pistons and line of stone bricks, landing on the other side. His footing is a bit clumsy as he hits the ground, wobbling slightly. Jimmy laughs at him, and Grian tries to process the sound.

Jimmy isn’t dead. He’s alive.

What in the world is going on?

Grian goes over to him, staring at him with something akin to marvel. Jimmy turns to him, still looking nervous. “So uh… I’m not going to be kicked out, right? I know we had the vote and all yesterday but just wanted to triple check you didn’t change your mind overnight,” he rambles to Grian, shifting back and forth on his feet.

“What?” Blinking in confusion, Grian looks at him. “Why would I be—”

“Oi, Tim! Give the man some space to breathe, would ya?” Another voice joins them, and Grian tenses at the familiarity. “He only just got back last night. At least wait an extra five minutes before you start pestering ‘im.”

Glancing to his side, he spots The Red King’s right hand man approaching them. He’s dressed in iron, a shield attached to his arm. The familiar black bandana peeks out from underneath his hair and his blue eyes are creased with amusement as he looks at the pair. “Martyn?!” The exclamation escapes him before he can stop it. He takes a small step in front of Jimmy, knowing that Scott would be crushed if he lost him a second time (The memory of Scott in his mind would be, anyways). He keeps himself on guard.

Martyn smiles at the pair, “Good morning to you too, fellow Southlander!” He grins. “How’s it feel to be yellow again, eh Grian?” he questions, which makes Grian bristle slightly. He remembers Martyn taking his first life very clearly.

“I’m–”

“Watch out!” A voice calls out, followed by the sounds of feet hitting the ground. Grian jumps as someone barrels past himself and Martyn, cutting right through them in a blur of black. “Hot lava bucket in my hands!”

“I told you to wear gloves!” A second voice follows, and Grian catches a glimpse of yellow and black. He turns his head in the direction the two voices went, seeing them both by the entrance of the fort. Almost instantly, Grian recognizes Impulse from behind. But the one next to him…

Grian feels his entire body freeze. His breath is punched out of him, eyes widening.

The man next to Impulse is setting the bucket of lava down with a large sigh, shoulders sagging in relief. He straightens up, taking a moment to glance around. His eyes lock with Grian’s, and Grian feels rooted to his spot. His throat feels dry, as if he hasn’t drank anything in weeks. He swallows, but it does little to rid the feeling.

Oblivious to Grian’s freezing, the man smiles wide at him, hurrying over. “Grian!” he exclaims, “Glad you got here before I reset the trap, mate, “ he greets cheerfully, but Grian feels too stunned to speak.

Why is Mumbo here? Why?

A multitude of emotions crash into Grian’s chest at the sight of his best friend. Relief, horror, guilt. They each roll over him, loud and vicious as they threaten to overwhelm him. He can’t look away from the man, the feeling of confusion holding his head above water.

(“Do you think Mumbo would be proud?” The question had been half nonchalant as the pair ran through the desert, digging deep underground. The true meaning of the question was a secret, one between only himself and Scar.

Scar paused to consider it. He had lifted a finger to his chin as he thought, “Oh! Mumbo would be crying from happiness!”

“Be honest with me.” Grian had said.

Scar hadn’t been.)

Standing in front of the man, Grian does not share the thought. Not after the blood staining his hands. And isn’t that ironic? In a game where your aim is to kill and survive, he feels guilty over killing. But maybe that’s because of who his final kill was. Because of how it all ended. Grian had hoped he’d never have to face Mumbo after that, but apparently fate had other plans.

“Speaking of getting here early,” Martyn’s voice cuts through the fog of confusion settling over Grian’s mind, causing him to look over at the other. Grian forces his gaze away from Mumbo with a painful pang, meeting Martyn’s eyes, “I see you’ve gone and scored another life on your way back from Scar’s.” He wiggles his brows.

Just hearing Scar’s name causes Grian’s stomach to curl with grief, “W-What?” he asks, the shock of Martyn’s statement sending him back a small step.

“Don’t you try and fool me, G, the last time we saw you you were on yellow life. And now you’re green!” Martyn points at his wrist, and naturally, Grian’s gaze follows.

His heart squeezes uncomfortably tight as he sees the familiar line of hearts down his wrist. There’s three hearts on his wrist, green, yellow, and red. Nausea rolls over him like a blanket, wrapping around him and tightening around his neck. He feels sick. Why? Why?! He thought he was done with all of this! Was killing Scar not enough? Was winning an empty, meaningless victory not enough?!

Is this his punishment? Or some sick kind of joke?!

He clenches his fists, watching the way they shake from how tightly he clenches them. Burning hot anger runs through him like lava, melting his insides. The warmth goes from top to bottom, engulfing him in an angry, vicious flame. He feels too much, yet too little all at once. He wants to scream. To cry. Maybe break something, or blow something up. Blood is pumping in his ears; his heart feels like it’s going to burst.

This isn’t the afterlife. This is hell.

“Grian?” Mumbo’s gentle, concerned voice breaks through the anger threatening to overtake him like a light. The sound of his voice snaps him from his spiraling thoughts, and he notices how his fingers dig uncomfortably into his skin. As if his nails can break the hearts on his wrist, shatter them. He lets go instantly, seeing angry red lines left behind.

Lifting his gaze, Grian sees four pairs of eyes watching him. Yet the only eyes he focuses on are Mumbo’s, it’s been so long since he’s seen the man. His presence is normally a comfort for Grian, something grounding. But right now, all Grian feels is conflict. His grief and guilt is suffocating, and Mumbo’s presence does little to help that feeling. Mumbo looks at him with nothing but concern and kindness, with the way his eyebrows dip and lower, a worried frown marring his face.

Mumbo takes a step closer, hand reaching out to him, “You alright, mate?” Looking down, Grian sees the man’s wrist. Four hearts go down his wrist in a line. Two of them are already gone, looking faded and cracked. The sight of the hearts on his wrist sends his stomach dropping, heart lodging in his throat.

Grian recoils from his outstretched hand as if it were a weapon, and Mumbo freezes in place. He pulls his hand back. His face falls, and Grian pretends he doesn’t see.

“I’m fine.” Grian hastily replies, ignoring the burst of pain in his chest. He scans the people around him. Mumbo, Impulse, Jimmy, and… Martyn. He takes a breath. So he’s stuck in another life game. Great. And it looks like these four are his… alliance.

A sudden thought strikes him. If those four are here then… who else is here?

His communicator pings, and he pulls it up, heart still firmly lodged in his throat.

<GoodTimeWithScar> oh team BEST~

<GoodTimeWithScar> A wizard *never* forgets his promise.

If seeing Mumbo made him sick, then seeing Scar’s message in chat plunges him into freezing cold water. Scar’s name is red (of course it is), and it sends nostalgia and grief tearing through him all at once. Everything suddenly feels like it’s too much, his head swimming. He stumbles slightly, nearly falling if it hadn’t been for Jimmy taking hold of him. “Seriously, you alright?” Jimmy questions, and Grian… Grian doesn’t know.

All he can think about is his final moments with Scar leading up to that stupid duel. The splashing of water below him as he jumped down to meet him in that shallow pond.

“Betrayer!” he had screamed.

Well look who’s laughing now.

Grian had thought about it very briefly, in his final moments, what it’d be like if he ever met Scar again. He had wondered if Scar would scorn him, or if Scar would pull him into his arms and congratulate him on a battle well fought. He had also considered keeping his distance, as far away as possible, as to never hurt Scar again.

And yet, just as usual, his heart never listens to his brain.

Because as he looks at his communicator, watching the others reply in chat, his eyes only focus on Scar’s name. There’s a part of him, a very deep part within, that cries out for him. It sees Scar’s name, and it reaches. It reaches far and wide, and it doesn’t concern itself with the logical side of Grian’s brain. No, it simply sees the fact that Scar is clearly alive and well and it wants to run right toward him.

Seeing Scar’s name makes Grian’s chest ache with a deep yearning that he knows can never be satisfied. There is an ache in him that he knows will only continue to eat away at himself, until he is rotting and reaching. His soul is crying, begging for Scar at his side, and though Grian knows that he will only be the catalyst to Scar’s ultimate demise, he is weak to the pull of his emotions.

Grian’s other half is alive! He is alive and that part of Grian feels incomplete without him. Empty. His heart aches at the thought of being with Scar again, of being able to give him the apology he deserves. Just the thought of being able to apologize to him is enough to break Grian down.

“S-Scar,” he stammers, completely forgetting that Jimmy even asked him a question. “He’s – I have to get to him,” he says, turning to the others.

He’s met with varying expressions of confusion, though it’s Impulse who says something, “Didn’t you already bring him his stuff after he died?” he questions, and Grian quickly shakes his head.

“No I just – where is he? I-I need to see him, I–” he stammers, thoughts running far too quickly for him to actually think coherently.

“Up north dude, where he always is.” Martyn replies, though he’s looking at Grian with… something. If he weren’t so distracted by the thought of Scar, he’d probably look closer into that. However, distraction is the card he’s been dealt, and he lets it play. He spins on his heel for the exit, walking briskly with purpose. “Make sure he doesn’t kill you!” Martyn calls after him, “Remember the guy’s on red!"

Grian knows he won’t.

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

If Grian is being honest with himself, he probably should have put more thought into this. He didn’t even come here with a plan! He had just heard that Scar was north, so north is where he went. He was moving too fast for his brain to actually catch up.

It was a bit of a journey, getting from the cobbled towers (the Southlanders, his mind supplies) to the big mountain in the north. But the second he saw the hut on top of the mountain, he knew exactly who lived there.

Maybe what made the journey so difficult was the thoughts that accompanied him.

Grian won’t say that he ran to Scar’s — because he didn’t. Not really. He had walked. And his thoughts consumed him with every step.

He’s stuck in another life game. Scar is here. Mumbo is here. He doesn’t know what it means. This game isn’t Third Life, he knows that much. His mind is scrambling, trying to come up with some kind of plan. A strategy. He’s trying to lay out a safety net for himself but he should’ve known from the start it’d be pointless.

There are no safety nets in a game of death. There are no “plans”, despite how badly Grian may want to use one. He learned in Third Life that plans don’t work, even the most carefully planned strategy blows up in his face. It won’t stop him though. A plan gives him something to fall back on, a faux comfort.

A plan keeps him from running headfirst into danger, a plan keeps him alive.

Which is why he probably should’ve come up with a plan before going to Scar. He doesn’t know what kind of state the man will be in. He isn’t sure how to even approach a reunion with him. It’s obvious that he’s in some kind of… who even knows where. Obviously his friends all know him here, but he isn’t sure if they remember him. Who he is. What he’s done. What they’ve all done.

It doesn’t help that he’s apparently been dropped right in the middle of this new game.

He doesn’t know how to handle an approach to Scar. Hug him? Smack him? Ask him if he knows who he is? A no on that last one, Jimmy and the others have already answered that. Besides, Grian isn’t sure if he could handle Scar looking at him like Grian was a stranger in every sense of the word except the literal one.

He settles on just seeing what happens. Sometimes no plan is the best plan!

But just — not in a death game.

His thoughts trail off as he approaches the bottom of the mountain, and he looks up. He grimaces as he gets a clearer view of the hut up top, sighing. “Of course Scar had to put his base in the most precarious spot ever,” he grumbles before beginning to make his way up the mountain. He makes sure to be careful with each step, keeping himself aware of where he’s stepping.

When he makes it to the top of the mountain, he’s rather out of breath, chest heaving from exertion. This mountain is a lot bigger than the one back in the desert. But he reaches the top, and is face to face with a hut made of wood and dark stone. The roof on top looks like a wizard’s hat, and Grian can’t help his fond huff.

He focuses his gaze on the entryway, finding it wide open. This is it. Scar is beyond that doorway. Grian’s hands shake just at the thought of seeing him again. Anxiety runs through his blood like water, filling him completely. His heart picks up, beating against his ribcage. He swallows thickly.

A small part of him wants to run away. A small part of him wants to turn around and head right back down the mountain and forget that he even came here. A small part of him is afraid to look Scar in the eyes. It makes him feel like a coward.

And yet despite that small part of him, Grian walks forward.

He walks right into the hut, and promptly stops. Right in front of him is none other than Scar. He’s digging around in a barrel, humming to himself. Grian isn’t sure what the tune is, or where it’s from, but the scene feels familiar. His chest aches.

“Scar?” he says, causing the man to yell out.

He jumps up in surprise, letting out the typical fearful scream he does whenever he’s snuck up on. It makes Grian smile softly, and god he misses this man. Scar spins around on his heels, turning to look at Grian. Grian gets a good look at his eyes, and he sees a dark red haze swirling in them. There is not a hint of warmth in his eyes, no kind of recollection or even joy at seeing him. Grian isn’t sure what he sees in Scar’s eyes, but he knows that there is anger in them. Bloodlust.

(He thinks he might see hatred. And that is a thought that shakes him right to his core. He does not want to live in a world where Scar hates him, even if it is justified. Does that make him selfish?)

“Oh, Grian,” Scar eventually says, and his voice is cold. Empty. He takes a step forward, something whimsical about his footing. Scar is dressed in dark robes, stark white hair peeking out from underneath. “If you’re here to nab another life from me, Grian, I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. There is a promise of a threat in his voice.

Grian frowns at that, chest panging. “I’m not interested in your life, Scar,” he says matter of factly. He’s already taken one (two, if his guilt counts the creeper), he doesn’t want another one.

A laugh spills from Scar, something lacking any real humor. “Oh, don’t you play with me!” he exclaims, voice sharp and angular. The sound of it causes Grian to jolt in surprise. “You can fool me once or twice! Or…” he trails off, thinking. “Three times, whatever, it doesn’t matter!”

“Scar…” Grian says, and he quickly realizes that he probably should’ve prepared himself a bit more. He lets the other approach him. There’s something different about him compared to Third Life. Something bitter, cynical. Grian isn’t sure if it’s because of the nature of this new game, or if it’s simply because Scar is on red.

“No, Grian!” Scar exclaims, reaching for his diamond sword. “You know, I was planning on hitting Team BEST first, give ‘em a real good thrashing. Send a message and all that! Can’t mess with ol’ Scar! Not anymore, no sir!” He takes another step toward Grian.

It’s the instinct of green life, Grian knows, that has him backing away slowly. He takes a few tiny steps backwards.

Scar looks at him, something angry and hurt in his gaze, “But I think you’ll make a good first message to the masses. You were the first to take advantage of me, after all.”

Grian’s back slams into the wall behind him, crushing his wings. He cringes at the feeling, but he doesn’t move. Scar is cornering him, holding the blade to his throat. He easily towers over Grian, putting just enough pressure on his sword to spill a bit of blood.

Looking at him, Grian doesn’t see a hint of the Scar he once knew. He isn’t quite sure what’s going on here, what the Grian of this game has done to wrong Scar, but what he does know is this.

He killed Scar.

And the hatred in Scar’s eyes isn’t misplaced or even misdirected.

He doesn’t fight back against the blade on his throat, the blade that is spilling his blood. He simply stands there and meets Scar’s hazy red eyes. To Grian, he thinks this is good retribution for the cactus ring. He sees no point in fighting against Scar when this is something he believes he deserves.

Yet Scar thinks otherwise.

See, he had expected a lot out of today. He’s on red now, and he had a goal in mind. He was going to make everyone on this forsaken server regret thinking they could just use Scar as they please. He was going to start with BEST, and then work his way to the others. But then Grian just came waltzing in like they were old buddies and Scar wasn’t going to let a golden opportunity slip past him.

He has a whole separate issue with Grian, after all.

But as he stares into Grian’s eyes, he sees something odd. Firstly he stares up at Scar with blatant confusion and hurt. It makes him want to laugh. What does Grian possibly have to be hurt over?

Though that isn’t what makes him pause. No, what makes him truly falter is the guilt he sees in Grian’s eyes.

He observes the green life in front of him (Wasn’t Grian yellow? Did he swindle someone else out of a life?) and notices that there’s no fight. Grian isn’t pushing back against him. He’s not arguing or drawing his own weapon. Not even as Scar draws blood and pushes the blade harder.

Suddenly the appeal of killing Grian leaves him. What fun is a kill that rolls over and exposes their weak point?

Scar scoffs at him before making up his mind and taking a step back. So much for that perfect message in chat. Looks like Team BEST is back as his number one target. He lowers his sword completely.

Grian watches him with confusion, “Scar?”

The red life meets his gaze, a deep frown settling on his lips. “Who are you?”

#scarian #trafficshipping #third life smp #last life smp #last life au #mochi writes #I really want to get back to writing this one omg #once I'm on summer break.....#anyways! third life my beloved #cannot believe it's two years old #I wasn't around at the start but I'm here now and AUGH

137 notes · View notes

candycrypt1d · 3 months

Note

Please share the beef between Kyouya and Yaalon again. It's one of my favorite dynamics of your ocs. Like I can see them fighting in my head constantly. They're awful /aff <3. What is up with these two lmao

ohhhh my god them. the guys ever. yeah they sure do have A Thing huh

for those unaware yaalon is my beyblade oc. this fella

he’s very angsty and emo if you couldn’t immediately tell and he has a lot of lore that I won’t get into for this post (tho pls ask if you want to Know 👀)

anyways the actual answer to the question is under the cut!

To make a long story short, Yaalon is a sub member for Team Starbreaker, though he’s not really a part of Hades Inc. He’s trying to stop Ziggurat’s plans from within basically, but he’s not an undercover agent or anything either. Like I said before it’s a whole thing. Anyways Yaalon has a very abrasive and loud personality when you get him riled up. Otherwise he seems very reclusive and quiet, mostly keeping to himself.

Yaalon and Kyouya meet each other during Metal Masters. Wild Fang is leaving for Japan and Starbreaker happens to have a match in the same city. Yaalon and Kyouya are walking down the same street and they run into each other, Yaalon mumbles an apology and starts to walk away.

Though Kyouya’s interest is piqued because, in all of the battles so far though, Yaalon hasn’t fought in any of them. His other teammates clean up the competition so quickly they don’t need him, so his abilities and skills are all secret. Which means Kyouya is like “if I fight him then I will give myself a tactical advantage and this isn’t an excuse to battle someone new, what do you mean?” so being the person is he challenges Yaalon, half expecting to be ignored. But to his surprise, Yaalon accepts.

They have their battle but it ends up being unfinished for some reason, haven’t worked out those specifics. Kyouya doesn’t like having unfinished battles so that ticks him off, but also the two of them just…have very similar personalities so they don’t play off each other well at first lmao.

I can see them actually getting along when they do sort out their differences, but when you have two very anger-prone people in the same room it’s only a matter of time before they get pissed off. Yaalon’s attitude in general just makes Kyouya mad because he acts so aloof and uncaring and Kyouya can’t stand not getting a reaction out of him.

And Yaalon doesn’t like being bothered in that way so when Kyouya pushes his buttons, he *really* pushes them. I think they’d get into useless arguments or just be like “ugh I can’t STAND him” while actually not minding each other’s company all that much. They’d just have to sit in silence for things to work fjfnsng

They have a begrudging respect for each other but that doesn’t mean they like it. I can absolutely see them riling each other up and picking at each other’s nerves like siblings LMAO. theyre so dumb i love them.

thanks for the ask and thanks for letting me ramble about my oc <3 and thank you if you read this far lmao

#sighs. Them #rambles #answers #mfb #beyblade #yaalon tag #my ocs #my art #beyblade oc #beyblade metal fight #kyoya tategami #metal fight beyblade

5 notes · View notes

diareblogsstuff · 2 years

Text

Disclaimer: I wanted to open a series and write to every episode something, but I already caved after EP 1 and simply not have the time for such thing. Now it sat here for months unfinished/unposted and I decided to at least post what I wrote, so it doesn't go to waste. I hope whoever takes the time to read this you enjoy. Uh... spoilers for an anime that came out in 2001, i guess...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- !LONG POST INCOMING! So I started to watch the kirby anime... I finally caved and started watching the anime. The english dub available on YT to be specific and it's an experience. While i've seen many thinks about here in tumblr, seeing it for myself is an experience.

Right now I only saw 2 episode and pause probaly all 5 seconds to take screenshots, so i decided to share those and some of my thoughts.

Enough rambleing, spoilers for "Kirby right back at ya (2001)" ahead.

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

It starts out good enough, I thought, a nice night shot with some random bird that likely won't be relevant. (I know better now)

Gotta say, these sheep designs are very cute. You just wanna join them.

Little did I know, I will mirror these cuties in a second.

Like stars above, that thing is huuugge. Little naive me thought to herself: Huh, what could this monster possible want from these tiny walking fluff balls which i like to cuddle?

HA HA HA, what THE FUCK.

And then it FLIES AWAY to the castle, that for some reason looks really abondend when i look at it now. I really thought it was some old empty castle.

And while i still sat there in silent shook about the pile of bones that just fell down the screen, the intro kicks in. And it has no right to be that catchy. It also explains the general plot pretty good. If you don't wanna see the anime, at least threat yourself to that. It also indirectly warns about the random 3D models that appers suddenly.

Now that i write this down, i realise that, while most likely not intentional, it fits that Octagon (that's it's name, I'm not kidding) eats the sheep. Cause it's a monster from Nightmare Interprises and "counting sheep" is a cliche methode to fall asleep to pleasend dreams.

(I bet that Shepard didn't get a smidge of rest after that happend.)

The first look at the child, adorable like always, sitting in a spaceship.

I actuelly feared that they replaced his wrap star with this. Don't get me wrong i like the design, but that star is too iconic to be made into a ship.

"It's big and it's scary and it eats everything in sight!"

"That's King Dedede!"

I actuelly laughed at that, no amused exhale through the nose, but like an actuell laugh. As far as I'm aware, Escargon is a anime only, but he already scored is on my good side.

Like i already mentioned with the intro, the 3d is scaring. But hey, first Waddle Dee's apperence.

And also the first apperence of this Dreamlands most judgemental child and her little brother.

Personal Headcanon Time: Tiff and her family are the same species as Garlude and Jerico(?) (Meta Knight's other friend idk if that is his canon name, the guy with the shild and the locket)

(Like i said, I've been spoilered about certained things.)

"You might be right Tiff, a monster is the kind of thing Dedede would like."

"He must be behind this!"

I'll come back to this later, keep it in mind for now, pls.

"Want me to check him in for a two-week stay in the dungeon sweet kingy."

It speaks for itself.

So what i gather from this scene is that Dedede has ordered monsters before and later it's shown that he has the delivery system already installed. The Salesman from eNeMe adresses him like they spoke before.

And the Cappies act like this is the first time they had to deal with this or they wouldn't ask Kabu for advice...

Spoilers for episode 3

Like what's going on? In a later episode Meta Knight drops some lore about how he came to Dreamland cause he figured out Dedede owns and uses a delivery system so he stuck around, hopeing it would attract Kirby's Spaceship to the planet. Why is Dedede ordering monsters and what does he do with them before Kirby shows up??

I know Tiff and Tuff are only children, but the whole "Is Kirby the monster that ate the sheep?" dicussion can be easily solved by saying that he just arrived on the planet and the townsfolk tell Kabu that this happend three nights in a row now before Kirby even crashed there. Like how is he supposed to have done that? And the shepard clearly states that he saw it and it looked like an octupus...

More piles of bones!

Also Tiff shows quick thinking and gets the fuck out of there before they incriminate themselves by standing in the middle of the crime scene.

But they hide in the house of the shepard which is just a small shack. Where does that Cappy store his sheep when it's rainy? And how many are there if this is the fourth time in a row the landscape is littered with bones? Wait... does the Cappy sleep with his sheep? Cause all there is in this tiny barn is straw...

By the way, Tiff & Tuff don't get far with their interrogation due to being found almost immidently.

Why does one of the Knights sound like he speaks keysmash out loud? Like what accent were they going for? The first time i saw this i concentrated way to hard on trying to understand him that...

... I got almost taken out by Meta Knight talking. I Thought that was a Fandom thing that he's spanish but nooo.

#kirby right back at ya #liveblogging #DiaRambles #kirby

5 notes · View notes

racingliners · 2 years

Text

F1 2022 Re-watch: Round 3 - Australia

So yeah re some previous rambly posts, I subbed to F1 TV because I was kind of tuned out for the bulk of the 2022 season and bc it ended up being Seb’s last season in F1, I wanted to re-watch all of them in full. bc Seb caught covid (😭) I’m starting from Australia!

Since I’m mainly doing this for the laughs I have no idea what I’m doing avwvguhrgug I’ll probably put a lap number before any sarcastic comment for context.

Anyway, onwards! (under a read more bc this will get chatty)

Starting with the F1 intro. noice. (quietly bops)

As I am a religious Channel 4 viewer I just got major whiplash from Will Buxton doing commentary esblhrlbi.

I actually really like Albert Park, it’s not a bad track, dare I say it quite underrated.

Seb in 17th, the AMR22 really was a tractor 😭

Jolyon Palmer?!?!? I forgot he worked for F1 these days.

I’m also really not used to Aus not being the tradional season opener. Does not pass the vibe check.

[Start/Lap 1]: A clean turn 1???? sounds very fake.

A clean first sector???? sounds very fake

My god I can’t believe the grid all had their braincells on the first lap. Astounding.

[Lap 2]: nvm Sainz spun into the gravel. (I very vaguely remember this from C4 Highlights)

Unrelated, Zhou’s helmet design is really pretty.

[Lap 3]: Aston Martin Safety Car!! My beloved!! (The soft spot I now have for them after Seb’s two seasons with AM asdfghjkl)

[Lap 5]: Oh, pitting Lance to run the mandatory compound for 1 lap, then pitting again for hards. That’s clever. (Bernie Collins and Seb shared AM’s braincell lets be real).

I’ve also very suddenly realised that while I’m re-watching all of Seb’s races from 2022 bc it was his last season, there is no guarantee I will see much of Seb. I did not think this through.

I have once again slipped back into the routine of constantly checking for Seb’s name on the leaderboard. (pls don’t ask me how I’m going to cope this year bc I probably won’t)

I’m also humming the jaws theme everytime one car gets close to another.

Still not used to Will Buxton commentary eagheguh Palmer & Sam Collins are great though!!

[Lap 11]: Not Seb going through the gravel and dropping to plum last 😭

[Lap 12]: The McLarens following the Mercs. Merc on Merc powertrain violence

[Lap 13]: “Lots of unforced driver error” It’s because we had such a clean first lap that the racing gods demanded clownery as payment.

Unrelated but I said this to a mate the other day, but I miss glossy car liveries!! The matte ones are fine but shiny liveries just hit different. (Merc please go chrome for 2023 it would be v sexy)

[Lap 16]: Anyway Seb in P16 woo

Kevin mowing the lawn at turns 9 and 10

[Lap 18] Ah Leclerc leading Verstappen by almost 9 seconds. Remember when we had hope for the title fight? (Man watching the season long Ferrari clown show back is going to be fun, and by fun I mean devastating).

Speaking of car liveries, please have less black on the car this year McLaren. It just makes the car look unfinished. The accents of blue are so pretty though.

(I love how this is the most important thing on my mind rn eaugheuigh)

[Lap 22]: Seb thinking about an overtake!!! And the camera cut away!! why???

[Lap 24]: Seb DNF noooooo 😭😭😭😭

(I really should have looked up race results before starting this huh)

Well, zero joy sparked. But I have paid for F1 TV so we carry on through gritted teeth.

The AMR22 was a tractor, but damn it she was a beautiful tractor.

[Lap 25] “Keep getting unlucky with safety cars” Me 🤝 Lewis: Permanently traumatised by the 2021 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix

“The only time we will see an Aston Martin leading the race this weekend” Will Buxton I will fight you

[Lap 26]: THE FUCK Yuki, Mick do not frighten me like that.

I still keep checking for Seb on the leaderboard even though he’s out. Pain.

Back on livery watch: The blue and pink Alpine my beloved.

[Lap 30] oh we have passed half-distance. yay.

Lewis getting past Nando: ‘Cause I seee sparks flyyyyy’

[Lap 33] Bold of anyone to call Magnussen “Alonso’s rear gunner”

[Lap 35] Cuts to Leclerc in case we forgot about him

[Lap 36] “Is that Ferrari very slow or...?” “No that’s just how it looks” And yet Apollo gave them the gift of prophecy re the second half of the season 😭

Another livery watch update: Alpha Romeo v pretty.

[Lap 39]: Oop Verstappen DNF

Back to livery watch: Red Bull I’m begging you to go back to having a dark metallic blue instead of the matte navy. Keep the bright red tho.

The “Leclerc you’re my red flag” sign. Bestie that does not mean what you think it means.

[Lap 41]: The midfield once again saving the entertainment value of the race. I fully support Fernando’s rights to go a little bit feral.

Albert Park when the sun starts to go down >>>>>

(Yes a circuit’s aesthetic/surroundings completely plays into whether or not I like it. shh)

[Lap 45]: ...did AM tell Lance that he got a penalty or?????

[Lap 46]: How did I not notice Albon in P7??? pet power! (he still had to stop but whatevs)

[Lap 48] Albon on 46 lap old tyres 😳

I have now learned I’m watching the F1 TV feed and not the global feed (which I’m assuming is Sky F1???) so I’ll need to actually pay attention to what I’m clicking on for the next race 😅

[Lap 49]: It’s taken almost the whole race for Nando to start bitching on the radio iaefbhsebh. At least it feels like a race now (said with the upmost affection for my favourite menace to society)

[Lap 51]: There you go Nando, Pierre got past Lance

also is Alex going to pit at some point???

“I think don’t hit the one [car] painted the same as yours” F1 TV make Sam the lead commentator pls.

“The McLaren is a quick car” words I thought I would never hear

[Lap 54]: Charles 🤝 RBR Seb: Can I go for the fastest lap 👀

I also think it’s bs that you have to finish in the top 10 to get a point for the fastest lap. If you get the fastest lap, you should get the point. Don’t disrespect the non-points finishers like that @FIA

[Lap 56]: Three laps left and Albon still hasn’t pitted

Williams did you forget about your driver????

Shit I’m emotionally invested in Albon now

Oh man if his tyre fails I will not take it well

[Lap 57]: Don’t cut to Leclerc!!! I need to know if Albon has pitted yet!!!

There he is!!!

[Lap 58] “Are you still awake” Perez @ Williams pit wall

Oh thank fudge Albon pitted

[Lap 58/end] Charles & Ferrari taking a dominant win. doesn’t feel real tbh.

Albon got P10!!!! hell yeah!!!

Charles really did learn from Seb by going for fastest lap despite being told not to vvuuehrfgusrhguh

Rocky name drop!!! Yes I’m still fond of him shhh

Okay so that race was a bit of a slow burn, ty to the midfield for bringing the bulk of the entertainment. Overall 6 and a half front wings out of 10.

#F1 Liveblog #Australian GP 2022 edition #F1 Re watch #F1 2022 re watch #(going to us this tag as well since this is niche liveblogging)

1 note · View note

youareunbearable · 3 years

Text

Headcannon that Celebrimbor and Thranduil were childhood Frenemies because I don't like how the Mirkwood Elves were left out of everything that happened so pls enjoy this fliclet

---

Once the Feanorians touched down in Hithlum, Thingol sent his younger brother's brother in law Oropher to be his ambassador. Oropher, of course, brings his son Thranduil along because this is a great chance for diplomatic training

Maedhros, this is during the time Morgoth is sending his own persistent ambassadors, thinks it would also be a great time to start Celebrimbor on diplomatic training, because before this he was just in the forge with Curufin and Feanor. And it doesn't look like the rest of the Sons of Feanor are going to have kids so he'll be inheriting the crown one day.

So Celebrimbor and Thranduil are pushed together on children "play dates"

They hate it, they always fight with each other and have competitions and as soon as they see each other they will throw down and scream new insults they learned since the last time they met. Sometimes they spent entire visits only speaking to each other in their own native tounges and mock the other for not properly understanding what they are saying. This particular game didn't last long, but Tyelpe did become the first of the Noldor to speak Sindarin fluently with no accent and Thranduil enjoys the annoyed tick in Galadriel's typical serene expression when she hears him speak flawless Quenya with a Feanorian lisp

Oropher is concerned, being the youngest of 4 he never had an antagonistic relationship with any of them. But Maglor (the new depressed Noldor High King) just gives a small smile and shrugs. He grew up with 6 brothers and even more half cousins. Little Tyelpe and Thrandy are just playing like boys and future best friends do

And they keep up this frenenimes relationship even after Curufin moves them to Himland. When it gets sacked during Dagor Bragollach and Curufin, Celegorm, and Celebrimbor all flee south to their cousins home, Thranduil sends them some relief supplies. When Celebrimbor disown his father, Thranduil comes to visit and generally be annoying until Celebrimbor can stop feeling like shit

When Thranduil, his parents, and their people leave eastward after Thingol's death but before the second Kinslaying (for Oropher is older then the Sun and Moon, he is not about to be led by a boy not even in his 30th year, Maiar blood or not, and many Sindar agree with him) Celebrimbor travels with them and secures them safe passage through the Blue Mountains.

They both grieve when they hear of the Second Kinslaying, then the Third, and then when the East sinks under the waves. Not many in Lindon support Celebrimbor wearing the eight pointed star again, but Thranduil just rolls his eyes and tells him red looks dreadful with his complexion

During the Second Age when Thranduil gets married, Celebrimbor is invited to the wedding and vis versa when Celebrimbor marries Narvi

(Both marriages involve lots of teasing over their partners of choice. Thranduil laughs over the fact that of course a Noldor would marry a Dwarf, they are basically the same, what with their love of rocks and metal work. Celebrimbor rolls his eyes and snorts that he's surprised Thranduil didn't end up marrying an Ent, what with his love of trees, but he supposes that marrying a lady named "tree maid" is close enough. What next? Will he name his children "sapling" or "twig" or "leaf"? Thranduil shoves him off his chair, spilling wine all over the table and floor and growls that at least his children will have original names, and not share a name with two of his forefathers like Men)

They visit each other a lot during the second age, and Thranduil tries to help him as best he can during the fallout of Narvi's death, and when Celebrimbor is designing his rings of Power with that suspicious Maiar of his (who Celebrimbor SWEARS is helping him craft to work through the grief he has no other intentions) he had Thranduil (or Oropher) in mind when he created Vilya

When Thranduil heard about what happened to his friend and his land during the War of Elves and Sauron he grieved deeply. The only thing he had to remember his friend by was some forgotten blueprints of unfinished jewelry, an Age worth of letters (mostly written in Quenya, he of course had replied in proper Sindarin), a clumsy eight pointed star he laughingly embroidered onto the breast of Thranduil's favourite robe, a set of Sindarin long knives overly embellished with Noldorian swirls, and a box of white gems Celebrimbor hand crafted and left with a promise to come back once he finished his rings and use them to make a matching crown set for Thranduil and his wife to wear whenever he inherited the crown

("There may be even enough left over for a third crown. For your 'little leaf' to grow into whenever you two get around making one." Thranduil's wife laughed with Celebrimbor and sent her husband a leer that set his ears ablaze and Tyelpe's laughter began anew)

And enough regrets to haunt him for Ages. It seemed like bad things always came in three. Celebrimbor, his father, his new homeland. Thranduil led his people north, away from everything he had loved, and kept what remained close to his chest. After his wife was slain shortly after the birth of his son, he refused to lose anyone else. Greenwood the Great began to mirror his grief and became Mirkwood

It was almost another another Age before he decided to commission the Dwarves of Erebor to turn those precious white gems into the crowns Celebrimbor intended. Not for him and his now dead wife, but maybe for Legolas and his future partner. (His little leaf, he could hear Celebrimbor's laughter every time Legolas calls himself "Legolas Greenleaf" with that cheeky grin of his) And if Celebrimbor couldn't make them himself, he would be happy to let his Dwarven friends do the job for him

Thranduil almost burned down the mountain himself when they withheld those gems and one of the last pieces of his dear friend from him

Under the bone deep fear of watching a dragon from his nightmares sack the kingdom, he was a little pleased. Jewel thieves get their due

(He knows that Celebrimbor never swore his grandfather's Oath, but sometimes late at night he wonders if he still carried the curse of it. If that Oath and the Curse of Feanor are the reason his dearest friend died that awful way he did)

It was the beginning of a forth age when those sparking white gems were finally turned into the crowns they were destined to be. And Thranduil could almost hear Celebrimbor's delighted laughter as he watched his only son and heir, his little leaf, marry a dwarf.

When it came time to sail, Thranduil stayed with his people, he has coveted them for so long he now refused to leave unless he was forced too. Legolas, who had somehow made a small boat that could barely withhold the waves of the Western Sea, was greeted with a welcoming and joyful embrace by the Elf he only heard stories about

"Hail Celebrimbor, Lord of Eregion, Crafter of the Rings Of Power, Husband of Narvi son of Vilarvi of Durin's Folk, and most importantly, the dearest friend of my father!" Legolas greeted in flawless Quenya with a very noticeable Feanorian lisp. The gathered crowd twitched a little and Elrond (who was hoping of news of his sons) gave a sigh. "I have much to say, and so does my husband Gimli, but first I must give you my father's message!"

Legolas cleared his throat, and then with mock superior expression, one that made him look just like Thranduil, he said: "Celebrimbor you Spider Spawn of the Shadow, if you worked on my crown instead of those thrice damned Rings like you said, my son would never have married a Dwarf. Once I am reborn you better start running because I am going to burry you in my forest and chop down the tree you become with my anger alone!"

There was a startled gasp of silence on the shores of Valinor, before Celebrimbor burst into peels of joyful laughter. Legolas smiled at his honorary uncle and laughed with him

"As you can see, father missed you very much"

#celebrimbor #thranduil #legolas #lotr #silmarillion #tolkien #gigolas #oropher #while i was writing this i looked up Diors age and homie was 22 when he married his wife and died at 30 #how did any of the elves take him seriously??? he was an infant!!!! Who let this Infant Elf have kids???#absolutely wild i can see oropher being like This is my new king?? I think not and peacing out with most of their people #which is why the second kinslaying went the way it did #anyways enough about dior he was just a bad PR move #I think Thrandy and Tyelpe were best friends your honour #Celebrimbor would have loved legolas and been his biggest supporter in marrying Gimli #if he was let out of Mandos Halls by the time the two of them sailed he would have laughed and adopted Legolas on the spot #Celebrimbor for Best Uncle

195 notes · View notes

lilyrachelcassidy · 3 years

Text

Brawl Over Hallucinogens [1]

A/N: IT IS DONE!!! Oh, and btw, happy HP22 Event everyone! I’ve been anticipating the finals of your team project for so long, and they are finally out. And I cannot be any more proud of all of my mutuals who engaged in writing this non-smut content for our lovely Draco community! A big thank you to @draconisxcaput who was a chief organizer of the event and arranged everything so wonderfully! Also, @drawlfoy and @war-sword who came up with the idea and pulled it all together to make it look all fancy and professional;) I hope we’d be able to repeat such a huge project, and yeah, that’s all about the event as for now...

A new series I came up with. And I know, I know, I leave Summer Nights unfinished and so forth, BUT I have a very good forecast for this series because I have the whole thing planned out in my head and I just know that it’s gonna flick. I’d be posting the second part of BOH in 4 days I think, for the next day of HP22E. But I also thought of posting every new chapter once a week, so that’d be able to breathe, squeeze some fic writing into my schedule, and still could keep up with my school stuff, etc.

Okay, so not prolonging too much, let’s dip into some Draco-non-smut fiction!!! Pls, also, don’t forget to check out other wonderful masterpieces prepared by my friends for THE EVENT! I’ll be reblogging them, however, in the link you’ll find the whole index for each of the pieces!

Enjoy:)

Index

Warnings: No specific, I think?? Just some langauge but you’ll survive;)

Wc: 3.1k

Tags: @draconisxcaput

“Have you heard?” Susan entered their mutual room and, without preamble, started off with a question. Sparing her a glance, Y/N could easily detect the exhilaration and curiosity all over her face, which was a typical reaction of Susan’s at every mystery-involving news, as Y/N thought about it. She bit her cheek, preventing herself from letting out an amused giggle.

“No, I wasn’t at the feast today.” Y/N turned her sight back to the magazine she had been reading previously, somehow not expecting her roommate to say anything up to the minute. “So what’s that?”

“Today’s pre-meal speech belonged to Snape actually,” said Susan, and Y/N made deer-in-the-headlights-like eyes, diverting the attention back to her friend. “He said some vials of potions had been missing from the storeroom, and no matter what a thief’s purpose was, the consequences will be dragged out. And they’ll be severe.”

Y/N gulped. “And did he mention what kind of potions are missing?”

“Just mentioned a few of them. But I can only remember the tranquilizer and… —um— a sleeping potion.” Flipping on one of the pillows next to Y/N, Susan sighed and took off her auburn slip-ons as to locate herself comfortably on a bed. “I don’t get it really, why would anyone steal those? I mean, you can easily get them without such an effort, in Hogsmeade, for instance, right? Or simply ask Madam Pomfrey for some. It’s not like they aren’t available or something…” Still getting no response from her friend, she continued. “Do you think that it could have been Ron Weasley, perhaps? Or his siblings? The rumors say their father had recently dropped off the work in the Ministry. So now they have to behave on the cheap.”

“The Ministry is the rotten place, but Weasleys would have to be out of their mind to cut off their only source of income. You shouldn’t be judging them by their wealth, you know?” Y/N peeked at her friend from the corner of her eye, simultaneously flipping the page of her ‘Weekly Witch’ magazine. “I think it could have been anyone. And besides, you know how rumors can be — depending on nothing more than lies. Do you remember the one time when a Gryffindor gal accused you of being a Squib just because you couldn’t operate with your wand properly?”

“I hexed her for that.”

Y/N laughed at Susan’s sudden gloom. “Yeah, but you know what I’m going for.”

“I agree, but it still bothers me, like…” She threw herself in the pile of pillows and imitated the angry yelp, causing Y/N to continue with her laugher. When Susan didn’t stop with her act-out after a while, Y/N grabbed her by the shoulders forcing her to lift up, all hair ruffled and soaring in different directions, and she looked her straight in the eyes with a serious mien.

“Don’t you bother your pretty head with all those thoughts, alright? The Slytherins organize a grand party today as to celebrate, you know, the opening of another year of tortures. Same old drill. And I think we could visit at least for an hour…” Noticing the idea didn’t quite appeal to Susan, she proceeded. “Oh, come on, that’s our only chance to get ripped throughout this semester. And we haven’t seen our friends in forever. What do you say?”

“Under one condition.”

“And what’s that exactly?”

Sudden mischief appeared in Susan’s eyes, and it instantly occurred to Y/N that she wasn’t up for too much good with her inventory of ideas. Something in terms of a smug smile appeared on Susan’s lips, and before she could utter a word, Y/N interrupted. “Okay, just an FYA, I’m not going for some crazy-ass shit if it’s that what you’re thinking of.”

“No, it’s not that,” Susan chortled, wiggling her eyebrows in an opposite-suggesting manner. “I- I mean, we could kick off with the investigation about those potions. You know, to find out how’s snicking them out and what for. Satisfying the curiosity is one thing, but how many points we’d be able to obtain for Hufflepuff, can you imagine?”

“Susan…” Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Before you say anything,” she covered her friend’s mouth, apparently finding it the best way to mute her down. “I know that the House Cup doesn’t really matter to you, but it’s such an honor to finally get it for the first time in a few decades. It was always either Slytherin or Gryffindor to get it, and for once we’d get some fame out of that. Merlin, we would even go down in history for something like that.”

“Don’t exaggerate it.” Quite a pause there. “But if it’s that what you want, yeah, sure we can do that.”

“Really?!” Susan’s loud squeak carried over the entire room, which got Y/N very startled with her roommate’s sudden change of heart.

“Sure.” She smiled, nodding. “The key question, though — how are we supposed to, you know, find the suspect?”

“We will find our way. Looking at the clues, observing people, and so forth.” Frowning, she shrugged her arms, jumped off the bed, and walked over to her wardrobe. “I presume, I’m going to choose this glittery dress you gave me on my birthday. Can you do the curls for me? I’d appreciate that.”

XOXOXOX

As much as Y/N tried to make an impression of insouciant, she couldn’t get the taboo topic about the potions disappearance out of her head for days. Obviously, Susan broached the subject as well, not once nor twice, but numerous counts of times, which made Y/N reflect even more on the case. Why would anyone need those vials? What was the use of them? Has Susan really remembered all the relevant details back from the feast speech that she hadn’t bothered enough to attend to? She now contemplated how matters would have been different if she could change her past life decisions, and in lieu, go on the fucking feast that night. Things could have been different by now — she could have caught much more out of Snape’s diatribe than could Susan; she could have noticed other students reacting to the news. Maybe not so new to some after all. But that didn’t matter anymore…

She had attempted, in various ways, to pursue her detective-like role and, following Susan’s advice, tried to look out for any kind of hints that could help out in their common investigation. Until now, however, everything was for no use because every piece of information that was found only led to a blind alley. One time she thought she had even caught a suspect in the act, as she espied the widely-opened door to the Potions Stock and found a black-haired Slytherin inside it, however, as it later turned out, he was only collecting the ingredients for his lessons with Snape.

So that was the next failure on her account, unfortunately.

Currently, Y/N was bracing herself to go for her night shift as a Prefect she was involuntarily elected to be (her parents forced her to submit herself), and she put on several layers of clothes due to a freezing temperature in the corridors, especially in dungeons. She was supposed to meet up with a Ravenclaw boy who would be making rounds with her in a few minutes on a third floor, and she hadn’t yet left her dormitory, much more made her way to the appointed spot. That’s why she tried to gather herself in a great hurry, causing tremendous mayhem all around.

But she couldn’t care less at that moment, because she finally tracked down the pair of shoes she was looking for, thus she swiftly put them on, and almost sprinted out of the room.

‘I’m not gonna make it, I’m not gonna make it…’ Y/N thought to herself, criticism swirling in her head. ‘I’m not gonna mak—‘

“You don’t fucking understand, do you?” Y/N halted in her steps. Breathing like a sore rhinoceros, she succeeded in reaching the fourth floor with her best speed time yet. She didn’t have enough audacity, however, to think about her achievement because the conversation she happened to overhear particularly gripped her interest. “I needed to have them.”

Y/N recognized that voice. Harsh. Bold. Very masculine. Derogatory. She had encountered it too many times in her life as not to detect who the person was — Draco Malfoy, it deemed to her instantly. From what could Y/N detect, he sounded very agitated and vexed, even for himself.

“Watch your tone, Mr. Malfoy,” a man, apparently Snape, scolded him. He too seemed to be a little over the edge, however, could master his temper much better than his interlocutor. “If you needed my help, you should have given a sign. That would provoke much less trouble for both of us. Dumbledore and other professors are getting suspicious, Malfoy, so the next time you try to pull something like that, contemplate twice.”

“I don’t need the advice from you!” Although he lowered his voice a few timbres, Draco huffed and made an impression even angrier than before. “I told you, I’m perfectly capable of doing the whole thing by myself. I don’t need you leeched to my glory.”

“Say that again, and you are going to lose my assistance for once. I pay no interest in acquiring the glory whatsoever,” Snape warned him, sternly. "If it wasn’t for me, everything would have leaked out already. Dumbledore is not foolish. I had to offer him a very far-fetched story to clean you up from the suspicion after the last turn of events.”

Y/N peeked from behind the wall, and indeed, got a hold of a very perplexing scenery. Draco bristled and, with a scorn on his lips, stood with his back pinned to the cobblestone wall whilst Severus Snape, hovering over him with his bat-like garments and greasy hair, stared him blankly in the eyes, disclosing no rage nor irritation. No emotion, really. Draco, on a contrary, had a death-lust painted all over his face.

Wanting to get a better view of the whole situation, Y/N wriggled a little more to get a more favorable position. However, Draco’s gaze suddenly snatched in her direction, and Y/N could only wish that it was too dim for him to perceive her in the cheaply-lit corridor.

‘Don’t move, just don’t move,’ she repeated to herself, withdrawing her breath and deeply praying to come off unnoticed.

His eyes were piercing through her mind, pupils dilated, and what could have been said even from afar was that he wasn’t the same mocking, adolescent Slytherin he had been a year ago. He had the oddest air rising up around him. And his posture was slightly but noticeably hunched, with his ink-black suit hanging on his slender arms. Truthfully saying, he looked more than sick in her opinion and probably must have skipped a few nights of sleep, judging by the bags under his eyes and the extremely pale complexion.

Try as might to suppress it, Y/N felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

“I’m not sure whether you are aware of a weight of the task you have been given, Mr. Malfoy.” Snape turned Draco’s attention back to the conversation. “Dark Lord expects you to perform the task to the nines, and from what I have heard, the progress of your work is hardly perceptible.”

“I told you, I’m handling it,” said Draco with his jaw tightly clenched. "I’m trying to mend a fucking cupboard up. But I need more time.”

“I can be patient Draco,” said Snape. “However, the Dark Lord won’t be.” And with a swift sweep of his cloak, he vanished into the vast darkness of the corridor, leaving flustered and annoyed Draco behind, who had an apparent influx of anger because he hit a wall with his fist with the greatest force he could gather.

Using the advantage of a momentary lack of Draco’s attention, Y/N tried to escape a place of witnessing the scene between a platinum Slytherin and her, what she had reckoned in the beginning, not so innocent Potions teacher.

Thoughts were swirling in her head like a tornado. What were the two of them talking about? Was their conversation related to the latest potions pilfering, and if so, why would Snape make such a fuss about it during the feats if he had had a clue of a potential robber? Why wouldn’t they use more secluded area to talk over such matters?

Nothing made a coherent answer in her head.

Y/N acted as quietly as she could, withdrawing her breath and hoping that Draco was far gone in the other direction of the school so that she could reach her room with no disturbance. However, before she could make a second step, a voice carried over, leaving a great echo behind. “Come out. I know someone is out there.”

What she could say was an act of desperation, Y/N collected herself to the fastest dart she could manage, feeling a little bit jittery and panicked. She couldn’t be caught by him. She wouldn’t bear standing with him eye to eye, especially after what she had overheard. Her plan was to run over back to the Hufflepuff Tower. But if she couldn’t make it, she would hide behind one of the old tapestries (after wandering alone around the school at night, she had discovered a lot of interesting spots she could make use of). Then, after waiting a while, she would return to her dormitory and, in the following day, she would offer a far-fetched lie to the Ravenclaw boy about not being able to make it to her Prefect shift due to the sudden flu. Or a cold?

Yes, that was a good plan.

His hasty footsteps were approaching her from behind, and Y/N couldn’t be less surprised — he was a head taller over her. With this height, he could beat her up in the race three times, if not more. Not yet losing her determination, Y/N ran further with an unsteady breath and an extremely high heart rate. She had bunked off her Quidditch lessons many times in her life, and she had never thought she would wish to participate in them again.

Y/N could swear her run prolonged from minutes to hours. But she couldn’t stop. Not now, when her destination was finally so close — the tapestry next to the Great Hall that she was the only one who knew about.

A few more steps.

Y/N felt a sudden yank, and before she could get a grip of what was happening, she was pinioned to the wall by an unimaginable strength she hadn’t known Draco owned. She gasped from bewilderment. Draco was holding both of her hands above her head, and the approximation of their faces made Y/N startled because their noses were almost touching, and she could smell his sandalwood cologne from a little distance. With his breath puffing on her skin, she could feel her cheeks burning from the blush and, suddenly, she was very thankful for the darkness that surrounded them.

“Why were you running away?” he asked, his buzzing eyes inspecting her every flinch.

“Why were you chasing me?” Y/N couldn’t articulate the reason she was running away because she had no particular one. It was her common sense telling her that what she had done, eavesdropped, was inappropriate and should act as she had never witnessed anything. Apparently, that didn’t work out.

“Don’t give me that shit,” he said, huffing. “How much have you heard?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Somehow, Y/N felt even tenser than before, and she had an instantaneous urge to kick him in the guts and flee.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I saw you peeking.” A next sneer. “Nosy Hufflepuffs, can’t just mind their own business, can they?”

“It’s not that I did it on purpose!” she defended herself instantly, knitting her eyebrows together. “I was only doing my rounds as a Prefect. It’s not like you couldn’t go to the more private area or something.”

“Again, how much have you heard?”

Y/N deflated, sinking in her chest becoming sharper every minute. “I-um... Not much, all right? I only heard something about the task. Nothing specific… I swear, I didn’t know someone was there! I was only patrolling, you know, with my Prefect duty.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that already.” Draco removed his hands, releasing Y/N from his grip and, try as might to suppress it, she felt partly wistful because she oddly enjoyed the heat radiating from Draco’s body. He, however, didn’t seem to notice her swift change of mood, and with a little sigh, he continued. “You can’t tell anyone about this.”

“About what?”

“About this night. The quarrel, this conversation. Nothing. Understood?”

“Bu—“

“Please, just don’t make me explain that,” he cut her off. “I know this might be confusing but believe me, you don’t want to be mingled into this shithole. Just keep your nose out of it, and nothing bad’s going to happen.”

What did he mean? Did he view her as that oblivious as to not ask questions?

“I—“

“Y/N?” A different voice rang from the opposite side of a hall. Stamps approached Y/N and Draco in surprisingly fast time, and out of nowhere, Terry Boot was standing right in front of them, staring at them in awe. “What are you doing here? We were supposed to meet with each other an hour ago.”

She scratched her head nervously. “I overslept. Took a too-long nap.” Avoiding any eye contact, she let out a neurotic laugh, wishing to have this whole chatty-chat situation behind her.

“And him?” Terry took a suspicious glance at Draco.

“Oh, um — he was just walking back to his dormitory, I assisted him.”

“A little late for a stroll, ain’t it?” Terry asked, folding arms and directing his suspicious gaze back to Draco.

“That’s why I was walking back to dungeons, Boot,” Draco sent him an in-verbal warning, the intensity of his upsetness hovering around. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have early classes tomorrow.”

Uttering nothing more, he ambled away from the pair of them but not before sending Y/N the last caveat with his wary eyes over his shoulder. She should be feeling relieved, but instead, even more conflict arose in her head after her conversation with Draco. What she finally realized was that something much more dangerous than a student’s frolic was standing behind the potions' disappearance. And Draco could be one of those reasons.

“Are you sure you are alright?” Terry inquired when he had an assurance Draco disappeared off the horizon.

“Hm? Oh, ye-yeah, I’m fine…” she stuttered out, still gapping at the black void of darkness where Draco had been standing a few minutes ago.

XOXOXOXO

A/N: Thank u sm for reading and hoped you liked it!! yes, yes, our Terry Boot is returning back to the scenery [spoiler: ‘Turn’]. I’m sure that at least @drawlfoyknows what i’m alluding to hehe.. Idk what’s with the bad, secret boys but i always liked that image of Draco, so... I MADE IT. There’s not too much steam going on rn since, yk, it’s only the beggining. But expect some more heated-up scenes very shortly;) If you want to stay up-to-date with the series, don’t hesitate to ask me to be added to the taglist!

#draco malfoy x reader #harry potter writing event #draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco x oc #draco x you #hp #hp fandom #slytherin #hufflepuff #draco malfoy series #draco malfoy fanfiction #pottermore #harry potter imagine

49 notes · View notes

nho-jungle · 3 years

Text

DO YOU WRITE MCYT FIC?

DO YOU HAVE TROUBLE PROMOTING YOUR OWN WRITING?

DO YOU HAVE ONE FIC YOU’VE READ THAT YOU THINK EVERYONE NEEDS TO READ?

WELL HAVE I GOT THE EVENT FOR YOU!

hi my name’s mikey, you may have seen me around but im here in your screen rn to tell you about MIKEY’S 1 YEAR FIC REC EXCHANGE 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO! (no i will not change the name).

as of january 24th 2022, it will have been an entire year since I posted my first mcyt fic! absolutely bonkers!! i did an exchange like this back in 2020 for a different fandom, and i thought “hey, that went well last time. lets do it again!”

This exchange is for anyone who writes any sort of mcyt fic, as I know fic on tumblr often gets buried. under the cut you can read the rules, but here’s the tl:dr-

send me 2 fics/series’: 1 that you have written and 1 that someone else has written. i will be creating a moodboard and a rec post for every. single. submission.

if you wish to take part, please reblog this post so that i know people are interested. even if you dont want to take part, it would be nice if you could reblog this post anyway, so more people can see it.

did that catch your interest? well here’s the full in-depth rules!!

HOW TO SUBMIT

send me the link/name + author of 1 fic/series that you have written that you are most proud of. this can be sent via an ask, a submission, or a dm. if you work via a sideblog or wish for me to tag a seperate blog, then give me that url too.

then, send me the link/name + author of 1 fic/series that you have read and you think everyone should read. if the author has a tumblr linked in an obvious place, then i will tag them in the post.

you have until the 10th of january 2022 to send in your submissions.

GUIDELINES

1) while i am mainly a hermitcraft/empires smp focused blog, you can submit a work for any fandom, as long as it is mcyt! (althought i request that rpf is avoided. i know ao3′s tagging is a mess, but i trust your judgement.)

2) any genre, warnings, or rating is allowed. on the posts i make for each submission, each fic will be fully labelled with everyone you’d see on ao3. for tumblr fics, i will make my own judgement.

3) no reader insert. i will allow oc’s, but reader insert is a huge personal squick for me. just a personal preference.

4) fics must be available to read on ao3 or tumblr! i don’t get along with wattpad at all.

5) if you are the co-writer of a fic, you can count that as one of your own, or agree to a shared submission with your co-writer(s).

6) please keep in mind that i have to read every. single. one. of these fics. that’s not to say i am putting a limit on word count, but understand that if the fic is very long then i may only skim read it to get the general vibes.

7) likewise, please try to choose fics that have fairly obvious themes. at the end of the day, moodboards are pictures, and its very difficult to find 9 images to represent 500 words of domestic fluff.

8) unfinished fics are allowed!! just be aware that if the fic is still in progress then the vibes might change. i am only human. i cant see the future.

9) anonymous submissions are allowed! if you post anonymously on ao3 and wish to remain anonymous, then pls submit your works via an anonymous ask (with an identifying emoji/name if possible). alternatively, you can dm me and state that you wish to remain anonymous. i am just a stranger on the internet, but i promise i wont tell.

10) if a fic has any fanart with it that isn’t linked obviously in the notes somewhere then please send that too. if not, i will be using either just images of the minecraft skins for the moodboards, or any art that i myself have drawn that i feel fits.

PRIZE

(okay, it’s not a competition, but prize makes it sound more exciting)

each fic will get a rec post, featuring a moodboard made specifically for the fic. it’s obviously not mandatory, but if you take part in the exchange then it would be nice to not only rb your own moodboards, but some of the others as well. after all, this exchange is about promoting people’s hard work!

DEADLINE

moodboards will begin posting on the 24th of january. submissions will close on the 10th of january, as that gives me time to make sure everything is finished.

please remember that i am only one guy, and a college student at that. i have a life outside of the internet and am, ultimetely, doing this for fun!

EXTRA

final moodboards, as well as any additional information will be posted under the #fr echange 2022 tag. the last time i did this was for bandom fics, but if you want to check out some examples then you can find those in the #fr exchange 2020 tag

#mcyt #hermitcraft #dsmp #empires smp #3rd life #last life #evo smp #legacy smp #x life smp #fr exchange 2022

84 notes · View notes

acidsaladd · 2 years

Text

Wips!

hi!! i was tagged by @twigs-sprigs to do this so lets dive in (ty for the tag dude!! i think ur really cool too!! ur art is such an inspiration! :D )

rules!! "post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs. I have deemed that this isn’t just for writing either. Sketch titles? Comics? DnD campaigns? If you have an unfinished project, it counts!!"

ok so i Do have a wip folder but i keep forgetting them so i also have a list on my notes app and an imaginary list in my head SO ill try my best to pile everything on here

amusement park chaos

the gang TM

eating at chen’s

v domestic breakfast

love languages

kai blacksmithing tiktok

fic scene redraw

httyd au :eyes:

post seabound angst

kai’s ninja-GOT YOU

jay and cole’s fall

rgb cuddles

nya,, why,,

worm

lilo and stitch

rgb cool epic posters

detectives

andd i think thats it? probably? yea. a bunch of these r just ideas and i dont have any sketches yet but they still count and r very present in my mind. pls send me an ask about any of them that ur curious about! :D

(no pressure at all!!) @sugarglider-s , @lille-scribbles , @pajamamen , @birdbound and anyone else who wants to participate >:]

#ninjago #blabbering #i might even use this as a check list to actually get myself to work on these :0

11 notes · View notes

still-astray · 2 years

Text

Boys Over Worries

Natalie (with some help from Kai in the beginning) leads her male members in a group effort to drive away backstage nerves after performing CROWN at The Show.

(A/N: i’m not sure if i posted this before; i feel like i have but when i went to look for it here on tumblr i couldn’t find it, so if i already did pls let me know 🙂)

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: none

“Ulgo shipji anha…” Natalie sang under her breath, hoping nobody would hear her. She needed to release some tension- actually, a lot of tension- but she didn’t want the other members to feed off of her nervousness. Especially Soobin, and Taehyun and Kai; Soobin as the leader needed to stay calm, and Natalie would not be responsible for freaking the youngest two out.

She didn’t really think a mere song would have that kind of effect, but who knew what might happen at this point. Just by looking around the room, Natalie could tell that they were all on edge.

“I go up, helicopter,” muttered Beomgyu under his breath, “then I make hella noise for the takeoff-”

“Language, Gyu,” said Soobin halfheartedly, obviously not too worried about Beomgyu’s language choices, at least for right now.

Beomgyu glanced over at Soobin, looking very much like he wanted to keep singing the actual lyrics, but he changed them. “-and I make lots of noise for the takeoff-”

Natalie glanced over at the interaction, curious how he had managed to effortlessly ad-lib something so perfect so quickly.

Kai suddenly sprang to his feet. “Hey, guys, we don’t have to just sit around like this. It’s our first music show; no matter what the results are, we’re supposed to be happy.”

Taehyun raised an eyebrow, and Kai quickly added, “Well, at least we don’t need to be moping around like we placed last.”

Yeonjun choked. “Don’t jinx it!”

“Jinxes don’t exist,” said Soobin with a hint of amusement, “but all the same, Kai and Yeonjun are both right.”

“And at any rate,” Natalie spoke up, “no matter what anyone else thinks, we know we did great. Perfectly, actually.”

Taehyun smirked a little. “I suppose you call nearly breaking my back a perfect performance?”

Natalie shrugged. “So long as I didn’t actually hurt you.”

Taehyun rubbed his back, feigning injury. “I don’t know, feels a little sore…”

“Come on, we practiced it a hundred times, I know I didn’t hurt you.” Natalie got up and went to give the boy a hug, just for good measure, but he playfully pushed her away. “Oh, not accepting my hugs anymore? I’ll just go hug Kai.” Kai accepted the hug without any fuss, even lifting her and twirling her around the room. “You being almost a foot shorter than me, hugging you takes extra measures.”

“Yah, don’t mention my height. It’s bad enough just being ten inches shorter than the shortest of you giants, don’t need anyone mentioning it.” But Natalie was smiling; she really didn’t mind her height anymore. Plus, her tiny stature meant that she got babied by literally everyone when she was around the guys.

“Five foot eleven isn’t exactly a giant,” teased Beomgyu. “Six foot one over here, now…” He motioned with his hand over at Soobin, leaving his sentence unfinished.

Soobin playfully pushed his hand away. “Three inch difference, a mere three inches.”

“So that means I’m tall!” Taehyun exclaimed hopefully.

He was met with the dubious stares of everyone else, even Natalie.

“I don’t think so, Tim,” quipped Natalie in English, unintentionally making a Home Improvement reference.

“Say what?” Taehyun quirked his head to one side, confused.

Natalie quickly translated into Korean, but Taehyun still looked confused. “Hold on, let me show you,” she said, scanning the room for her phone and not seeing it. “Beomgyu, give me your phone.”

Beomgyu tossed it to her, and Natalie brought up the quote in question on YouTube. “Here is your introduction to the funniest TV show on planet earth.”

Considering that there were no Korean subtitles available, Natalie acted as translator while all five boys crowded around Taehyun, who held Beomgyu’s phone.

All of them died laughing before the clip was half over, leaving only Natalie to stay sane and make sure nobody laughed their makeup off.

Beomgyu was the first to recover. “Well, I see what we have to do with you.”

“Do with me?” Natalie echoed.

Beomgyu looked over at Taehyun. “Should we show her Boys Over Flowers?”

Taehyun smirked a little bit. “Mmm, it’s certainly an interesting drama.”

“And has some very cute guys.” Soobin winked.

Natalie blushed. It hadn’t taken the boys very long to figure out that she easily got celebrity crushes- especially on attractive male lead actors.

“But the thing is,” went on Beomgyu, coming over and putting an arm around her shoulders, “this one isn’t pure comedy. It’s definitely going to make you cry. A lot.”

Natalie edged away and hid behind Kai. “I don’t like to cry.”

Soobin grinned and came over to her, wrapping her in a hug. “Don’t worry. All of us will probably be crying right along with you.”

“Oh, maybe I’ll try it,” consented Natalie, rather enjoying the hug and not wanting to make Soobin walk off early.

Beomgyu grinned a bit devilishly. “Five dollars says she’s hooked after the first episode.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” volunteered Yeonjun, raising a hand.

“I’ll see your five, and raise you two,” quipped Taehyun.

Natalie’s eyebrows popped up. “Ooh, anyone have a deck of cards? Because poker doesn’t sound half bad.”

Soobin tugged one of her braids. “I can’t think of a better way to raise your temper through the roof than to gamble.”

“Oh, not for money,” said Natalie, a bit miffed that Soobin would even think such a thing.

“For what, then?” queried Beomgyu.

“Duties back at the dorm. We still haven’t worked out a smooth schedule.”

“Hey, not a bad-” Beomgyu was cut off by the door opening and their manager sticking her head in.

“Hey, guys, it’s time for the awards ceremony,” she told them. “Come get into place.”

When the door had closed behind her, Soobin let out a sigh and let go of Natalie. “Guess we’d better get moving.”

As the group headed out the door, Taehyun could be heard saying, “You know, I forgot all about being nervous for the ceremony.”

#kpop au #kpop imagines #txt 6th member #original writing #female kpop oc #txt au #original character #txt beomgyu #txt yeonjun #txt taehyun #txt soobin #txt huening kai #txt oc

13 notes · View notes

mistersshelby · 4 years

Text

removing the dagger

hi yes it's me, yes i know i haven't updated my masterlist in ages, yes i am aware i have an unfinished wip that i promised to post months ago, i'm just a stupid fanfic writer begging her audience to love her!!!! anyway!!! i have two other things in the works that I'm hoping to finish, but in the mean time this is one shot i based on ivy and tolerate it from taylor swift's album evermore. i hope you like it, i missed y'all!!! send me asks pls i'm lonely

pairing: tommy x reader

masterlist

questions, comments, concerns

“We’ll be entertaining guests this weekend.”

You looked up from your breakfast plate in shock, wondering if your husband was addressing you or someone else. You gave the room a quick scan. No, it was indeed just you. “Alright.” You said hesitantly, “Who will be attending?”

He hadn’t looked up at you from his newspaper at the other end of the table. He felt miles away rather than a meter or two. “Just some business partners and their wives.” He finally looks up. You’re so unused to his direct attention you have to stop yourself from flinching away from his gaze, “You should go into town. Buy yourself a new dress.” Just as quickly as his gaze had met yours, he drops it again.

You draw your attention back to your breakfast plate, spreading butter on a scone before biting into it. “Do you need anything while I’m out, dear?”

“No thank you, love.”

The endearments don’t mean anything, this you know. It’s a formality. You’re husband and wife, and you speak to each other that way, but the words are empty. The truth is, day in and day out you watch him, you know all his routines. You hand him items before he can reach for them. Buy the book you know he’d been wanting for ages, but never got around to go to the store for. Refill the liquor cabinet before he can get to the bottom of a vodka bottle. And still. And still, he doesn’t see you. Not really. You leave the breakfast table to get ready to go into town and you know he won’t notice you’ve left until the maid clears your plate.

***

Another evening filled with pleasantries, pretty gowns, fake smiles. Men complimenting you and informing your husband how lucky he is to have such a beautiful, young wife. Your husband simply thanks them and doesn’t even look your way.

It’s not until he walks into the room that you feel you’ve been startled from sleep. He looks the same as you remember. There may be a few more lines around his eyes and mouth, but otherwise the same. Except now he looks like a walking weapon. That’s what the war had turned him into. You had kept tabs on him once you found out he had made it home from France, alive. The things you heard, the things this man that you used to love so dearly had done, well you suppose it didn’t surprise you. Tommy had always been too clever for his own good, almost too resilient. It made sense that France would have chewed him up and spit him out, kept most of the love and kindness he possessed.

But then his eyes find yours through the crowd and when he locks on you the same love and desire that had always been there, burns there now. No, the war couldn’t burn out his love for you. Your abandonment and consequential marriage that he read about in the paper couldn’t burn it out either. He’d love you until his dying day. And then he’s in front of you and words fail you, “Thomas,” You finally manage, “You… look well.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “It’s good to see you.” And he ever so gently lifts your hand and presses his lips to your skin. A chill runs through you and it takes all your effort not to snatch your hand away. His knowing grin tells you he’s noted his effect on you.

“And who are you?” Your husband interjects, noticing the affront that was greeting you before himself.

“Thomas, this is my husband, Benjamin.”

Tommy looks your husband up and down for longer than is polite before reaching his hand out to meet your husband’s, “A pleasure.” He murmurs.

“How do you know my wife, mister…”

“Shelby.” Tommy fills in for him, and then glances at you, “Your wife and I were--”

“Childhood friends.” You interject before he can finish and force a smile.

Tommy stares at you for a prolonged second before turning back to your husband, “Yes. Childhood friends.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Benjamin exclaimed, “You grew up in Oxford then, yeah?”

The confusion is evident on Tommy’s face so you jump in quickly, “Yeah! Both grew up in Oxford, isn’t that right, Tommy?”

Tommy looks annoyed at having to lie, but nods anyway, “That’s right.” He speaks with Benjamin for a few moments about business and you find yourself staring at him, the freckles on his cheeks you used to kiss so tenderly. His hair that you used to run fingers through. His eyelashes that used to tickle your skin when he fell asleep. His voice that used to whisper adorations in your ear while other women looked on with jealousy.

“I hope you won’t mind if I steal your wife for a dance, sir, I’d love to catch up with her for a moment.”

Benjamin gave him a disarming smile, a smile you hadn’t seen since he had courted you and it made your heart ache. He lifted his glass to Tommy, “She’s all yours.”

You managed a small smile as Tommy took your hand and led you to the center of the room. You could feel tears burning the back of your eyes at the familiarity of his touch. No one had touched you like this, well, since Tommy left Small Heath.

“Oxford, eh?” Tommy started, “What else did you have to lie about to become such an esteemed lady?”

You frowned, “I did what I had to do. It appears you did the same.”

He shakes his head, “I never lied about where I came from out of shame to achieve the lifestyle I wanted.” His voice is bitter, and you won’t lie, it stings coming from the only person who had made you feel like you were worth something.

“I’m not ashamed of Small Heath.”

“Everything about who you’ve married, to what you’re wearing, to the house you live in, to the lies about me suggest otherwise.”

“I didn’t lie about you because I was ashamed, Benjamin gets… jealous. It was just easier not to explain.”

“Does Benjamin have reason to be jealous?”

You looked into those blue eyes you had adored so long ago and saw the same longing and lust sitting there. Your lips part and you pause, trying to find the right words to convey that you were sorry for how things ended. That you wished things could have been different. But he senses your hesitation and his eyes go cold, those familiar walls that you had worked for years to tear down are back up in full force. You suppose it’s what you deserve.

“Forget it. Stupid question.”

“Tommy--”

“No, don’t. You’re obviously very happy here.”

And you realized as he said it that he was so incredibly wrong about that, “I’m not.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them. Your eyes begin to water before you can stop them, “I’ve never been more unhappy in my life.”

Concern floods Tommy features, “Is he hurting you?”

You almost laugh, “No, no he’s never raised a hand to me. He’s never even raised his voice to me. He just… rarely remembers that I exist is all.”

“Well he’s an idiot then.” The corner of your mouth turned up just a bit at his crassness. “Can’t imagine having you walk around this house day in and day out looking like that and not giving you the attention you deserve.”

You have to bite down hard on your lip to keep the tears lodged in your throat at bay, “Do you have a smoke?”

He frowns, “I can’t imagine Benjamin allows a lady like you to smoke.”

“Tommy, please, he won’t even know we’re gone.” Sure enough, when you look over he’s immersed in conversation, “Come outside with me.” You tug on his arm before he can respond, weaving through guests who didn’t give you a second glance.

Once outside, you gulp in the cold air and lean against the stone wall behind you. Tommy joins a few seconds later, “Are you alright?” He asks as he reaches into his pocket and takes out his cigarettes.

“Can you tell me about Birmingham? What’s it like now?”

While you smoked, he talked about his family and the business. How Polly was doing, and Finn who you could still remember being born. Arthur and his anger problems. John and his relentless jokes. And when your cigarette was nothing more than a useless stub, you noticed there were silent tears rolling down your cheeks.

Tommy glanced at you and then dropped his own cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his shoe, “Why are you here if it makes you so sad?”

The reason you had married Benjamin was because you had promised yourself you would never have to go hungry again. You would never have to worry about someone breaking in and slitting your throat for a loaf of bread. You wouldn’t have to stare at dresses in shops anymore knowing you would never have enough money for it. You never wanted any children you bore to feel that pain either. So you had done what you thought was needed to obtain this lifestyle and now that you were here, it didn’t feel the way you expected it to.

You can’t answer him and instead you look up at the sky and snow starts to fall on your face. “It’s snowing.” You announce to Tommy. He says nothing and you get the feeling he’s annoyed with you. “We had our first kiss in the snow. Do you remember?”

He scoffs and pushes himself off the wall, “I’m not playing your games tonight, I shouldn’t have come here.”

“And why did you come here?” You call after him as he walks away, “Why the fuck did you come, eh? To rub it in my face that I made the wrong decision?”

He turns back to you and he has that cocky smirk on his face, “Listen to that Birmingham accent. Does your husband know his lady’s got such a dirty mouth?”

You don’t know why this is the remark that does it, but you take a sharp intake of breath and your lungs shudder with sobs as the tears pour down your cheeks. The smirk falls from Tommy’s face and he reaches for you, but you pull away. “Love, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“Darling?” Your husband stands in the doorway and both you and Tommy freeze, “What are you doing out here? You’ll catch your death out there in the cold.”

You close your eyes for a moment, schooling your features before you respond, “I’ll be just a minute dear, Mr. Shelby was just leaving. I was seeing him off.” Every trace of the tears was gone from your voice. Tommy would be impressed if it didn’t mean that you had clearly needed to practice seeming happy and upbeat when you were breaking inside.

It’s so easy how quickly he loses interest, Benjamin, and turns back to go inside without another glance. “Why did you come here?” You ask Tommy again.

He sighs, “I had hoped that seeing you happy would give me the closure I needed. Unfortunately, seeing you choose misery over me has only made me feel worse.” He says bitterly. Your face crumples and he steps away from you, “Goodnight, my love.”

When he’s gone you wish to scream and cry and you hate him for coming here and shattering the glass walls you had built around yourself to tell you that you were fine. You were fine with your finery and your loneliness and the gin you drink when Benjamin isn’t home. How he ignores the smell of it on your breath. His deliberate silence when you know he can feel your cries shake the bed at night. You thought you had packed Tommy Shelby neatly away in the far corner of your mind where you wouldn’t find him again. Wouldn’t remember what it was like to feel loved. To feel alive. But you remember. And now he’s gone again. Just like when he left for France. Just like when you wrote that final letter to him that you were to be married.

And so you walk back into that house of stone. You murmur to Benjamin that you’re tired and you’ll be retiring early. And he just nods, barely hearing you, like he always does. And you settle into bed and stare at the wall as the house goes quiet. And finally the bed shifts with his weight and his breathing settles and he doesn’t reach for you. He never does.

Goodnight, my love.

***

The mud of the road squelches beneath your shoes and you're conscious of the way everyone in Small Heath stares at you, walking around like this, but you’d had no choice. No trace of your old wardrobe before you married Benjamin existed. He hadn’t allowed it. You didn’t want any reminders, anyway. Besides which, you had told Benjamin you were out for lunch with a friend and had dressed appropriately. When you swing open the door to the Garrison, you don’t see any Shelbys, but everyone stares at you nonetheless. You imagine word will travel fast to Tommy that you’re here.

Sure enough, as you finished your first drink, you heard the doors swing open and a hush fell over the occupants of the bar. You didn’t look up when he sat next to you. “What are you doing in my bar?” He said, his voice was demanding and cold.

“Having a drink.” You said as the bartender slid you another.

Tommy took it from your hand and dumped it on the floor, “Don’t give her another one.” He said to the bartender. “I asked you what the hell you’re doing here, don’t try my patience.”

“I was drinking that.” You said through clenched teeth.

“You’re drunk, you’ve obviously been drinking all day, surely Benjamin darling noticed that before he let you leave the house, eh?”

You turned to him, eyes bloodshot and unfocused, “I came here… Because you never told me… If you remembered our first kiss.”

He stares at you for a few moments, “You came all the way to Small Heath to ask me if I remember our first kiss?”

You blink, “Why are you just repeating what I just told you?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, “Yes, I remember it. Now will you go home?”

“I am home.”

“This isn’t your home anymore, you made sure of that.”

“How is what I did any fucking different from what you did? I married him to fuckin’ survive. That’s it. And you would’ve done the same in my place.” While you were talking you kept trying to get the bartender’s attention, but he was purposely ignoring you now, “Will you please tell your bartender to get me a drink?”

He leans in close to your ear and you still, “You could have married me. I could have given you everything if you had just waited.”

You turn your head to look at him and your lips are just inches from his, “I didn’t think you would come back, Tommy. So many men were dying every day, I didn’t think you would come back and I was running out of time to find someone else to marry. I’m sorry.” You don’t know if it’s the alcohol that makes you brave, but you lean into him just a little bit and he doesn’t move away. So you close the distance between you.

The kiss is quick, and you pull away to gage his reaction. But his eyes only dart from yours back down to your mouth before his fingers graze your chin and gently pull you to him again. You can’t believe how alive it makes you feel to be kissed, really kissed, by someone who wants you.

“You’re drunk.” Tommy says finally, pulling away.

“So what?”

“So you wouldn’t be cheating on your husband if you weren’t drunk.”

You snort, “I would do just about anything to feel the way you made me feel again.”

He shakes his head at you, “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N. So, what? You’re just going to have an affair with me and I’m supposed to be satisfied with that?”

“What do you suppose we do instead?”

“Leave him and marry me.”

He’s so sincere, and for a moment you allow yourself to think that you could. “You know I can’t do that.” You say quietly.

He nods and lowers his head, “Then I’m not sure how I can help you, Mrs. Davies.”

His use of your married name feels like a blow, “I know you feel the same as I do when we kiss, isn’t it worth it just for that?”

“I don’t do well with sharing.” He practically snarled in your face.

“I’m his in name alone. You own me, body, soul, and spirit, Tommy. You always have.”

Suddenly, he straightens as if he’s just now realized where he is. “Come with me.” He says quickly, sharply. You practically run after him and when you get outside, you see his horse. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”

“Where are you taking me?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you ever just listen to me for once?” And without asking permission, lifted you up by your waist enough to get you on the saddle. When he comes up after you, you hesitate before wrapping your arms around his waist to keep yourself steady. It reminds you so vividly of just a few years earlier, you allow yourself to sink into the memories. It doesn’t take you long to realize he’s taking you to your old haunt. An abandoned house in the middle of the woods, overgrown with ivy.

“Why are we here?” As he helps you down from the horse, your faces nearly collide as your feet touch the ground. He seems to want to kiss you, but holds back.

“I waited here for you for days when I got back.” He says, walking away from you and towards the house. “When you stopped sending me letters, I had a feeling you had changed your mind, but I still hoped.”

You blink, “You never got my letter?”

He turns back to you, now leaning against a half demolished wall, “Did you send me a letter to tell me you were marrying that wanker? I honestly thought it was kinder that you hadn’t.”

You swallowed, “Yes, I sent you a letter.”

“And what did it say?”

You sigh, suddenly you’re frustrated with him, “That was years ago, Tommy, can’t we move on?”

He laughs, but it’s cold, “For you it was years ago, I’ve been living in this hell you left me in ever since. I didn’t get to move on to palaces and dinner parties and expensive champagne. I came back here and started another war, all in the hopes that one day I could provide for you and you would come home. And all the while you’ve been sleeping in another man’s bed.”

You look down at your feet. You understand the anger and the resentment he holds. After all, you knew when you sent that letter if he survived the war he would never forgive you. But here he was, some sort of dark, fallen angel, standing in front of you. Spreading over you again like ivy, the same way he had when you were younger. “I know I can’t take back the pain I’ve caused,” He was already scoffing and turning away from you, “But I’m here now. And so are you. And all I know is that being with you again makes me feel something and I haven’t felt anything since I sent out that letter.”

“So just like that, you think everything’s fixed?” He storms up to you, trapping you against the wall behind you. “You think you can just pop back in, say you’re sorry, and everything’s all better?”

You roll your eyes, unimpressed with his display of anger, “Of course not, Tommy, I’m not stupid.” You reach your hand out and delicately trail your fingers down his chest, “I just think… That it’d be a shame to deny each other what we both want.”

Without warning his hand clamps around your wrist and slams it against the wall behind you. It doesn’t hurt, really, but he did catch you off guard so you wince anyway.

He leaned forward until his lips brushed your ear, “Who said you could touch me without explicit permission?”

A chill went down your spine at the sound of his voice and you find yourself smirking, “Don’t need permission to touch what belongs to me.” You still know exactly what to say to piss him off.

He shoves you against the wall again, “You think this is fuckin’ funny, eh?” He leans down to look you eye to eye, “Am I laughing?” He pushes himself off the wall and turns away from you, “Always a fuckin’ joke to you.”

“Tommy, I thought… I’m sorry, I thought we were teasing--”

He rounds on you, “I don’t fuckin’ joke when it comes to you, do you understand? None of this is funny to me. It may be all a big joke to you with your fancy house and your upper class husband, but I lost the one thing in my life that had value and I don’t think it’s fuckin’ funny for you to shit all over the marriage that you thought was good enough to abandon me for in the first place!”

It’s all so absurd you nearly snort, “Do you think this is fun for me? Do you think I like living with the knowledge that I gave up the love of my life for someone who is rarely home, and when he is home doesn’t even spare me a second glance? My husband hasn’t kissed me in six months.”

“And so now you think you can have both?”

Tears shine in your eyes as you gaze up at him, “Can’t I?”

You can see the internal battle going on behind his eyes, caught between wanting you and not being able to truly have you. You knew he would give in to you, though, and maybe you felt a little guilty about that but you couldn’t afford to let your mind go there. You just needed someone to touch you, someone to really, truly desire you.

And Tommy gave in. He pushed you against the wall again, his mouth finding your mouth in a lust-filled frenzy. You moan in equal parts surprise and delight as his hands roam your body, pulling you up until your legs wrap around his waist, back firmly pressed to the wall.

You might pay for this sinful offense against your marriage one day, but today you will simply relish the way Tommy tastes.

***

“You’re quiet this morning.” Benjamin notes a week later during breakfast. “Actually, now that I think about it, I can’t remember the last time I heard you say a word. Is everything alright, darling?”

You look up from your plate where you had been pushing your egg around aimlessly and force a smile, “Everything is perfect, darling, why shouldn’t it be?”

He watches you closely for a moment, miles away on the opposite end of the dining table. You don’t believe he’s watched you like this since courting you. Then, in a flash, the moment is broken and he returns to his paper, “We should have dinner, just you and I. I have that business trip coming up and I’d like to spend some time with you before I go.”

You try not to narrow your eyes too deliberately at him. A proper lady never thinks too hard about her husband’s motives, she just acts delighted to be considered. But this was unlike him and you would find out why. “That would be lovely, dear.”

***

Your arm rests delicately on Benjamin’s as he takes you inside the restaurant he had made reservations in. He was going on and on about the lobster and how you should get one too and what drink to pair it with and it was all so fucking boring your eyelids grew heavy with sleep. You hadn’t seen Tommy since that day at the abandoned house.

Afterwards, he had taken you on the horse until you were a mile away from the house and insisted on being dropped there.

“I can take you further, he won’t see me.”

“It’s alright, Tommy. I like the walk.”

He had hopped off his horse with you and cradled your face in his hands, kissing you goodbye, “I’m still upset with you.” He said and kissed you again, harder. He bit down on your bottom lip hard enough to make you yelp, “This doesn’t change anything.”

But it changed everything, hadn’t it? For you, at least. You understood Tommy’s anger and resistance though. Maybe this would be the only taste of him he’d ever allow you again while you rotted away in that mansion of stone. “I’m sorry.” Was all you could manage, your foreheads still pressed together, before lightly pushing yourself off him and walking down the road without looking back.

Eventually, you heard his horse walk away and you did your best not to cry.

“Darling?” Benjamin’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. The two of you now sit at a small table in the corner. You’re buttering a roll absently, you couldn’t remember picking up the bread. “Darling, are you alright? I’ve been asking you to pass the butter.”

“Yes,” You said, reaching across the table with the butter dish in hand, “I’m sorry, my mind ran away from me.”

“And what were you thinking about?” He asks, taking the butter from you.

You blink, shocked that he would ask you such a thing, “Sorry?”

“What’s got your mind so occupied that I can’t seem to keep your attention?” He smiles when he says it and you realize he’s… teasing you.

“Oh, it’s nothing darling, I was just thinking about a dress I wanted to buy. I’m sorry that I wasn’t listening to you.”

He sighs greatly and for a moment you’re scared. Somehow he knows. He must know, otherwise-- “I realize that I haven’t been the best husband as of late. I don’t know what you spend your days doing, what you like, what you don’t like. I don’t kiss you in the morning or the evening when I come home from work--”

You’re shaking your head, “Benjamin--”

“You’ve been the perfect wife. Taking care of the house and entertaining guests, going out to the shop when I need something even if I haven’t asked. And I’ve ignored you. Aren’t you angry with me?”

Your eyes water and you sit back in your chair, looking down at your lap. Taking a breath you look back up at him, “You’re my husband.” You shrug, “I do what I must even if I don’t get anything in return.”

He hesitantly covers your hand with his own, “I’ll be better. I promise.” He sits back, “That friend that you went to lunch with the other day, what was her name?”

The fear returns all over again as you lightly dab at your eyes, “Martha, she’s a friend from Oxford.” The lie comes easily, too easily.

“Is she married?” Before you can answer, his eyes light up, “Oh! She must be that gentleman’s wife, the one who was at the party last week. Shelby, I believe his name was.”

Slowly, you nod, “Yes, that’s right. Martha’s husband is Thomas.”

“You should invite them for dinner, after my trip!”

Oh, fuck. “Oh, Benjamin, that’s so sweet of you dear, but you don’t have to--”

“I do.” He covers his hand with yours again, “I want to learn more about you. Your friends. What better way to do that than get to know the people you grew up with?”

You force a smile, “That sounds lovely.”

He smiles back, “It’s settled then! You iron out the details while I’m away and then just let me know which evening, alright, dear?”

“Of course.” You say, still forcing that smile. How the fuck were you going to get out of this one?

***

“Are you out of your mind?” You had summoned Tommy yet again by drinking at the Garrison and he had stormed in here ready to toss you over his shoulder and kick you out himself. But you had managed to get him to share a drink with you and you told him your new predicament.

“Well, yes, but that’s hardly the point.” He looks so annoyed with you, you almost laugh, “Please, Tommy. I’ll never bother you again.”

He snorts, “Yeah, that’ll be the day.” He knocks back the rest of his whiskey and then pushes the glass to the bartender, signaling for another, “This is really what you want?”

You bite your lip, “He seems sincere. Like he really wants to try.”

“But do you love him? Do you love him the way you love me?”

No. There would never be a love for you like Tommy. You look down at your hands. Either way you answer, Tommy will be hurt. But at least this way he could go on thinking that you’re happy. That you don’t need him. Maybe this way he’d fall in love with somebody else. The thought sent daggers through your heart, but you knew you had no one to blame for that but yourself. He should be happy, he deserved that. “Yes.” You lied.

His eyes shuttered and he looked away from you, “Alright. I’ll help you, then.”

You sigh in relief, “Thank you.”

“Now get the hell out of my bar.”

You manage a small smile and nod, sneaking out without another word.

***

The door buzzed and you nearly smiled, “That’ll be the guests, darling.” You moved behind Benjamin, squeezing his shoulder as you passed, “I’ll get it.”

When you opened the door and saw Tommy standing there with a tall, beautiful woman, you couldn’t deny the hurt that rushed through you. You had asked him to bring someone, you reminded yourself, you had told him he needed to bring a fake wife.

You step aside to let them through, “It’s good to see you, Tommy. Martha. Come in.”

“Your home is so lovely,” The woman said. You weren’t sure if you just felt like she was staring daggers at you or if she was. How much did this woman know of you and Tommy? Just from the way she looked at Tommy, you could tell she had feelings for him. He had probably fucked her at some point. You ignore the painful tightening of your stomach at the thought. Tommy, for his part, seemed bored by her.

“Thank you.” You gestured for the maid to take their coats and you couldn’t help the way your breath caught as Tommy took his off. Then his hat. And his gloves. Those hands and those rings and-- You looked from his left hand to hers. They were wearing wedding rings. You supposed it shouldn’t have surprised you, they were supposed to be married. But the sight painfully stole all the breath from your lungs. You wondered if this was how Tommy felt when he saw you. You turned away from it and guided them into the drawing room, immediately going to get a drink while Benjamin bored them with talk of business.

You didn’t expect for it to hurt so much, seeing him with someone else. Even if they were just fucking, you felt like you couldn’t breathe as you stumbled into the kitchen. The kitchen staff ignored you as you braced your hands on a table, looking down at it and trying to catch your breath. They were used to you having breakdowns here. The staff liked you because you treated them like people when Benjamin wasn’t around. When he was on his trips, you’d invite them all to eat with you in the dining room and they were some of the most fun dinners you’d had since marrying Benjamin. So they let you cry in here and didn’t speak a word of it.

When the kitchen doors open abruptly, you stand immediately, expecting Benjamin, but it’s Tommy who stands there instead. “What are you doing back here?” You asked with annoyance.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, and you hate the concern that floods his face.

“You shouldn’t be back here, Benjamin might come looking for me--”

“I told him I would go look for you, he seems quite charmed by Lizzie, he won’t come looking.”

“So her name’s Lizzie then? She’s lovely.”

He’s quiet a moment, “So you’re sulking in here because I brought another woman here, something you asked me to do.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“We should go back out there,” You begin to walk around him, but his hand clasps on your upper arm and pulls you back.

“Does it hurt? Knowing I’m fucking someone else?” He whispers in your ear.

Tears sting your eyes and you realize he’s done this on purpose. He wanted to hurt you. You look up into those ice blue eyes to show him yours that are shining with tears, “Are you happy now?” You wrenched your arm from his grasp and left the kitchen, putting on a smiling face as you left.

Tommy watches you closely for most of the evening and you think that normally Benjamin might notice his predatory gaze, but Tommy was right. He’s enamored by Lizzie. They share touches and longing glances, even when you place your arm on top of Benjamin’s to signal that he’s yours. He just pats your hand and draws his arm out from under yours all without looking away from Lizzie. So when Tommy excuses himself for a smoke, you follow him out, not even bothering to excuse yourself.

“Ol’ Benjamin is really giving it his best shot with you, eh?” Tommy says immediately when you walk outside. You don’t say anything, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your anger. “Can’t say I blame him,” He continues, “Lizzie’s a great fuck.”

You close your eyes, “I know what you’re doing.”

“And what am I doing, love?” He makes the endearment sound condescending and you hate him for that.

“You’re trying to get me angry so I’ll admit that I lied to you about loving Benjamin.”

“I saw the way you looked at the wedding rings when I took off my gloves,” He inhales on the cigarette in his hand, “I don’t need you to say it.”

“Then what, you’re just rubbing it in because you’re a sadistic fuck?”

“So you are angry, then.”

“Yes!” You threw up your hands in exasperation, “Yes, I’m fucking angry that I thought maybe Benjamin did love me only to see him touch and look at that woman in there more than he’s touched me in over a year! And I’m fucking angry that you are also fucking her! I’m jealous, I’m fucking burning with how jealous I am that she gets to touch you and I don’t! Is that what you want to hear, you fucking prick?!”

God help you, he has a cool smile on his lips, “Yes, sweetheart. That’s what I wanted to hear. Would you like to go make your husband terribly jealous?” He reaches a hand out to you.

You’re frowning at him and you shake your head, “I don’t understand.”

“Sure you do, I’m helping you get what you want.”

“But why?”

He lowers his hand, “Do you want the truth or the lie?”

You swallow, “Truth.”

He brushes the back of his knuckles against your cheek, “Are you sure? It’ll break your heart.” He says softly.

You smile sadly and bring his hand to your chest, right above your heart. Your eyes glitter with unshed tears as you look at him, “Already broken.”

You almost miss his sharp intake of breath at your admission. You suppose he’s happy, happy that you were in so much pain after shattering his heart. “So?” You say.

“The truth is that,” He swallows, “The only thing that hurts me more than you not being mine is seeing you so fuckin’ sad. So let me help you.” You look up at him with those big sad eyes that practically scream at him how much you love him. He can’t stand to look another second, “Come on.” He offers you his hand again.

You place your small hand in his and he brings you back inside, not even dropping your hand as you pass your husband and Lizzie who are looking even cozier than when you left. He brings you to the drawing room in view of the dining room and finally drops your hand to go to the gramophone.

You feel Benjamin’s eyes on your back, but you don’t turn, focusing on Tommy.

A smile breaks out on his face, “I knew you’d have it.”

He holds up a record that the two of you used to listen to so often, you had had to replace the record a couple years back. A small smile forms on your lips, “Tommy, are you sure?”

When the two of you were together, you had taken a dance class together, mostly as a joke, but then you surprised yourselves when you had so much fun with it. Soon, you were choreographing dances together and Tommy was spinning you around that abandoned house. It seemed lifetimes ago and you couldn’t believe that the man who went to France and came back ready to kill any man standing in his way would still know or want to dance with you like when you were barely adults. But he’s beaming at you now, hand extended and the song is starting.

Biting your lip to hide your smile, you curtsy to him before taking his hand and he did a slight bow in response. And then he’s whisking you around the room. You can tell he hasn’t done this in a while and neither had you, but as the song picks up you lock eyes with him. You hadn’t seen him this happy since before the war. The sight sends such a thrill through you, you laugh, and suddenly you’re both in sync.

The weight of both Benjamin’s and Lizzie’s stares nearly break you, “It’s just me and you,” Tommy whispers, noticing how the light had dimmed from you just a little, “Focus on me.” And you do, losing yourself in the music and Tommy’s touch. Tommy dips you, your head falling back and upside down, you can see Benjamin and Lizzie, their eyes on you just like you thought. Tommy pulls you back up and you nearly crash into his chest as the song ends. He clutches your hand to him and your foreheads nearly touch as you both breathe hard.

There’s footsteps behind you and you turn to look to Benjamin, a smile still on your face, and his hand collides with your cheek. There’s only silence for a few seconds and it takes you all of those seconds to realize that Benjamin has hit you and before you’ve reached that conclusion, Tommy’s fist is already connecting with Benjamin’s jaw.

“Stop, stop.” You reach for Tommy to pull him off your husband, “Tommy, that’s enough!”

He had only punched Benjamin twice before you were able to pull him off and then he’s looking at you, “Are you alright?” There’s such concern in his eyes, he even brings his hands up to your face, eyes darting back and forth to assess the damage.

But your husband is still here so you push him away, “I’m fine, you should go.”

He’s looking at you like you’re crazy, “I won’t leave you with him.” He says quietly enough that you’re sure you’re the only one who heard him.

“Yes you will.” You look at him with cold, calculated calm. Your husband is still lying on the floor with stupid Lizzie coddling him, “You both should go.” You repeat.

Tommy is still staring at you and Lizzie has risen from where she was crouching next to your husband, placing a hand on Tommy’s arm, “Thomas, let’s go.”

You hate the familiarity of the touch, you’re able to tell she’s done it several times before. “Listen to your wife.” You say bitterly and that ice in his eyes is back. He simply backs away from you, Lizzie pulling him out the door.

“You humiliate me.” Benjamin says, now sitting upright and dabbing at blood at the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief. It gives you sick satisfaction that Tommy had made him bleed.

“You humiliate yourself.” You say coldly.

“You danced with him like… Like you were some whore.”

You flinch at the insult, “I told you I knew him from Oxford, we took ballroom together. We were simply reminiscing.”

“You think me an imbecile,” He chuckles, “I saw the way you looked at each other. You’ve never once looked at me like that.”

Now you laugh and the sound makes him flinch, “Benjamin, when we met I looked at you like the sun and the moon set on your command, do not insinuate otherwise.” Your voice shakes with anger, “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to touch and talk to me the way you talked to Tommy's wife all goddamn night. That’s why I danced with him. I wanted to make you jealous, I didn’t think you’d hit me.”

He’s shaking his head, “That doesn’t change the fact that you once bedded that man and then brought him into my house.”

You stare at him blankly, “If I recall correctly, you were the one who invited him here. And I daresay, Benjamin, with the way you were with his wife I have no doubt what you do on those business trips. I will not be made the villain when all I’ve done is begged for your love from day one.” He looks away from you at that and you relish how you’ve made him submit to you after being submissive for so long, “I’m going to bed, you’re welcome to wallow here in your weakness if you’d like.”

***

Tommy drives in silence with Lizzie next to him, quietly fuming. He has half a mind to turn around and drag you from that house himself, but he knew you’d never forgive him for that. “Was a bit daft to dance with her like that in front of her husband, don’t you think, Tom?”

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, the only indication of his agitation, “Was a bit daft to flirt with her husband in front of her for three straight hours, don’t you think, Lizzie?”

“He advanced on me--”

“No,” Tommy’s shaking his head, “No, don’t give me that bullshit. You knew what she meant to me and you went in there to purposely hurt her. Well congratu-fucking-lations Lizzie, you won.”

“As if you didn’t enjoy seeing her hurting after she left you.”

“Don’t talk about things you don’t know.” He said dangerously.

“Fine, Tommy,” She says, slumping in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest, “Let her destroy you again, went so well for you the first time.”

He doesn’t respond as he knows there is some truth to what Lizzie is saying. He would let you destroy him again, he would give you his last breath if that was what you wanted.

***

When you wake the next morning, Benjamin is gone. The maid told you he left in the early hours of the morning and handed you a note.

I know what he is and I know what you are. Don’t be here when I return.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Who had told him? How had he figured it out?

The answer was obvious. It had to have been fucking Thomas, trying to force your hand after you refused to leave with him. You crumpled the note and ran back upstairs to get dressed. You figured you had a few days until Benjamin came home, maybe you could still sort it out. The first order of business was going to yell at Tommy.

***

When he sees you walking down the streets of Small Heath looking murderous, he wonders what he’s done. Maybe this is a response to the previous night, but you hadn’t seemed homicidal when he left you.

“What the fuck did you tell him?” You greeted him by shoving him against the nearest building. He raised his arms in bored surrender, not wanting to cause a scene, but you didn’t seem to care about that, “Did you turn around and come back and tell him everything? Do you think I’ll run off with you now that I have nowhere to go?” Tears run down your cheeks now and he frowns in concern, “Well I won’t. I’m fucking done with you, Thomas Shelby. I don’t care if I have to beg on the streets--”

“What are you talking about?” He interjects finally. You look him over, eyes darting over his face and you can see there’s genuine confusion there. He didn’t do this.

Rubbing at your eyes, you sit on the nearest surface, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay, “He knows who you are. Which means he knows who I am. He’s kicking me out.”

He gently puts a hand on your elbow, “Come inside. Please.”

For once, you let yourself be guided. He brings you inside the building that says Shelby Company Limited on the outside and then suddenly the rest of the Shelby family is staring at you.

“Tommy,” Polly says softly, staring at you with a hand on her heart, “You told us she was dead.”

You blink and then turn to Tommy who won’t look at any of you, “She was.”

Tommy Shelby had told his whole family that you were dead rather than go through the humiliation of explaining that you had left your old life behind in favor of another. Left him behind. You supposed, in a way, you had died.

Polly’s gaze drifts to your hand where you’re fiddling with your wedding ring. “Oh, Tommy. Tell me you haven’t killed someone’s husband.”

“Not yet,” The words send a jolt through you, “Stay here.” He orders, squeezing your shoulder.

“Tommy, wait,” He turns back to you, “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to kill him before he ruins you and then you’ll have your pick of any lord you’d like. Maybe one of them will actually love you this time. Isn’t that what you want?”

It feels like a dig though you’re not sure he meant it to be one, “No.”

Sensing the energy in the room, the rest of Tommy’s family dispersed, leaving the two of you alone.

“What d’ya mean ‘no’?” There’s a bit of anger in his voice, “You don’t want to be with me, you don’t want to be a lady anymore, are you gonna live on the streets?”

“For your information, Thomas, if I wanted I could make a living for myself,” He scoffs. “But you’re wrong.”

“About what?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, eyes glittering with tears, “I do want to be with you.” After finally uttering the words, you brace yourself for rejection.

He stares at you and then rubs a hand over his face. He begins shaking his head, “You don’t mean that.”

You walk to him and reach your hands up to frame his face. You expect him to move away from your touch, but he doesn’t. When you gently stroke his face with your thumbs he closes his eyes and you truly understand how you had broken this man in front of you, “I do,” You say again, “And I’m sorry for ever making you think you didn’t deserve me.”

Finally, he does push your hands away and walks to the window on the far side of the room, his back to you, “I still want to kill him.” He says softly.

You frown, “Tommy--”

“If you weren’t in that room last night I would have kept punching and kicking and gouging his eyes out with my bare hands for daring to put a hand on you.” His voice is dangerously low, “Is that still the kind of man that you want?” He finishes bitterly.

He would kill a man for you. The thought sends a thrill through you. “I’ve spent the last few years of my life with a man who didn’t even attempt to learn my favorite type of jam, Tommy, do you understand?”

“It’s strawberry.”

You raise your eyebrows, “What?”

He finally turns to you, “Your favorite jam, it’s strawberry. I used to wait in line for hours in the summer when strawberries were in season to get some for you.” He smiles a bit to himself at the memory, “It was always worth it for the smile and kiss on the cheek you gave me.”

Tears finally cascade down your cheeks as you recall the memory, “I’d forgotten about that.” You say softly, “Tommy, it’s me who doesn’t deserve you.”

“You told me minutes ago that you wouldn’t run off with me, that you were done--”

“I know,” You say, “That’s when I thought you had betrayed me, that you wanted to force me to be with you--”

“I would never force you to be with me.” He says fiercely, “I would never force this life, this fuckin’ hell, on anyone.”

You shake your head, “I know what you’ve become since you came home. Knowing all of that, knowing what you’re truly capable of, I still choose you. I know you’re my only chance of real happiness.”

He stares at you for another few moments, “So you’ll marry me, then? The whole bit?”

You smile, “I imagined this whole bit to be much more romantic, but yes, I’ll marry you, Thomas.”

“You can’t change your mind once Benjamin comes back, it’s me or you figure out your own way.”

“I’m not choosing you because of the money. I’ve had the money, all it did was make me miserable.”

He steps to you and runs a thumb over your lips, “You’re really mine then, eh?”

“You know,” Familiar mischief lights up your eyes, “Benjamin won’t be back for a few days… What do you say we drink his expensive wine straight from the bottle and fuck on every surface we can.”

Tommy finally cracks a smile, “God, I fuckin’ love you.”

You laugh and go up on your toes to kiss him. He immediately dips his head to you, breathing you in deep as he kisses you. His tongue slides along your lip until you open to him, awarding him with a soft moan. His tongue strokes against yours and you feel hot need for him pooling between your thighs when he pulls away.

He relishes the pout on your face at his absence, “Save it for Benjamin’s bed, princess.” He smirks and tugs you out of the building, lifting you onto your horse. And as he rides, your arms wrapped around his waist, you only wish you had had the wisdom to choose Tommy Shelby first.

#mine #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby x reader

167 notes · View notes