#this originally had more rambling lol youre welcome for me cutting it

[daenystheedreamer]

Am I the only one who gets Hadrian vibes from Renly?

mm in that theyre gay king (or emperor in hadrian's case) but really only from the gay bit 😭 and idk i think the power dynamics between renly and loras are a little less intense? their levels of power are relatively equal despite renly being royal. like the tyrell wealth + the fact its the major backing for renly.

BUT there's certainly the age gap with loras being 15/16 and renly 21 in agot/acok and the fact loras is his squire and the ages for squire are about ten and up which like. can imply something of a pederastic element even though i dont personally believe this is the case nor do i think grrm wrote it that way. honestly loras' age in general comes across like part of the grrm age blindness quirk? then again loras is an important parallel to jaime, himself knighted at 15, so his youth is certainly important both within the narrative itself (loras being brash) and thematically ("He’s me, Jaime realized suddenly. I am speaking to myself, as I was, all cocksure arrogance and empty chivalry. This is what it does to you, to be too good too young.")

but thinking it through now, including antinous in this analysis makes it more vivid. antinous was a boy and a slave and has become this leering symbol of youthful male beauty. loras is a boy who is angry and wroth and full of grief he does not understand. but he's also this beautiful boy lusted for by women, revered as the greatest swordsman, a symbol of tyrell and feudal excellence. this kind of narrative on perception really fits with a person/character like antinous, who was a real person but in death (and life!) lost all rights to how he was seen. though TBH if anyone were to deify their dead lover and erect monuments to their greatness it would be widower arc loras LOL

apologies for the ramblings and tangents! this ask made me think lots thank you i need to think about loras more i forgot how fun he is<3 short answer im not sure long answer yes question mark

[koritea]

if you've already elaborated on it i definitely missed it but what's the general premise of COTS if you have the time/energy to elaborate >:0

Oh man [gripping the table to maintain my sanity] you have no idea how much this ask means to me I am SO MENTALLY ILL ABOUT THIS STORY LMAO

I've wanted to write a book since I was like. 10. And I've rewritten this particular story so many times it has zero resemblance to the original plot. WEEPS.

Putting this under the cut cause it got long LOL

Okay so firstly, there's the A-side and the B-side. Most of what I post here is B-side content (Icarus, Atticus, Empress, etc.), but the A-side is the main cast/storyline the books will follow.

To give a rough outline - the gist of it, if you will:

Our main character, Aria (some modern century twenty-something D&D nerd) gets thrown into another world via a magic door.

The story follows the same sort of cadence as a D&D campaign (you meet someone in town willing to give you information, something bad happens in the town that forces you to fight or flee, you want to help these people so you wind up biting off more than you can chew, etc.) but very quickly there's some weird stuff that comes up that isn't typical of your average campaign, and Aria gets pulled further into shenanigans with time gods, dragons, undead kingdoms and a familiar face turned catalyst.

She gets turned into a cat at one point :)

There's dimension hopping and timeloops and fucked up horror and maybe a sprinkle of murder and resurrection and betrayal and falling in love and consequences and I havE LORE FOR A STUPID PATCH OF GRASS I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING

B-side is mostly here because I can't not give all my character deep and meaningful lore. Wdym the bg character shouldn't have a 24k word document about his mother's necklace. What.

Icarus my favoritest boy my baby my big silly stupid flew too close to the sun and the sun said I love you and sacrificed itself to save him and the consequences nearly collapsed the universe and the gods had to piece together bits and parts of themselves to fill the gap but it's still not enough and the time god is so fucking tired of resetting the world to buy them time (hah) but it's all it can do because it loves so deeply and is not built to express it and it's tearing itself apart and and and-

Icarus is sort of the "main" character of B-side, but it's more like a collection of background stories of characters rarely/only hinted at in A-side, but they still effect the worlds enough to be important.

Empress has a whole arc at spans twice as long as Atticus's does.

Oh yeah and there's different pantheons and some things like gravity and time get wonky and there's the War of the Stars and the day the magic stopped and there's the inexplicable lack of something that no one remembers and there's this weird ass sphynx that pops up every now and then.

And I'm definitely rambling but you are MORE than welcome to ask questions. I am. Insane about this project. Maybe. Just a little. I might have four animatics sketched out and a dozen more in my head.

I have song playlists too!!

[ducki3qua3k]

Chapter 1: Welcome to Banban's Kindergarten

A/N: So by now I'm sure you must've heard of Garten of Banban, but if you haven't already Garten of Banban is an indie mascot horror game. It's become pretty popular recently with big streamers and YouTubers such as Markiplier, CaseOh, and other people playing it.

I first caught wind of it when the first game was released and I thought it was pretty good, so I continued to watch as the other games were released.

It's safe to say I have grown obsessed with it and it has almost become a comfort game for me. It's just too campy to hate, y'know. Anyways let me get back on topic, I decided to join the hype train and write a fanfic of it. I basically wanted to expand the world and give it a little more context.

I originally wrote it from a fem pov, but I'll try to write more gender-inclusive stuff in the future. I also decided to name your son Andy, but if you don't like it you can always change it. I mainly wanted to name him Andy after Andy from Child's Play and Andy from Toy Story (I also left a small Toy Story reference somewhere in the text lol).

Let me stop rambling and just cut to the story. I hope you enjoy this and if you do I might consider continuing this and dropping some other stuff if you're interested.

I don't even know where to begin... I made a lot of mistakes in life. Like a lot of mistakes.

For example, falling in love with my high school sweetheart, got pregnant, decided to keep the baby, and then had my parents kick me out. To top it all off, my high school sweetheart broke up with me, leaving me to navigate being a single mother alone.

But one mistake I never regretted was my son, Andy.

For a long while, I debated just giving the baby up for adoption and begging for my parents to take me back in. That was until I saw and held him in my arms for the first time. I instantly fell in love and knew I had to take care of him, no matter what happened.

I had managed to secure two jobs that helped pay the bills and found a small apartment for us to live in. The walls may have been thin, and the furniture may have been secondhand, but it was ours, a place where Andy could grow and thrive.

My scholarship was a saving grace, easing the financial burden of pursuing my education. Even though the days were long and exhausting, I pushed through, fueled by the determination to give Andy a better future. Juggling assignments, late shifts, and early mornings with a baby in tow was no easy feat, but every moment spent with Andy made it all worthwhile.

The sideways glances and hushed whispers that followed me as I navigated through the day were like a constant buzz in the background. People judged, people talked, but I had learned to tune them out. Their opinions didn't matter; what mattered was Andy's well-being and happiness.

As Andy grew older, he became a ray of sunshine in my life, his laughter filling our small apartment with warmth. Despite the challenges we faced, his presence brought joy and purpose to my days.

After finally settling into a routine of balancing work, school, and caring for Andy, life seemed to be slowly falling into place.

That was until recently...

Andy turned five, a milestone that brought both excitement and apprehension to my heart. As his birthday approached, the reality of enrolling him into kindergarten loomed over me like a dark cloud, casting shadows of uncertainty and worry.

I knew the time had come to take the next step, to send Andy off to his first school experience. It was a moment I had been dreading, knowing that once he stepped into that classroom, he would be taking a leap into the world beyond our little cocoon of safety and familiarity.

It was during one of our routine walks around the neighborhood that I first caught wind of the new kindergarten opening up near us. The news spread like wildfire among the parents, whispers of a state-of-the-art facility with promises of innovative teaching methods and a vibrant learning environment.

The air was heavy with tension, filled with the murmurs of worried parents and the occasional sound of a ringing phone. Every passing minute felt like an eternity, each second dragging on in agonizing silence. I couldn't bear the uncertainty, the gnawing fear that gripped my heart like a vice.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a stern-faced officer called my name. My heart leaped into my throat as I stood up, my legs trembling beneath me. I trailed behind him as we walked down a lengthy corridor, the bright fluorescent lights flickering above us, offering a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

We entered a small, dimly lit room, and I took a seat across from the officer, my hands trembling in my lap. He fixed me with a serious gaze, his eyes searching mine for any hint of emotion.

"We've been investigating the school," he began, his voice steady but grave. "And I'm afraid to say that we haven't found any trace of your son, Andy, or any of the other children who were in the kindergarten that day."

My heart plummeted into the depths of despair, an icy chill spreading through my veins. Andy, my sweet, innocent boy, was missing without a trace. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I had to stay strong for Andy.

"Please, is there anything else you can tell me? Any leads, any clues?" I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper.

The officer shook his head solemnly, his expression pained. "I'm sorry, ma'am. We're doing everything we can to find out what happened, but it's like they've all vanished into thin air."

I felt a surge of frustration and helplessness wash over me. How could this be happening? Where was my precious Andy? The officer promised to keep me updated with any recent developments, but as I left the station, a heavy weight settled in the pit of my stomach.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into a torturous eternity of not knowing. The constant ache of uncertainty gnawed at my mind, driving me to the brink of madness. I couldn't bear the thought of never seeing Andy again, of never hearing his laughter or feeling his small arms wrapped around me in a tight hug.

And so, fueled by a mother's love and desperation, I made a decision. As the darkness of night descended upon the city, I gathered my resolve and set out to uncover the truth behind Banban's Kindergarten and find my missing son, no matter the cost.

I got past the gate and endless police tape before reaching the door. I took out a lock pick, and after a couple of attempts, finally opened the door.

I took a deep breath in and prepared myself to discover whatever was going on with this school and find my son.

As I entered the building, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The once colorful and warm interior filled with excited kids racing through the halls now felt lonely and unnerving.

I glanced at the mural on the wall of the school's mascots. From what you remember Andy telling you, there's Banban, Banbanleena, Jumbo Josh, Stinger Flynn, Opila Bird, and Captain Fiddles.

It was a strange batch of characters that would make most children excited, but you just found them unsettling. Especially Banban, the supposed leader and main character. You've always found something off about him, especially with his weird obsession with pancreases and the fact you weren't exactly sure what he was. Some kind of devil or red monster?

I brushed it off and carefully began to explore the area. I noticed most of the doors required a key card to get past, and one door seemed to be a maintenance room.

I looked around for the key to the door, before finding a blue key card sitting on the reception desk. I unlocked the door and found a remote and drone waiting inside.

Unfortunately, it needed batteries, but fortunately enough, I found a note with familiar handwriting. It was Andy's.

I quickly skimmed it to see what he could've possibly written. It read: 'Dear Mommy, I am hiding in a room, but I have to fight the monster. It's the only way to make Claire like me' with two stick figures which seemed to be him and another girl Claire, trying to fight some strange bird.

I quickly put a hand over my mouth to choke back a sob. I felt so relieved to know he was alright, but now I had to worry about finding him.

With renewed determination, I set out to locate the batteries for the drone. I scoured the cafeteria area, my eyes scanning every corner until I spotted two batteries tucked away in a forgotten corner.

Returning to the maintenance room, I swiftly inserted the batteries into the drone, a soft hum filling the air as it came to life. Since I couldn't reach the button, I decided to use the drone to push it instead and somehow it worked.

As the doors of the mysterious kindergarten creaked open, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at my quick thinking. The drone had come through for me, pushing the unreachable button and granting me access to the unknown corridor beyond.

However, that fleeting sense of pride quickly dissipated as the doors swung wide open, revealing a dark, empty corridor that seemed to stretch on endlessly.

Before me lay a large indoor playground, designed to mimic a forest setting, complete with artificial trees and foliage. In the center of the room, I saw the bird once more, perched in front of a boarded-up ball pit. This time, however, it appeared to be a lifeless, animatronic figure rather than a living creature.

That's when I noticed a message scrawled on the wall behind the bird, written in bold letters: 'Opila Bird mission! Opila Bird is unbelievably hungry! Find all 6 eggs to get your prize.'

I figured that finding these eggs would somehow open the blocked-off room, so I searched around for any of the eggs.

I managed to find all of them and fed them to the Opila bird. With a mechanical whirr, the bird's eyes glowed a bright red, and a high pitched, shrieking noise emanated from its beak. It opened its maw and, to my surprise, spat out a yellow key card onto the ground.

I pocketed the key card and made my way towards the classroom across from the playground.

The door creaked open with a soft groan, revealing a small, brightly colored classroom.

My eyes scanned the room, taking in the familiar sight of colorful plastic chairs and tables arranged haphazardly around the space. A whiteboard stood at the front of the room, the words 'the end is near' scrawled across it in messy handwriting.

In the corner of the room, a solitary chair sat surrounded by a low barrier of yellow glass, a sign above it declaring it as the 'naughty corner. The idea of a child actually being forced to sit there rubbed you the wrong way, but you supposed it was a much more humane type of punishment than the ones you've heard of.

My attention was drawn to a yellow card reader mounted on the wall near the time-out corner. Remembering the key card I had obtained from the Opila bird, I inserted it into the reader. A button lit up, prompting me to direct the drone to press it once more.

As the button was pushed, a blue locker in the corner of the room clicked open, revealing its contents.

Inside, a crumpled note with the words 'distraction 1' caught my eye, accompanied by a sturdy hammer resting beside it. The significance of the note eluded me, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it held a clue to the mysteries surrounding this strange kindergarten.

Recalling the boarded-up ball pit in the playground, I knew the hammer could be the key to unlocking the next phase of my search for Andy. I pocketed the note and the hammer before making my way back to the playground.

I stepped forward, raised the hammer, and began to methodically pry away the wooden boards with each thud of the hammer against the wood reverberating through the room.

As the last board clattered to the ground, I cautiously stepped into the ball pit room, my eyes widened in shock at the sight that greeted me.

The room was dominated by a gaping, dark hole that seemed to stretch endlessly into an ominous abyss. The darkness within was so deep and consuming, it felt as though it could swallow me whole.

Questions raced through my mind in a frantic whirl. How could such a perilous void exist within an elementary school? What if a child accidentally stumbled and fell into this treacherous pit of darkness? The mere thought sent a shiver down my spine, a chill that gripped me with a sense of foreboding.

After a momentary pause, I noticed another yellow key card reader and inserted the card.

Suddenly, a faint whirring sound filled the air, and to my surprise, a ski lift descended from the ceiling, its metallic frame gleaming in the dim light. The unexpected sight left me momentarily stunned, but I quickly composed myself and took a seat, the soft hum of the lift's machinery resonating around me.

Pressing the button on the wall, the ski lift ascended slowly, carrying me above the dark expanse below. The lack of railings made me squirm a bit in my seat, the precariousness of the situation not lost on me. Every creak of the lift, every sway, felt like walking across a tightrope.

As the ski lift came to a halt, I disembarked, my heart racing with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. Before me loomed a puzzling challenge. The mascots of the kindergarten lined up with the enigmatic question, 'What's my color?' scrawled on the wall. Banban, Banbanleena, Opila, each with their distinct hues, their animated eyes seeming to follow my every move.

Furrowing my brow in concentration, I racked my brain, recalling the colors of each mascot as if my son's fate depended on it.

From what you recalled, Banban was red, Banbanleena was white, Jumbo Josh was green, Captain Fiddles was light purple, Opila was pink, and Stinger Flynn was orange.

My answer must've been right, because the lights all lit up green and unlocked the locker. With cautious optimism, I reached out to grab the orange key card that emerged from the newly opened locker.

However, my fleeting moment of triumph was abruptly shattered by the low hum of machinery coming to life. A chill ran down my spine as I turned to see the familiar, ominous figure of the bird from earlier, now looming closer as it was carried towards me by the mechanism of the ski lift.

Its red eyes gleamed malevolently in the dim light, and I could feel the weight of its gaze bore into me. The air in the room seemed to thicken with tension, and a sense of urgency gripped my heart. This was no time for celebration; danger lurked just around the corner, ready to pounce.

Instinct kicked in, adrenaline fueling my actions as I swiftly pocketed the orange key card and scanned the room for a means of escape. The ski lift groaned ominously as it drew nearer, the bird's presence casting a shadow over my every thought. I needed to act fast and think faster.

Without a moment's hesitation, I grabbed my trusty drone, its familiar hum a comforting buzz in the midst of chaos. With a steady hand, I maneuvered it towards the looming bird, a bead of sweat trickling down my temple.

"Come on...Come on!" I whispered urgently, willing the drone to hit the button with precision. Time seemed to slow as the drone closed the distance, the birds advance relentless. The weight of the moment pressed down on me, a symphony of fear and determination playing in my veins.

And then, with a sharp click, the button was pressed. A surge of relief flooded through me as a pathway materialized out of the wall. Without hesitation, I leaped onto the newly formed path, my heart pounding in rhythm with my frantic steps.

The bird, now in hot pursuit, its presence a looming threat at my heels, drove me forward. The urgency of the moment was palpable, each heartbeat a thunderous drumbeat in my ears. The other side beckoned, a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

With a final, desperate leap, I cleared the gap and landed on the opposite platform, my breath ragged in my chest. The emergency stop button caught my eye, a last resort in the face of danger. With a swift motion, I inserted the orange key card; the mechanism whirring to life at my touch.

A cacophony of screeches filled the air as the bird, now thwarted in its pursuit, plummeted into the dark abyss below. The resounding thud reverberated through the room, a grim reminder of the peril that lurked within this twisted place.

As the sound of the bird’s demise disappeared, I paused to compose myself, calm my racing heart, and gather my resolve. I finally got up and decided to continue on my journey.

The adrenaline from narrowly escaping the relentless Opila bird still pulsed through my veins as I approached the door at the end of the hallway.

With a deep breath, I inserted the orange key card into the slot, the metallic click echoing in the empty hallway. The door slid open with a faint hiss, revealing a dimly lit room beyond.

Steeling myself, I stepped inside; the door shutting with a soft thud behind me. The room was smaller than I expected, barren except for a few mismatched chairs and a desk with a computer perched on top.

My eyes landed on a card reader hidden under the desk, its red light beckoning me forward. Without hesitation, I activated it with the orange key card, not knowing what to expect next. Suddenly, the ground trembled beneath my feet, and before I could react, half of the floor slid down, revealing a hidden elevator shaft.

I watched in awe as an elevator ascended from the depths below, its metal doors opening with a soft ding. Hope surged within me as I realized this might be the way to find my missing son, Andy. Without a second thought, I stepped into the elevator; the doors closing behind me with a mechanical hum.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly until the lights abruptly started flickering a sinister shade of red, bathing the small space in a crimson glow.

A low, guttural growl reverberated through the metal walls, sending shivers down my spine. Panic welled up within me as I frantically searched for the source of the ominous sound. Suddenly, a massive clay hand clamped onto the railing of the elevator, causing it to lurch and shake violently.

I staggered, trying to maintain my balance as a colossal figure loomed into view. It was Jumbo Josh, but this version was grotesque, almost monstrous, in its clay-like form. Before the situation could escalate further, the elevator plummeted, sending us both into a free fall, the world spinning around us in a dizzying blur.

The sudden drop stole my breath, and as darkness closed in around me, I could only brace myself for what awaited at the bottom of this unexpected descent.

[vesperaink]

FINALLY @onawhimsicot 's awesome Life Series Team Rancher Superhero AU fic, Tangotek Evil Incorporated is posted and I get to share my initial concept art for Dr. Blaze and Canary respectively!

if anyone makes fanart of TTEI, you're welcome to use my designs with credit or make your own!! There's nothing more superhero comic than every artist doing their own take <3

I've loved seeing Cadence's event artists takes on their outfits they're SO GOOD. I love seeing all the different designs!!! PLEASE @ me and Cadence I promise you, we'd love to see it <333 Also my ask box is always open if you want to chat!

I'm definitely going to be making more polished designs and drawing for this universe in the future (superhero aus my beloved I had SO much fun designing them)!

but for now, if you also love character design, have way too many thoughts about Ranchers and hero/villain costumes like me, and 3 pages wasn't enough, buckle up and enjoy my extra ramble under the cut:

EXTRA:

When Cadence asked me to help design their outfits, the request boiled down to "i just need ideas, you don't have to like draw a whole Thing" but I'm so Normal about my blorbos so uh naturally it became A Whole Thing and when I got to Canary I had to frantically hit the brakes on my character design brain from making him too cool

Tango's design came easy, Canary's outfit less so. Surprisingly it's kinda hard to make a somewhat on theme but also basic hero outfit jsakfhajskfh

criteria for Canary at the time was a mix of on bird theme but also NOT on theme since he needed to be a bit basic for context of the fic so he WILL be getting a glow up later

We debated giving Canary a gas mask vs a beak-like mask for a long time, the bandana is my compromise while also hitting that Basic vibe. Its also a nod towards my Sheriff!Jimmy design & Ranchers

We have a long history of working on a OC superhero universe (lovingly dubbed soupverse) together, and while I also just think plague doctor vibes are Neat the concept of the beak being a hero/villain mask is partially pulled from my main villain, Crow who is also bird themed (shocking i know)

Canary having a silly jumpsuit was also loosely inspired by Zedaph's high dive Zedvancement skin from his S9 Ep 1!

Tinted lenses to hide your identity my beloved, what if we both had colored tinted lenses and were red and blue coded and were nemeses...haha jk...unless?

Just the other day, Cadence said to me what if Canary wore Uggs and lowkey he might asjkfhaksjf

Parrot, while not depicted eventually got summed up to Aviator vibes and obviously Canary had to match

A lot of this reference sheet was originally scrawled in my notes app and generally in my head. I cleaned it up for the event so while I'm sorry it's so messy, it was worse originally LOL

[glitchpirate]

It's 2023 and I'm still using the same template now 7 years in a row! Yippeee!

This year I decided to ramble about each artwork presented so uh. Storytime! Under the cut.

(Also usual reminder that now I have a GW2 side blog so that's where I'll upload GW2 artworks from now on -> @glitchgw2 (except the zine piece because I entered the zine with this blog))

January: I was going through a bit of an artblock, most of the things I drew this month were traced. One of the only things not traced was this Anassy! "Ah, etto... bleh!" I said after tracing the 5th drawing I saw on the internet.

February: a commission! Long overdue, but I finally finished it. Sylvaries are always tough to render. >.< The other things I drew this month were art party doodles and personal stuff.

March: one of the two months where the featured piece is the only thing I "finished" that month. And last minute, too! Made for trans visibility day which was on the very last day of March.

April: due to several things, Tyria Pride 2022's art commission giveaways got delayed to 2023. This was my piece for the person I was assigned to! ^_^ This was fun, I found out some new ways to render sylvari hair...

May: I vividly remember seeing a Diavolo art with this same reference and I was like hey. I could do this too but with Lucien. How haven't I done this before. P.S.: he's actually nothing like Bateman but it's a sick cover anyway lol. Mmm knife...

June: it was a sick (as in like epic) month for me. I reworked Dawn and Incendere (my Ghost OC), welcomed my unhinged self and drew a lot of nsfw. But not good nor holy enough to share. :P But it was a nice practice anyway. I chose one drawing of Dawn because out of everything I drew it looks the most "clean" and finished.

July: I remembered My Life as a Teenage Robot as I do tri-monthly and almost made an AU for Lucien. Almost. So instead I just made whatever this is. This was one of the most fun pieces I've ever did, I finally feel comfortable lining in CSP and just in general this was super shapey and smooth to work on. <3

August: Tyria Pride giveaway commission but this time, in time! I got to work on a lovely charr which I don't do often! My other choices would have been a cropped nsfw commission but I lowkey like this one better.

September: the other month where I didn't draw anything but this. Had a banger idea for Gliaster's future which is them becoming a lich but also being corrupted by malignant powers so they're now even more evil and also driven by vengeance towards the Commander and Aurene. Tried to come up with a design for them, alas this piece. It's... very in progress. But I like said progress so far.

October: the opportunity for an art related full-time job came up which meant I had to up my portfolio and draw some realistic/semi-realistic studies. I was surprised by myself lmao but ngl it was also a big pain in the ass. Art is suffering. <3

November: the continuation of October but now with an original piece! Felt like drawing one of my best friend's GW2 characters. <3 Haven't uploaded this one yet as I might rework the background sometime.

December: and finally, my piece for Commander Of Your Heart GW2 zine! Which wasn't actually restricted to only Commander characters, but any other OCs/player characters too, so of course I chose Gliaster. :D And we can apparently show teasers, so I can include this little bit! But what is Gliaster up to? Find out in February, for free!

*

Aaand that's it. It was actually super fun to look back to the year not only in pictures but some words too. :D If you read this all, I appreciate you, thank you so much. <3

[robot-singularity]

Alright so, hear me out, locked tomb/doctor who crossover

(my original thought was Ten and Donna at the start of Gideon the Ninth, but it could probs work other ways)

(like Canaan House would probs make more sense plot wise, bc that's a whole ass haunted house castle, but also "hey let's go check out Pluto! Wait what's w the skull cult? I wonder what's in this locked tomb in the depths of the planet?")

(continued under the cut bc I ramble a bit)

Anyways! Gideon would jump at the chance to get the hell off the Ninth (tho I'm not sure as of yet how Harrow would be persuaded to go with them)

Time travel besties adopt a couple of plutonian goth teens

The various interactions between all four of these characters is also really fun to consider

(Ten and Harrow: two scrawny mfs studying each other like bugs, Ten and Gideon: for the love of God please stop chucking yourselves onto the railing, Donna and Harrow: tempted to throw hands w this 17 year old bone nun, Donna and Gideon: red head squad :) (what do you mean you've never had tea?))

Also, new outfits from the tardis's wardrobe (aka Gideon somehow makes an outfit gaudier than Six's lmao)(also, Harrow (begrudgingly) in five layers, including an oversized nine inch nails hoodie she can hide bones underneath (the face paint stays on tho))(also also! Gideon picking a less gaudy outfit, and coming out in Nine's leather jacket (and Ten winds up explaining regeneration earlier than he canonically did lol))

Also, based on Harrows first night at Canaan, she tries to map the TARDIS, and it doesn't make any logical spacial sense. (She hates this, vehemently.) (Welcome to non-euclidian geometry, Reverend Daughter.)

Ten mentions his Christmas sword fight, and Gideon asks him to spar ("and if you get injured, you can patch yourself up, since you're a doctor and all!" "Weeelllll...") (Anyways, predictably, Gideon "best swordswoman the Ninth has ever produced" Nav immediately disarms Ten and decks him. Bitch went down lmao)

(also Gideon and Harrow doing their normal trying to beat the shit out of each other thing, Donna makes an aside like hey should we break this up or? And Tens like, nah, that's just, normal childhood best friendship, ya know? And Donna's just like, mate wtf are you on about???)

Basically, just a whole lot of Harrow and Gideon getting to be somewhat normal teens (or at least pretend for the most part)

(also, fun whump consideration: Ten (post Journeys End) 🤝 Harrow (post gtn/during htn): what losing your ginger better half does to a mfer (⁠´⁠;⁠︵⁠;⁠`⁠))

I have so many thoughts on this but I need to go to sleep gn

[flatspot]

quick post for the end of the year bc i'm still lurking here as per. while this has maybe been the worst season of f1 i've had to endure since 2016, at least we've all been fucking miserable together.

getting sappy with it. this was supposed to be under a cut but i'm on mobile and can't figure out how to do it. i'm too tipsy to care, sorry.

@fullwets we graduated from being unhinged about one thing to being unhinged about so many more terrible things. ur my best friend, the first and last person i speak to most days, we finally got to see each other this year and tbh any number of days is too many until i fly over. u make my life so much easier even when ur sometimes actively trying not to. ily. mis u. ur my favourite.

@amgroscoe we balance out each other's conspiracies. or we just egg each other on. i'm so glad we had our impromptu italy trip, one of the genuine highlights of this year. i miss our karaoke dance parties in the hotel rooms. norway in t-11 days, can't wait to freeze our asses off. one of the very few people in my life i've instantly felt comfortable around irl 🤍

@ultrasofts idk if i would have made it through this year without you. love u for being insane about lewis with me, and for dragging me down when i get a little too invested in Theories. i'm still holding out hope we're gonna make it to a gp this year or next year. or i'll just come invade your sofa bed. ur very important to me.

@oversteerey lol origin curator. your unhinged ramblings are going to keep me going once our idiots are actually in f1 together. we deserved so much more. cough. liam. and i can't describe how happy i get every time you rb our hockey boys. welcome to the bad side.

@alfalfatauri ily crow girls bubba. sleepy beepy. we're due another insanity session while scottie's asleep. i need us to start looking out for our alpaca farm we're all gonna go live on. pls kiss hazza on the forehead for me.

@josefnewgayden so indebted to you for teaching me everything i know about ps and gif making. and for forming the bonocule with us. most important gc i'm in tbh. still a little bit insane to me that the person who makes the ridiculous edits and gifsets is a friend now. here's crossing our fingers we get the thing we are all Really Really Hoping for this season.

okay i gotta go eat 12 grapes with the 12 bells of the new year for good luck apparently brb wish me luck so i don't choke

[5daysofygofemslash]

Prompts Explanation, Origins, and Ideas

Need help getting the ball rolling for some inspiration? Or just plain curious as to how I plucked the 2023 prompts out of the ether? Look no further than under the cut!

Warning: long and self-indulgent rambling under the cut. Nothing of too much importance haha

Mod Merry

Beach

This was a prompt from last year which made it to the semi-finals of my selections so I figured it could be used. Thank you to the Anon from last year who suggested it!

Ideas: A day out on the beach and all the fun that comes with it. Or perhaps a merperson romance AU? Do anything ships that remind you of the beach come to mind? Seasideshipping (Aoi/Kiku/Miyu) is an example that comes to mind but there's likely plenty more characters who would be totally interested in hitting the sun and sand.

Snow

Chosen to complement "beach" for those of us who may be in colder weather during the prompt fill period just before posting. So from one extreme to another.

Ideas: For ZeXal enjoyers, this prompt has Kamishiro Rio's name written all over it (and that's intentional lol). Snowbirdshipping, Snowanimalshipping, there's plenty of Rio to go around and other snowy themed girls, too, like Olga from Arc V or Asuka when she was in her Society of Light era. For some scenarios, however, think about snowballs fights or drinking some hot cocoa by the fire. Or maybe some hypothermic whump might be just what the doctor ordered. Or maybe the fairy tale Snow White is ripe for your picking.

Alternatively, if you are looking to superload your event/prompt fills quota, as is allowed with the event rules, snow is an elligible fill for the 100ships challenge (on dreamwidth) if that sounds up your alley.

Sharing a Bed

This is one of the mod's favourite tropes. Its versatile and dependable, a staple of the shipping scene and so it just had to be included.

Ideas: Do you think any of the Academia girls ever shared a bed? Or maybe someone had a nightmare and needs cuddles after. Or maybe the mutual pining is just too intense when there's only one bed left at the hotel. Smutty interpretations welcome as well.

Sharing Food

Contrasting doesn't always have to be stark! I was thinking about what else could be shared aside from personal space and food came to mind almost straight away. Food is a lovely way to show you care.

Ideas: Do you think any of the XYZ decadents had to share food to survive? Or is there a character you just knows bakes the best homemade biscuits/cookies and could use that as a conduit to express a confession of a crush/love?

Routine

Ideas: Tell me about your ship's domesticity. Who struggles to get out of bed first thing in the morning? What do they eat for breakfast? Who reads the newspaper first? Or maybe routine more like a dance routine, a comedy routine, or something else entirely. Like does someone care wayyyyy too much about their hair care routine and gets into early relationship post-honeymoon phase scuffles about it, perhaps?

Unexpected

What happens when there's a sudden change to the dull, rote, and, well, routine? The unexpected of course. This was an obvious contrast in my mind that can hopefully provide some rising tension for your stories.

Ideas: A sudden death in the family. Elopement decided on the outcome of a card game. There are many ways to take the routine and break it (maybe even breaking a leg or two in the process). Did the proposal come as a surprise? Or maybe this could be a good day to break out some really eclectic, never met before, crossover pairings. Show me something very unexpected in character/ship chemistry hahaha

Sparkle & Shine

A prompt leftover from last year was - Glitter - and it made it very close to the final selections but I chose different prompts in lieu so again, it just felt right to at least use it as inspiration. Also because I misremembered the submission as Sparkle before double checking to see it was Glitter. My apologies Anon but you are here in spirit. I personally thought "Sparkle & Shine" rolled off the tongue better than Glitter alone and wanted some multi-word prompts to spice things up as well. And so Sparkle & Shine was ultimately selected.

Ideas: Sparkleshipping(Kisara/Mana)!! The prompt is practically named for them though I felt it was applicable to a few other ships, too. Alternatively, Glittershipping (Anzu/Kisara) given that "Glitter" was the original inspiration for this prompt. Give those girls some love if you are a DM enjoyer especially, I say. Or maybe a magical girl AU? Or maybe you want to delve into some meta behind why Lustershipping was chosen for Masumi/Yuzu. Or talk about the way Character A admires Character B's prowess in everything she does.

Murky & Unclear

Selected to complement Sparkle & Shine. Again, I chose it because I wanted a multi-word prompt to pair with its contrasting Day 4 prompt and

Could be a tricky prompt so good luck to anyone drawn to it but some ideas I had in mind included angsty tragedy fic or witchy AU's.

Before the Beginning

Basically a fancy way of saying "Pre-Canon". Was selected in mind with trying to parallel the original 2022 prompt set's ending prompts without just being a free-for-all free day in name.

Ideas: Are you absolutely convinced that even though these two female characters who have never met are exes with a viscious past? Yeah, me too. My personal ones are Ema/Queen, Asuka/Grace, Asuka/Gloria, and Himika/Yoko but maybe you have an entirely different relationship derailment in mind. Or maybe you want to explore how two girls who are friends in canon met and became friends (with a little inkling that maybe this friendship could become romance tinged with enough time)

After the End

And what pairs best with pre-canon? Why Post-Canon of course!

Ideas: Are there any loose ends that bother you? Here could be the perfect time and place to tie them up. Do you think the Bracelet Girls ever split from Yuzu again? What about Aqua returning to Aoi and/or Miyu? Or maybe you just think Characters A and B ride off into the sunset and get married ten or twenty or however many years down the line after the final credits rolled.

[fruit-sy]

OMORI SPOILERS

Song : "【Omori Song】 Endless by @OR3O ft. @Kuraiinu"

YT link : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVBbnJZjJ3s

Spotify link : https://open.spotify.com/user/khfje5c59z3ip8hq65302fqy8

Original game : "OMORI" by OMOCAT https://store.steampowered.com/app/1150690/OMORI/

Level editor from "Rhythm Doctor" by 7th Beat Games

https://store.steampowered.com/app/774181/Rhythm_Doctor/

None of the images used for backgrounds are mine (Except for that Blackspace image). Characters are from the game "OMORI", and their sprites in this level are made by me.

Under the cut is just my ramblings in the making of this WIP (Warning : LONG and rambly lol)

A project I hyperfixated on for a week before I dropped it and came back months later having no clue what I just did in the "coding" aspects of it lmao

I dropped it due to the fear of legal issues regarding the use of assets of the game/screenshots as the BG (I asked someone about it, and they said I should avoid using assets directly for the game and I backed off. Well, I still used the Otherworld sky and the Sunny's room, but I'm not distributing the level nor am I profiting off of it)

The Rhythm doctor community is one of the nicest, most welcoming community I've seen, and I honestly respect the amount of discipline it comes with custom levels and the permissions side of things. It takes a lot to get your work recognized somewhat in the non official custom levels community, and from what I saw in their discord, the quality control is pretty good.

This however *chuckles*... is probably not going to be on par, and won't be for a long time. I'm not sure if I'm even cuing things correctly, (People were appalled at one part of the beats I put lmao, I figured a lot of my other beats were probably "illegal" (meaning bad/unfair or not very fun to play) but I was too much of a wuss to ask for more feedback ;_;)

To make a decent level takes a lot of practice, and also decent knowledge of rhythm games and how Rhythm Doctor works as a game. But, as you've heard a million times, I had fun in my high.

Doing the sprites were pretty fun! Well, fun in the beginning when I thought about making this AwEsOmE level, fun in the end as I looked at the work I did, but absolutely hair pulling when I was actually doing it lmao.

The official guide was lacking in resources I needed to pump out these custom character sprites (I attempted to look into trying to code them in manually, matching it with the one on the guide, but as you may have guessed, I never got too far lol). The RD discord is a saint and sent a link to a convenient .json maker and many hours were spent on me messing up the sprite placement, constant revisioning of sprites because I missed a pixel or two like a dumbass, or I had a spontaneous idea and wanted to do some funky things with the sprites.

I used Aseprite's lite version and had to do some bizarre things to get around their "no export" limitations before I learned there was a way to make a free version of it.. somehow. Someone once again on Discord gave me a pretty in depth guide, but I've long since logged back on Discord again and it's probably burried under thousands of messages now. Thanks anyways guy.

Lore notes :

For any of you who's concerned as to why Omori is smiling, it's because I had a headcanon at the time that Omori was originally some sort of self insert/Mary sue character. Sunny hated his own identity, but he still wanted to escape back to his friends again, just with a different name, appearance, and personality.

Omori, Sunny's new identity felt elated at first in the dreamworld. But maybe Sunny regularly experienced breaches of Blackspace more often and was sometimes even stuck in it. He became more jaded as time went on, as more loops happened. He found that the best way he found to numb the pain was just burying it. Not acknowledging the darker parts of his mind when it's all locked away somewhere far away. Omori then sort of evolved as a concept, and what was once under Sunny's control turned into an uncontrollable impulse/habit to run away and bury his problems.

Why did Omori stab himself in the fear sequence and not in White Space? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I couldn't think of a better transition lol

Anyways, I was in love with Rhythm Doctor, both in its story and gameplay, and I was kinda obsessed with Omori too, so I attempted to mash 'em together and called it a day. It's got a lot of flaws, you might think it was a random as hell crossover (on brand as always lmao). Dunno if I'll ever pick it up again, but I think it's still an entertaining watch 👀

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 9: Closer

...in which Ezi has her first kiss.

Word count: 5.4k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: Please tell me what you think about the chapter! Reblog if you could :)

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“Do you know why there’s a true love’s kiss and not a true love’s hug?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? I was asking you.”

Harry sighed, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He had to keep his eyes on the road, but Ezi would keep distracting him with her shifting in her seat every two seconds and rambling on about silly topics he had no interest in. However, he’d promised to not be a dick whenever she talked to him, so he wouldn’t.

“Can’t you see that I’m driving?”

“So?” Ezi snorted. “Just answer the question.”

Harry sighed again. “I guess that’s because a kiss is more special than a hug...romantically.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Why not not? You’re just exchanging saliva.”

“It’s special if you’re exchanging saliva with someone you care about.”

Ezi still wasn’t satisfied with that explanation. “Okay, but what if the person won’t let you kiss them? How will you know if it’s true love?”

“If they don’t want to kiss you, it means they’re not interested, and therefore, it’s not true love,” Harry said. He couldn’t believe he was actually giving this some thought, but oh well, it was a long drive to the manor anyway. “For me at least,” he added, “true love must come from both sides.” Then he stole a glance at her and did a double-take. “Are you taking notes on your phone?”

Ezi flinched and put her phone into her bag right when she made eye contact with him. “No.”

“Liar. You were.”

“I’m learning to be human.”

“Just say you wanna kiss me.” Harry smirked. “We’re the only people here. This is a safe space.”

“It’s never a safe space when you’re in it,” Ezi said.

Harry’s eyebrows went high. “Excuse me? Yesterday you almost attacked a child for cutting the line in the supermarket.”

Ezi gave a firm nod without showing any remorse. “And the child would have deserved it. You, on the other hand, are deadly with your words.”

“How?!” cried Harry. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you ever since we started fake dating.”

Ezi rolled her eyes and checked her watch. “Yeah, your new record of being nice to me is two hours. Congrats.”

Harry exhaled, his shoulders slumped. “Okay, I think we should go over what to do when we see my mum, because if we act like this in front of her--”

“Why are we seeing your mother again?”

“Didn’t Jeff tell you?”

Ezi shook her head. She seemed quite confused, so Harry guessed Jeff had forgotten. To be honest, Harry found it funny and a little concerning that she had no idea why she was in the car after having been in the car for two hours. Someone could just kidnap her one day, and she wouldn’t even realise until they told her it was a kidnap. Or, maybe she just trusted him not to drive her to a government lab and donate her organs to science.

“Well, Jeff wants some new PR content of you hanging out with my family,” he told her.

“Why?” she asked, face scrunched up.

He lifted his shoulders. “To humanise you.”

“Good luck with that,” Ezi scoffed, rested her elbow on the window on her side and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “It takes a lot to humanise me.”

“Well, not literally. Just in the public eye, because a lot of people suspect that this is a PR relationship. We’ve only been seen together as friends or co-workers.”

“That’s not true. We’re not even friends.”

“Exactly!” Harry exclaimed. “So if we can convince my mother that we’re dating, we can convince the whole world. Trust me.”

Harry didn’t even exaggerate it; his mother could detect a lie from miles away. He could count the number of times he’d got away with a lie to her on one hand. However, he had never lied to her about being in a relationship. So hopefully, she’d be too happy with the thought of him not being a player like his dad to tell the whole thing was fake.

And so for the rest of the drive, he and Ezi tried acting out scenarios for when they met his mother again. They broke out laughing most of the time because Harry would say something too cheesy or Ezi would use some lines she’d learned from those Netflix originals that Harry had rated one star. Now that they were standing on the steps of the manor, they had to keep it together. Because no one would shout ‘cut!’ if they messed up their lines. This was almost like going in for a blind audition, and Harry knew his mother would be the toughest judge to impress.

“Harold!”

“Niall?” Harry’s eyes went wide when his best friend shoved the butler aside and embraced Harry at the door. Mikasa, Niall’s girlfriend, was standing right behind him, wearing a dark green satin dress that fell loosely to her knees. She gave Harry a lopsided smile, her black curls bouncing on her shoulders as she approached.

Harry hadn’t talked to her for weeks, but he assumed she already knew about Ezi. Hopefully just as much as his mother did. Unless Niall had broken the bro code and told Mikasa everything.

“Mimi, long time no see!” Harry said as he went in for a hug.

Mikasa eyed him up and down with her big smokey eyes. He always imagined those eyes having a special power that enabled her to stare right into his soul and read him like an unsealed letter. She was a psychiatrist and always making her friends feel like they were having a regular session in her office.

“So this is your girlfriend?” Mikasa asked, smiling at Ezi.

Harry’s gaze jumped to Niall, who subtly locked his lips with an invisible key and tossed it over his shoulder. Niall knew about the PR relationship, but Harry could always trust Niall not to tell anyone, even Mikasa. Especially Mikasa.

“Darling, you made it!” exclaimed Harry’s mother as she descended the stairs. Harry was just going in for a hug when he saw who were following behind her. And he froze.

Dawson and evil Aunt Beatrice. Dawson was wearing a simple black suit, completely made invisible by his mother in the tackiest neon orange sundress Harry had ever seen. He could hear his stylish crying just from seeing this outfit.

“What are they doing here, Mum?” Harry quietly asked his mother as they hugged.

His mother kissed his cheek and whispered back, “Since you invited Niall and Mikasa, I thought I should invite Dawson and his mother.”

“How is that the same thing?”

“Harry!” Aunt Beatrice said in her glass-breaking voice as she pulled him in for a suffocating bear hug. “Ah, you grew up so fast! I hardly recognise you!”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks, Aunt Beatrice.”

“I know, right? Kids these days.”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“Harry,” Harry’s mother reminded him, so Harry took a deep breath and went to stand beside Ezi. She looked at him like a deer in front of headlights. This couldn’t be good. His family must be overwhelming for her.

“Hey, Ezili!” Dawson waved at her with a smile, and suddenly, her face brightened, and she enthusiastically waved back. Traitorous little fish, Harry thought as he watched the two greet one another.

“Congratulations, you two,” Dawson said.

Ezi opened her mouth to reply when Harry threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her back to his side. He gave Dawson the best grin he could fake. “Thanks,” was all he said.

“Picture, everyone!” Niall interrupted the awkward interaction and pulled out his phone.

Everyone gathered together, and Niall winked at Harry. “Now, Mother Styles, could you stand closer to Ezili? Closer! Thanks. There we go. Looks like Ezili’s a part of the family.”

Once the picture was taken, he nudged Harry with his shoulder. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

Harry patted him on the back. “Send it to Jeff for me.”

“Boys, are you coming?” asked Mikasa, who was walking ahead, holding Ezi’s hand.

“Coming, lovebug!” Niall shouted at her and told Harry. “See? She likes Ezili.”

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“So what do you do for a living?” was the first question Harry’s mother asked Ezili when they sat down at the lunch table. They were eating in a glass house in the flower garden by the lake. There were people dressed in uniforms serving them tea and appetizers, and Ezili felt like she was Alice having tea with the Queen of Hearts and her courtiers in Wonderland.

“I work at a bookstore,” she said when one of the maids filled her cup with Jasmine tea.

She didn’t understand Harry’s mother’s appalled reaction and why Harry had to add, “Ezi owns a bookstore.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Harry’s mother said, sounding strangely relieved.

Irritated, Ezili leaned in and whispered to Harry, “Why did you lie?”

But he didn’t answer and only shushed her before smiling at his mother again.

“Can’t believe I get to live to see Harry bring home a young lady!” said Aunt Beatrice. Dawson opened his mouth to interject, but she didn’t give him a chance, “I always thought you were gay!”

At that, Niall choked on his tea, and Mikasa had to rub his back as he coughed violently into his fist. Ezili knew what gay meant, but why was it a bad thing?

“What if I were?” Harry asked his aunt. “I don’t see the problem with me being gay, which I’m not.”

“These biscuits are so nice, Aunt Annalise,” Dawson told Harry’s mother, probably trying to save the conversation from turning into a fight. But it seemed like Dawson’s mother was out for blood this morning.

“Harry,” Aunt Beatrice started again, and Ezili saw Mikasa and Niall sink into their chairs. “You’re a celebrity and the heir to this manor and your father's business. It’s so...unexpected of you to be dating some girl who works in a bookstore.”

Ezili wasn’t dumb. She might not understand a lot of things humans said, but she knew sarcasm like her mother tongue. It was her time to say something.

“What’s wrong with working in a bookstore?” she asked, making direct eye contact with Aunt Beatrice, who was shocked by the question. Everyone at the table seemed to be holding their breath.

“How much could you possibly do and make by owning a bookstore these days?” Aunt Beatrice laughed.

Ezili smirked and shook her head. “You could do and make a lot if you knew how to read.”

Harry kicked Ezili’s foot under the table, but she didn’t pay him a single glance. She believed she’d said nothing wrong at all. It was only the truth. Because why look down on people who worked at a bookstore unless you hated books because you couldn’t read?

Seeing his mother’s face turning red, Dawson burst out laughing. “Oh my God, she’s so funny!” Mikasa and Niall started laughing, too, and Harry’s mother awkwardly joined in.

“That’s what they call dark humour, Aunt Beatrice,” Niall told the angry giant lady. “Ezi’s a true Gen Z. She’s all jokes.”

Aunt Beatrice said nothing else. She shot a glare at a smiling Ezili and lifted her cup to take a sip.

“Oh, there’s my new cook!” said Harry’s mother as she waved at the door. “This is Dolores' first day at work. Come say hello, Dolores dear.”

“Good morning. I hope everyone’s having a wonderful time.”

Ezili’s entire body went stiff. Her eyes almost popped out of her head and dropped onto the plate in front of her. She knew that voice. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage as she held her breath. She felt the person’s presence beside her heavy like a weight ready to crush her bones into dust. Out of the corner of her eyes, she looked up.

Her sister Koa was grinning down at her.

“Ezili, are you okay?” Dawson asked, snapping Ezili out of her numbness.

Koa’s devilish grin remained as she circled the table after wishing everyone a pleasant meal, then disappeared out of the entrance.

Why was she here? Why did she have legs? How had she found Ezili?

“Okay, let's get straight to the point,” Aunt Beatrice started again, and everyone groaned at once. “How much did he pay you?”

“Mum!” cried Dawson.

“Excuse me?” Harry arched an eyebrow.

“It’s PR, isn’t it?” Aunt Beatrice said to him. Ezili was having a hard time paying attention to the argument while her heart was still pounding in her head. Her sister was here, either for her, or after her.

“You can’t do that to your mother, Harry,” Dawson’s mother went on. “She might be easily fooled but I’m not.”

“We should’ve gone for mini-golf,” Mikasa muttered to Niall, who exhaled into his hand.

Harry turned to his mother. “You’re just gonna let her disrespect my girlfriend like that?”

His mother opened her mouth to speak, but his aunt was faster. “If she’s your girlfriend then kiss her.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Harry scoffed and threw his hands in the air.

Ezili immediately stood up. All eyes fell on her.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice trembling. “I must go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll take you--”

“No, Harry, you stay.”

Harry slowly sat back down as Ezili pushed her chair out and headed straight for the door. Thankfully, he didn’t follow her.

She crossed the garden and asked one of the employees where the kitchen was. As it turned out, they had a separate kitchen for when they served food in the glasshouse. Ezili couldn’t see the point of having more than one kitchen, but this was no time to question it.

When she found Koa, no one else was there but them. It seemed as if Koa had known Ezili would follow her here, so she’d asked everyone else to leave.

Ezili stood at the door while her sister stood by the counter with her back turned to Ezili. The first thing Ezili noticed was the knives within Koa’s reach. Ezili must be wise when confronting her sister.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Koa in Séren.

Koa slowly turned and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I’m a cook. Can't you see?”

“How did you find me?”

The corner of Koa’s lips curled as she unbuttoned the collar of her white shirt and revealed a gold necklace. Ezili sucked in a breath when she saw the shiny trident-shaped medallion on her sister’s chest.

“Is that--”

“Mother’s trident,” Koa sneered. “Yes, it is.” Then she buttoned up her shirt to cover it. “Now we can see who mother trusts more.”

“Why--”

“Aunt Nerissa came for a visit last week,” Koa said. Ezili knew that name could never be associated with anything good. “Mother doesn’t trust her, so she asked me to go on land to find you, but also to keep the trident away from Nerissa’s clutches.”

Ezili swallowed hard, her fists tightly glued to her sides. “What happened to the cook?”

Koa clicked her tongue. “She’s swimming with fishes now. Like the ones swimming in her pot just then.”

“You drowned her?!”

“In the lake.”

Ezili gripped her head and advanced towards Koa. “How many humans have you killed?”

Koa chuckled and took a few steps forward until she was dangerously close enough to hurt Ezili. She stood with her back straight and arms folded, her silver eyes flickering in the sunlight. “The important question is…” She stared Ezili down. “How many have you killed?” Ezili bit her lip when Koa poked her chest with her long nail. “Or are you too busy dating now? People are talking about it everywhere.” Ezili said nothing, so Koa went on, “It’s a fake relationship, isn’t it?” She leaned in, taunting. “Come on, Sister. Admit that you’ve failed. That you can’t make the human fall in love with you. Why so quiet? Is it because if you admit it, you’re an embarrassment and you lose the trident to me, and if you deny it, then it means you’re becoming way too human to kill him.”

At that, Ezili shoved Koa away and stabbed a finger at her. “Leave me alone. Mother gave me a year for this mission.”

“We won’t have that much time, stupid,” Koa snorted. “Narissa is onto something. The queendom is already in danger as we’re speaking. And you’re here having...brunch?” She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Pathetic.”

“Ezi?”

Both of them whipped their heads around and saw Harry, who stiffened in the doorway.

“Ezi?” Koa cackled, hugging her stomach. “Is that your human name? Are you his pet now?”

Though confused, Harry stepped into the kitchen anyway. “Ezi, you’re alright?”

“Harry, watch out!” Ezili shouted, but Koa was already on top of Harry on the floor. She sank her fangs into Harry’s arm with the rolled-up sleeve. Harry yelped in pain as Ezili dragged her sister off of him and slammed Koa’s head against the table. Hissing, Koa grabbed a knife on the counter and aimed it at Ezili, but Ezili was fast enough to kick it out of her sister’s grip and sent one more kick into Koa’s stomach. Koa was stronger than Ezili had thought as she plunged at Ezili again.

“Harry, run!”

But Harry didn’t run. He was back on his feet, grabbed a vase and smashed it onto Koa’s back. “Do not hurt my fake girlfriend!”

Koa rolled off of Ezili. The last thing Ezili could see was her sister’s bloodied face as she stumbled towards the door and ran off into the light.

Ezili lay there until her vision cleared again, and Harry helped her back to her feet.

“What the fuck?!” he yelled. “Who the fuck was she?!”

“My sister,” Ezili said, still holding her aching head.

“The one who tried to drown me? Why is she here?”

“To kill me, I think.”

“Why?”

“Harry--”

But Harry wasn’t listening. He was pacing back and forth like a mad man. “This isn’t good, Ezi. This is bad! Your crazy sister is gonna expose us!”

“Expose us?” Ezili grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. “She almost killed you.”

It seemed as if Harry had forgotten that his arm was bleeding until Ezili had brought it up. He suddenly winced and fell into a chair.

Ezili scanned her eyes around the messy kitchen, panting as she tried to make sure that Koa had escaped. Then, she got down on her knees beside Harry and reached for his wounded arm.

He stared down at her in confusion, then his expression turned horrified when she leaned in.

“What the fuck?!” he hissed and yanked his arm away.

She glared up at him in annoyance. “Let me help!”

“Hell no! You’re not gonna lick my blood.”

“You need to clean the wound!”

“With water! Not by sucking it!”

Ezili huffed and aggressively got up while silently cursing Harry in Séren.

“There’s a--” His voice cut off when she tore off a piece of her dress “--towel over there,” he trailed off. She ignored him and went to the sink to soak the piece of fabric in water. He shook his head and blew up his cheeks. “Nevermind. You do you.”

Still glaring at him when she returned, Ezili got back down on her knees and started cleaning Harry’s arm. The place her sister had sunk her fangs into had turned dark red. It would definitely leave a huge bruise tomorrow.

“Lucky for you Koa was distracted and didn’t aim to bite your whole arm off,” Ezili whispered and glanced up, meeting Harry’s gaze. “You sure you don’t want me to lick your wound?”

“Well, now that you’re already in this position, you could just lick something else,” he chuckled.

Ezili’s eyes narrowed. “Like what?”

To her confusion, Harry covered his face and shook with laughter. “Sorry, that was a dumb joke. I just couldn’t help it.”

“I didn’t get it.”

“Yeah, that’s how a joke loses its funny,” he sighed then snapped his fingers. “Ooh, maybe I should just pretend that I don’t understand whenever someone tells me a joke, so that they gradually lose their funny.”

“That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard,” Ezili remarked.

“What do you mean?” Harry pouted. “I don’t get it, babe.”

Ezili rolled her eyes at his childishness, still, she couldn’t help but smile a little.

Once she had wrapped the piece of her dress securely around his arm, Harry pulled down the sleeve to cover it as he got to his feet. “That should do. Let’s hope my mother won’t suspect that we just got attacked in her kitchen by her cook, who was your evil siren sister in disguise. Damn, that sounds crazy even for me.”

Ezili stood with her arms crossed. “Do you think your mother can tell we’re not really dating?”

“Nah, my mother totally believes it.” Harry shrugged. “Honestly, I think we’re doing a great job pretending we’re in love when we can’t even have a conversation without insulting each other.”

“I don’t get paid enough to call you babe so many times.”

“Neither do I. This PR relationship is harder than I tho--”

Harry’s sentence got cut off by a sound at the door. When they both turned to it, Dawson was standing there, his eyes wide with shock.

Ezili was hoping that was the reaction to the messy kitchen and not to what she and Harry had said. However, luck wasn’t smiling at her tonight. Dawson’s appalled gaze jumped from Harry to Ezili. “What do you mean by ‘PR relationship’?”

.

.

.

“I can explain,” Ezi said, reaching for Dawson, but he backed away while staring at both her and Harry in disbelief. Harry believed Dawson wasn’t shocked that Harry could pull something like this, because Harry hadn’t been exactly the good kid growing up. What Dawson hadn’t expected was Ezi being part of this plan. Ezi must be an angel in Dawson’s eyes.

“So my mother was right,” Dawson said, flicking his finger between Harry and Ezi. “You were lying to everyone.”

“Dawson--” Ezi began, but Harry pulled her back by her wrist.

“Please don’t tell my mother,” he told Dawson and received stunned looks from both Dawson and Ezi. They probably hadn’t expected that coming from him. “This means a lot to her, and I don’t want her to be any more let down,” Harry continued. “Also, Ezi needs money, and I’m just trying to help. She’s also writing the next album with me, so it’s all good business.”

Dawson peered at both their faces for a long moment as if he was psychoanalysing each of them. Then, he breathed, “So you two don't have feelings for each other?”

“No.” Ezi shook her head fast and tugged at Harry’s sleeve. “Harry, tell him.”

Harry opened his mouth. Suddenly, he thought about how frightened he’d been when he’d thought Ezi’s sister was going to kill her. He could’ve run off and let her deal with it alone since he hadn’t asked to be part of her family drama, and he wasn’t brave, either. Nevertheless, he’d jumped in to help her.

“No,” he said, only to realise he shouldn’t have taken such a long pause to say only one word.

“See?” Ezi smiled at Dawson, who seemed less sceptical now.

“Okay,” Dawson said, his face relaxed as he put his hands on his hips. “Who else knows? Niall and Mikasa?”

“Mikasa doesn’t know,” Harry said. “Only Niall.”

“Alright.” Dawson nodded and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But you guys are really bad at pretending to be in love,” he told them after another moment. “I’ll try to tell my mum to stop being rude to you. But just to be safe, you should make it more convincing.”

Ezi heaved a sigh of relief and placed her hand on Dawson’s arm. Harry swore he saw Dawson hold his breath as if Ezi had the Midas touch, and Harry had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“Thank you, Dawson,” Ezi said in the softest tone Harry had ever heard.

“Your dress,” Dawson pointed out while eyeing her and then the kitchen. “What...what happened here?”

“There was a rat,” Harry blurted.

Ezi joined in, “Harry tried to kill it then it knocked over the vase, and I fell and pulled him down with me and ripped my dress on the glass.”

Dawson furrowed his brows as he nodded at the piece of Ezi’s dress in her fist. “That’s your blood?”

Ezi shook her head. “It��s the rat’s.” Then, she looked over at Harry, suppressing a grin. He stayed quiet and glared at her.

“Oh, God. That’s disgusting,” Dawson made a face. “Need me to help you clean up?”

“No, I’ll take care of it,” Harry said. “I’ll take Ezi upstairs to clean up. Could you distract everyone for a while?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dawson nodded, gave Ezi a tight-lipped smile and turned to the door. “Now, where the hell is the cook?”

.

.

.

Harry could hear every single word of the Jonas Brothers song playing downstairs. It seemed like everyone had finished brunch without him and Ezi, and now Niall was turning the manor into a concert. Niall and Mikasa had met at a Jonas Brothers’ concert years ago, and they would not let people forget about it. What they had was cute, but Harry could not imagine being with someone for that long. A PR relationship was tiring enough; he didn’t think he could ever handle a real one.

Back against the wall, he stared at his watch and tapped his foot impatiently before he came to knock on the door to his mother’s walk-in closet. “Ezi, are you done?”

“I don’t know how to put this on!”

Harry tossed his head back and groaned. “Do you need help?”

“Yeah!”

“Goddamn it,” he muttered under his breath. “Cover yourself. I’m coming in.”

Just to be safe, he had his hand over his eyes when he opened the door.

You'll say my name like it's been on your lips

Familiar in ways I can't explain

You got a heart that I know I can miss

Hold me like that and pull me right back again

The music outside became muffled. Harry peeked through the gap between his fingers, and nearly had a heart attack when he saw Ezi standing there topless with only jeans on. “I told you to cover yourself!”

“Oh, please, there’s nothing you haven’t seen.”

“It’s different every time.”

“How? I’ve only got one body.”

“No, seeing you feels different every time. It’s weird.”

Time stands still and it's only us

What we feel started way before we ever touched

Just imagine only us

Yeah, you found me right before I'd given up

Ezi said nothing, and Harry lowered his hand, feeling glad that she was facing away from him now. She looked over her shoulder, frowning. “Help me with this shirt!”

He ruffled his hair and padded over to take the shirt from her hand. “You got the button stuck?! This is my mother’s favourite Chanel shirt!”

“It was like that when I found it.”

“Liar.” Harry shook his head and started examining the stuck button. Ezi turned around, hugging her chest so her breasts weren’t exposed to him. He was trying his best not to look. Maybe he shouldn’t have put her in a dress that didn’t require a bra. He guessed he’d played himself.

“Harry.”

“Damn, maybe I should get you another shirt and buy a new one for my mum. I don't know how to fix this.”

“Harry,” Ezi repeated and tapped Harry on the arm. He looked up, face heating when he saw her.

I just saw the lightning strike

Knew it right then when I looked in your eyes

And I said to myself, "It's no surprise we ain't strangers"

Strangers tonight

Still, he acted indifferent. “What?”

“I think we should kiss,” she said, making him flinch.

“Why?” He was already sweating through his palms. His mother’s shirt could no longer be saved now.

“To make it more convincing,” Ezi said as if them kissing wasn’t a big deal to her. “Maybe if there’s a picture of us kissing--”

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

She froze at the question and blinked at him.

I came here looking for another excuse

To run away from something beautiful

It's like it's driving me closer to you

Every step back pulls me right back

At this question, Ezi’s whole life up until that point flashed before her eyes. She had lost count of all the times she’d kissed sailors before drowning them. But she wasn’t going to kiss Harry to kill him. Not yet at least. He would still be there, alive, when she opened her eyes. He would still be aware of her lips against his. And she would, too.

“No,” she lied.

And he believed it. He cleared his throat. Suddenly, her standing there topless wasn’t weird anymore. “Okay, it’s pretty easy.” He put the shirt aside. His fingers were shaking so he opened and closed his fists a few times before beckoning her over. “Come here.”

She took a step forward.

“Closer.”

Another step.

Harry’s face reddened with a small smile. “Ezi, closer.”

He’d never talked to her in that tone before. It was soft and firm at the same time, and she completely forgot having sworn to herself that she would never let him tell her what to do. She came so close she could not tell his breath from her own. His eyelids fluttered, and his pink lips parted, yet no word escaped. Then, he leaned in.

Must be from a different life

Been here before and it just feels right

No, this ain't the first time for you and I, we ain't strangers

Strangers tonight

But it was her who took his face between her hands and kissed him first. He froze for a second, then started kissing her back, his arms circled around her waist, pressing her against him.

Harry’s entire body grew hot. The voice inside his head told him to stop, but it only made him bolder. He liked that she’d taken charge. Her hands were under his shirt as his roamed across her naked back. His eyes went wide when she unconsciously let out a moan.

Strangers

Strangers

Strangers tonight

“Ezi,” he breathed against her lips. But before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door.

“Harry, are you in there?”

Ezi pulled away as Harry threw his head back and exhaled harshly. “Yes, Niall?”

“Is Ezili there with you?”

“Yes,” Harry answered in a croaked voice and quickly cleared his throat. “Yes,” he repeated, sounding more stable. “Why?”

“You missed all the fun stuff. Your mother scolded your aunt for what she’d said to you and Ezi, and Dawson had to take his mother’s home.”

Harry looked over at Ezi, expecting her to be thrilled by the good news, but she only gave a small smile, her arms still tightly wrapped around herself to cover her breasts. Was she...shy?

Yes, yes she was. Ezi didn’t think she could ever be shy. But here she stood, blushing all over from a stupid kiss.

“Are they in there?” Harry’s mother’s voice outside the door made Harry and Ezi jump.

They looked at each other, scared when Niall told Harry’s mum that they were in the closet together.

“Not in my closet, Harry!”

“I’m just helping Ezi get changed, Mum!”

“You better!”

And then their footsteps faded down the hallway, along with his mother’s laughter.

Ezi and Harry made eye contact with each other and looked away at the same time as silence ensued. Suddenly, Harry started sniffing.

“What is it?” Ezi asked, worried.

Harry leaned in and started sniffing her neck, and she pushed him away. “What the hell?!”

“You smell.”

“Excuse me?!”

“No.” Harry shook his head fast. “You smell good. But..you didn’t have a smell before.”

Ezi quickly lifted her arm to smell herself. “I smell nothing.”

“That’s because it’s your own smell, so you don't recognise it. But--” Harry cut off midsentence and picked up a strand of her hair and brought his nose to it. Then, his lips curled. “Aww, my kiss turned you a little more human.”

“Shut up!” Ezi shoved at his chest. “I’m not turning more human! That’s not true!”

“It is true! Kiss me again. I’ll prove it.”

She said nothing, only glared at him as he burst out laughing and tossed her a t-shirt.

[thosewickedlovelies]

AND THEY WERE WALLMATES: Cookies (part 2)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: T for mature themes (implications of sexy times and violence). It will go up later ;)

Summary: You share an apartment wall with Javier Peña, but that doesn’t make it any easier to get to know him. You didn’t think your baking would be the catalyst.

Javi and Reader continue to get to know each other.

Tags: Mention of blood, super vague description of wound care. Additional TW for Javi: the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known.

Word Count: 3,484

A/N: I was NOT expecting the amount of enthusiasm I got for the first chapter, but I’m so grateful for it!! I struggled a little bit with this chapter because it was the only one I didn’t have a solid plan for lol, but here it is because I’m impatient to share (and also tired of looking at it). I promise the next few will be better ;)

Masterlist

---

The next evening, you give yourself a stern pep talk before going to knock on Javier’s door. Javi, you remind yourself. You’re here to check on his leg, assuming he needs you to.

The door swings open much more readily than it had the night before, and Javier appears, an expectant half-smile curling the corner of his mouth. “Neighbor,” he drawls. Despite the new air of informality about him, his eyes hold a familiar suggestion that makes your heart sink a little. Back to his customary flirting, then.

“Hi, Javier,” you say, more coolly than you had originally planned. “I came over to see if you wanted me to check on your leg. I just kind of assumed that you would have the right supplies and stuff when I was giving you instructions last night, but if you don’t I can give you some, change the bandage for you. The first few days of healing are the most critical,” you explain, willing yourself to cut off your own rambling.

He examines your face for a second, the ready welcome fading. “Why do I get the feeling this check-up is more for you than for me?” He hitches an amused eyebrow back up, stepping back to let you in.

Over the threshold you cross your arms. “I don’t know, did you want your secret stab wound to get infected?”

He puts his hand on his hips with the beginning of a disbelieving frown. “It wasn’t a stab,” he grumbles defensively, with all the dignity of a petulant child.

You roll your eyes at his assertive posturing. “I know. I examined it.” Javier doesn’t move, though it couldn’t be comfortable maintaining such a wide-legged stance in those tight jeans. Your lips twitch the slightest bit as you take in your normally composed neighbor, his conflicted moue suggesting he’s been thrown off.

Taking pity on him, you borrow a page from his communication manual, nodding to a chair. “Come on. Pants off,” you deadpan, letting just a hint of your amusement show.

His expression starts out relieved, then cycles through several emotions in the space of the next second (albeit extremely subtly). He seems to freeze momentarily. “Uh, if you’ll just excuse me for one second, I’ll have these off for you in no time.” He winks, which would be charming if it weren’t Javier and he didn’t look like he had forgotten something important, and hastily strides toward the bedrooms.

Mystified, you look around, curious about the man despite his unpredictable demeanor. The apartment looks comfortably lived-in, yet there’s a distinct lack of personal effects, creating an odd contrast. There’s an empty takeout container by the sink, but you aren’t fooled by that- very occasionally, you’ve smelled amazing things coming from this kitchen. You wonder what sparks his culinary inspiration.

A throat clears behind you and you jump. You hadn’t heard Javi return, but there he stands by the dining room table, the fly of his jeans already gaping. He quirks a brow at you. “See anything interesting?” he asks, tipping his head to indicate the apartment. Apparently at ease, he begins to remove his jeans, and you avert your gaze, a flush creeping up your neck.

What? You saw people in all states of nudity every day at the hospital; why should you be flustered now? Annoyed, you busy yourself sorting through supplies while he sits down,

though not before he pulls out a chair for you.

Just like the previous night, he waits until you’re almost finished working to speak. “How did you know I was in pain last night? I didn’t think I made much noise.” His eyes are narrowed, like it’s something that’s been bothering him.

You reflect on your answer before giving it. “You...moved like you were in pain. Slowly, shuffling. And...you made a noise once you closed the door. I heard it, you know, through the wall.” You admit the last part with your eyes down, focusing on adhering tape to his skin.

“Through the wall, huh.” Something in Javier’s husky voice makes you glance up. He looks contemplative, dark eyes studying you thoughtfully. He angles his head down toward you. “What else do you hear through the wall?”

You’ve walked into a trap of your own making. Those daring insinuations are back in his eyes, but you can’t escape to your apartment in the middle of changing a bandage. So you answer truthfully: “I hear you cook sometimes. Smell you cook sometimes,” you correct yourself brightly. “What do you make that always smells so good, Javier?” You meet his gaze with deliberate innocence, although you would genuinely like to know.

His expression shutters, and he leans back in the chair again. “Food,” he mutters. “Stuff I learned a long time ago.”

An unexpectedly real answer; you quash the intense curiosity it provokes. Not wanting to pry too much, too soon, you just snicker in response. “Food, huh? I think I’ve heard of that.” His attention snaps back to you, but you just let him brood as you finish with his leg.

This time when you stand, you linger over your supplies, leaving some out for him and explaining things to watch out for. “I’ll come by again tomorrow night, but it should be fine as long as you don’t aggravate it,” you conclude. 

“Well, non-aggravating is my middle name.” Javier gives you a winning smile, one that probably would have passed the muster of anyone who hadn’t heard the mocking edge in his voice.

A laugh sputters out of you. “Is that so? I’ll be sure to tell Connie next time I’m over there.”

Something like fascination sparks in his eyes, a hunger he can’t hide propelling him to lean forward. “Oh? You two ladies talk about me?” 

Your lips purse as your mind races through suitable responses. “Well, I had to get the dirt on my mysterious neighbor from somewhere,” you say lightly. Because it sure wasn’t coming from him. Yet the longer you spent in his company, the more you found you wanted to know.

“Hm.” A huff is his only response. His shoulders relax against the chair back as he returns to regarding you wordlessly, but in a distinctly more agreeable way.

You suppress a smile as you pick up your bag. “Well. Goodnight, Javi.”

--

Almost a week after your last checkup, Javier grinds his cigarette butt into the ground and flicks a last glance at your window. He and Steve had arrived home at the same time, so he’d stalled with the excuse of a smoke outside, knowing that if he entered his own apartment, he’d lose his nerve. Gritting his teeth, he limps up the stairs and to your door. He knocks.

The noise of the tv cuts off, and a moment later, you open the door. You blink in surprise. “Javi! What are you doing here?” Concern clouds your face as you take in his rumpled appearance.

The words lodge in his throat. “I, uh. I need your help,” he admits, dragging his gaze up from the floor. “Banged my leg at work today. Think I opened it up again...thought I should let you take a look at it.” He couldn’t stop imagining your reaction if you found out he hadn’t.

Your eyes widen, and you immediately step back to let him in. “Of course! Please, here-” You offer your arm, but Javier has enough pride this time to make it to your dining room table without help. When he looks up you’ve vanished, dashed off to your stash of medical supplies, he assumes.

He takes the opportunity to look around. Your place is cute, homey-feeling, because of course it is. He notes, however, that most of the decoration has been locally bought, and curiosity needles at him. Nothing more personal to bring with you? He gets a fleeting glimpse of the bottle of wine on the coffee table before you return.

“...sorry about that, I don’t know why I stashed this away so well when I knew you might need it again.” Your setup is a familiar scene by now. You keep glancing over at his blood-stained bandage, frowning worriedly, and he wonders how you can be so damn caring when it’s clear he’s interrupted your evening.

He makes a sound of disgust. “Nah, this was a stupid accident,” he says, annoyed all over again. “Normal, routine chase after some narco, but I slid against a wall that had some shit sticking out of it at just the wrong spot.”

Your eyes leap to his in shock, and too late he remembers that Connie gave you the ‘janitorial services’ line. You don’t ask though, pressing your lips together and determinedly refocusing on peeling off the bandage, and Javi can’t help but feel a twinge of respect.

Well, someone in the building would tell you sooner or later. “I’m an agent of the DEA,” he says, monitoring your reaction. “Since you were about to ask.”

You straighten indignantly. “I was not!” you protest, before you see the lazy gleam in his eye and realize he’s joking. You roll your eyes reproachfully, but the press of your lips now looks amused. “I just thought there was probably a reason Connie didn’t tell me.” Javier winces as you gently prod at his injury.

“Well, what’s one more secret between neighbors?” He winks conspiratorially at you. Just like the last time, however, it gets minimal reaction, and it confounds and intrigues him in equal measure. Women usually respond to his efforts. Even if there’s no real intention, he likes seeing them get a little flustered, likes the feeling of having influence, control. And women don’t seem to mind.

But you...you resisted. Javier doesn’t know why, but you don’t react to his usual charm in the ways he’d come to expect. He’s sure you don’t dislike him- but he’s not exactly sure what he’s doing to make you like him, either. There was something...enticing about it.

The familiar feeling of your fingers smoothing tape along his thigh brings him back to the present. He tries not pay too much attention to it, knowing that it would be extremely asshole timing to pop a boner.

“Well, you should be all set. Again.” You look sympathetic, not resentful, and Javier nods, suddenly feeling awkward. How could he possibly make up all of this up to you?

“Just- try to be careful, okay? You don’t have to hurt yourself as an excuse to hang out with me.” Out of nowhere you’re teasing him, with a line to rival some of his worst. His eyebrows raise, and he chuckles as he dips his head.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He gets to his feet. “...Thank you,” he says gruffly, hoping he’s conveying even a tiny amount of how much he means it. “Enjoy your evening.” He doesn’t let himself look back as he heads for the door.

--

Steve and Connie have invited you to a movie night. Or at least, Connie has. You assume the invite comes from both of them, even if a movie night doesn’t seem like something Steve would initiate.

“Javi will be there too,” Connie had informed you nonchalantly, but she watched intently for your reaction.

You hadn’t even blinked. “Great!” you said easily- until you realized the opportunity this presented and beamed. “What should I make?”

Which is how you end up standing outside her door, one floor up, holding a plate of cookies. You were glad now that you decided to make them today and not yesterday- finishing them barely 20 minutes ago had effectively given you no time to tailspin about what to wear or how you were supposed to act around Javi. Or rather, Javi and Steve and Connie, since although you and Javi had a secret, it was not what they’d imagine it to be.

Connie answers the door, and that’s definitely not a twinge of disappointment you feel, because why would Javier have answered the door of someone else’s house?

“Hey, come in!” Connie gushes. She waggles her eyebrows meaningfully at the plate in your hands. “What are those, and what are you drinking with them?”

Her easy familiarity grounds you. “Whatever you’ve got,” you reply, some of your nerves settling. Your friend leads you to the kitchen, where Steve and Javi stand continuing some conversation at the bar counter.

“The party has arrived, boys!” She announces. “I told you all that smell was for us.” She winks at you, a bottle already in hand to pour you a drink.

“Welcome, welcome,” Steve greets in his easygoing way, gesturing with his beer to encompass the apartment as a whole.

You smile in thanks, your eyes flitting briefly to Javier. He hasn’t said anything yet, but there’s a loose relaxation to him you haven’t seen before, a softness playing on his lips as he absorbs the scene. It’s similar, you realize, to the moment when he complimented your lemon cake, the first time you felt like you were meeting the real him.

This observation only takes a heartbeat to sink in. Tucking it away to examine later, you shyly lift the plate and set it in the middle of everyone. “She‘s right,” you confirm, peeling off the plastic wrap. “Peanut butter cookies.” The next few seconds are spent in an expectant semi-quiet as everyone takes a cookie and savors the first bite.

“Mmm,” someone sighs, and the dam breaks. A flurry of compliments all around, new threads of conversation bursting forth. You absorb it gratefully, relieved at their enthusiastic response and happy to have been able to contribute. You try not to react to Javier’s eyes on you.

The ice broken, you all chat and drink around the bar for a bit, before Connie declares that it’s movie time, leading everyone to the living room. Before following them, Javier grabs the plate of cookies. “We’ll just take these with us,” he says decisively, and you take it as a compliment.

It’s the first time he’s addressed you directly since you arrived, and there’s a knowing glint in his eye. “By all means,” you respond pleasantly, meeting his gaze. Taking your tenuous first step in sharing the establishment of a public-facing persona to your relationship (such that it is).

In your delay, Connie and Steve appear to have gotten into a hissed discussion, standing between the couch and the loveseat. Connie whirls around as you and Javi approach, fixing a smile to her face. She waves you over to the smaller sofa. “Come on, we get to snuggle up on the loveseat, so the big men have more room to spread out.” She aims a cool faux-glare at her husband, but a glimmer of real frustration prevents it from being believably fake.

Steve sends Javi a long-suffering, apologetic look. “Sounds cozy,” you chirp, mediating before anyone else can say anything. “So what are we watching?”

At this, Steve’s face lights up with a grin that almost makes you wary. He takes great delight in announcing the selection, some military action flick with “enough drama and hunky actors to keep the ladies entertained as well,” apparently.

“A true classic.” Javier nods sagely from his sprawled seat on the couch, his smirking grin suggesting that it was not at all true. Steve kneels to put the tape in, and as he and Javi continue to snigger over it, Javi shoots a self-conscious glance in your direction, his posture shifting.

Connie sighs. “They’ve done a few of these now. I should warn you that it’s less about watching the movie than it is about bonding over making fun of it,” she confides.

You keep the two men in the corner of your vision as you turn to reply to your friend, feeling warm with gratitude at being included. “That’s okay,” you assure her. “It’s a good bonding activity.”

Connie smiles, but seems distracted. She lowers her voice to speak again. “I should also tell you that they make fun of it because they know how government/military stuff really works. From their job at the embassy.” She seems unsure if she should say any more.

“Oh!” You realize that Connie has no way of knowing about your conversations with Javi. “I know. I mean, Javier told me. What they do.” 

Connie looks amazed. “Javier told you? When?” Her voice drops to just above a whisper.

“Recently,” you hedge. “I was, um, helping him with something, and it slipped out.” No point in getting him in trouble. 

Connie looks ready to burst, but before she can say anything the tv blares, and Steve pointedly declares that it’s starting.

You settle in for the mock-fest, and sure enough, the men don’t disappoint. It’s hard to follow what’s actually going on through their exasperated groaning, but you don’t mind. Their back-and-forth is just as entertaining, and you even manage to join in occasionally during the medical scenes.

Throughout it all, you surreptitiously watch Javier. His opening up is a slow-building thing, like he can’t decide how much of himself to reveal. He steals frequent glances at you, as if trying to judge what you’re thinking of him in this new context. But he can’t pretend to be his usual lascivious self in front of Steve and Connie, and all at once he seems to decide to just be, and damned if you don’t like it.

You don’t let on that you’ve been paying such attention, only teasing and acting like you normally would around friends. But you can’t help but respond to the way Javi’s eyes crinkle when he smiles; to the hard-won sound of his laugh, sending pleasant tingles down your spine. With other things for him to focus on besides you, you’re able to observe him more freely, noticing things you hadn’t before.

When the movie finally ends, you and Javier stand to leave, managing to only after Connie extracts ironclad promises from the both of you to do this again. The tentative banter you’d fallen into in the apartment carries you down the stairs; it felt rather like you were still creating the steps to a dance in which you weren’t quite sure if you were competitors or partners.

He walks you to your door. “It’s like eight steps down the hall, Javier.” It’s sweet, despite your objection.

“A lot can happen in eight steps,” he counters, undeterred.

At the door, he murmurs your name. You look at him in surprise when he takes your hand, even as your body sings from the warmth of his attention. “I don’t believe I’ve thanked you for all your help yet.” He brings your hand to his mouth and presses his lips to your skin. Softly, lingering. “Properly, that is.” In his hooded eyes is a brazen offer.

His mustache brushes more softly than you would have thought, and your mind immediately leaps to imagine what it would feel like against your mouth. Heat flares within you at the thought, but you pull your hand free and step back from him. You can see his thoughts slow, reorganize at your retreat.

“You don’t have to thank me with sex, Javier.” It would be lying to say you hadn’t considered this possibility; you place each word with care, knowing that any future relationship you might have with Javier would depend on his response to this conversation. “I didn’t help you as an excuse to sleep with you.”

It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in sex with him, exactly. The truth was...you didn’t want to be done with him yet. You wanted to learn more about him, uncover all the little things that made him him behind the gruff armor. But if you agreed to be seduced by him tonight, it would send the opposite message. That all he had been to you was a debt that was now paid.

Javier looks befuddled, the furrow in his brow deepening as his listens. Your next words come out sounding more practiced. “If that’s all you want from me then fine, but...friendship is good too, you know? Friends are a thing people have.” Your gaze drops briefly, a flicker of embarrassment overtaking you. But you’re determined to make him understand that this isn’t a blanket rejection.

His expression turns frustratingly inscrutable as he digests this. “Right.” Slowly he nods, shifting away from your door.

“Just- think about what I said, Javi. Okay?” No pity in your voice, only a soft, steady plea.

Javier continues to nod as he backs away. “Sure,” he replies, step by step, toward his own home. “Buenas noches, Vecina.” Good night, Neighbor.

In a twisted reversal of your usual roles, you watch him walk the length of the hall. A contemplative saunter, hands sliding into his pockets to retrieve a cigarette.

You can only hope you said the right thing.

---

A/N: In the first scene, Javi left the room to go put on underwear lmao.

Fic Taglist: @din-damn-djarin​, @thirstworldproblemss​ 

[orionwhispers]

Swan Song// Thomas Shelby 🍸

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

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

PART 1  PART 2

It was one of those dreamy midsummer nights.

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

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

It was perfect. Well - almost.

You missed him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That wasn’t the only reason though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That it has.”

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

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

“I’ve been busy.”

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

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

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

“The woman it’s for is worth it.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I decline.”

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

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

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

“Have you ever considered, Tom?”

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

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

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

“Yes. I have.”

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

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

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

—————————————————————

Your reaction was even better than he imagined.

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

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

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

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

“Everything’s in order.”

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

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

“It’s a celebration, brother.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re back.”

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

“And you should be in bed.”

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

You smelt of home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were going to be the death of him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Close your eyes.”

You huffed. “Is that really necessary?”

“Close ‘em.”

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

“Open.”

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s something else.”

“Tommy - ”

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

You inhaled sharply, feeling yourself floating.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Tommy. I love you.”

—————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laughed out loud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, that he liked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to be your what?”

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

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

“Yeah. Right.”

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

“Do I have to wear a dress?”

You grinned. “Only if you want to.”

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

“Alright. Okay. Yes! Bloody hell.”

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

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

You smiled, as sweet as spun sugar.

“Nope.”

—————————————————————-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mary? What is it?”

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

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

On July 20th

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

The wedding of the century!

————————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright you two, no time to lose!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. Fuck off, both of you.”

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

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

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

“Fuck tradition.”

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

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

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

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

“Alright. Bloody hell, fine.”

“Good decision brother.” Arthur said,

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

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

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

“Cmon, love, lets go.”

“Wait.”

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

“Be safe. Alright? I love you.”

“I love you.”

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

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

Every single one of them involved drinking.

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

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

“Hm?”

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

———————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh! Oh! I’m so sorry!”

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

————————————————————-

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

“Not having second thoughts are we?”

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

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

“I should be asking you the same question.”

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

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

“Bloody hell! Is he alright?”

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

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

“Wait! It’s after midnight!”

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

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

“(Y/N).”

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

You heard an exasperated laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

“She doesn’t scare me.”

“She should.”

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

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

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

“Do you think she’ll come?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think she will.”

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

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

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

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

————————————————————————

Polly let you sleep in until 8.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re glowing!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had never seen Polly cry.

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

“Thank you for making my boys so happy.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ve left the car running.”

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

“Just in case.” He continued.

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

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

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

“Really, (Y/N). You look... wow.”

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

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

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

“I wanted to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can handle her.”

“Can you?”

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

“It looks perfect.”

“I love it Michael.”

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

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

A moment of silence, and then:

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

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

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

————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were smitten, and so was he.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————————————————————-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————————————————-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tommy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turned to face him, confused.

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

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

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

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

A pause. A beat of silence.

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

His hands on yours, pulling you in.

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

“I love you, (Y/N).”

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

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

[mallowstep]

holy fuxk i prommy it's not intentional and i will change it if it makes you uncomfortable but i just realized i ALSO renamed hollyleaf as hollyshine in my own au stuff zicjxjdhxhhs

u know what they say about great minds n all that i guess lol

yesss more hollyshines <3 it's such a pretty name.

uhh look y'all imma ramble under the cut about fandom & transformative works but i basically have a blanket permission statement for fair use. i expect y'all to credit stuff when it's more than just a concept, but you're welcome to Go Wild without asking for permission.

want to write a fic with the same concept as stolag? go for it! etc.

anyway this is to say: you do Not need my go ahead to use hollyshine as a name Especially if u came up with it first. (but obviously you have it.) like if i came across it in the wild i'd just think "aw sick someone else thinks hollyshine is a good name"

(also if ur comfy doing so pls share link? i like checking out this kind of thing and hollyshine is a pretty name.)

anyway idk like. obviously it doesn't bother me when people ask for permission to do something. like if u ask for permission to make fanart or write a fic or anything Like That i'm not gonna b upset and i'm not gonna say no but at the same time idk.

it's fic, like, i didn't ask wp if i could write about gay cats murdering each other and causing trauma, i just did.

and like idk i know there's a lot to be said about this, more than i can say right now, but i want to promote the attitude that like. in general you don't have to ask.

and it's definitely. a line.

i think i would be a little upset if, say, someone took the lore in "the elders' den" stories and didn't credit me.

that's not to say y'all can't, by the way. if you want to use "full moon" (story of how cats know when the gathering is), "there's holy water, undiluted; i see the divine" (riverclan creation story), etc., you're more than welcome to. i'd be honoured. just link to the original/cite it somehow, and don't plagiarize. (i.e., you can't copy the actual work text.)

right but those stories are all my creations. like the meat of the story revolves around my own characters and ideas.

buuuut you don't have to ask? i mean i don't expect that. and i know there's a variety of opinions on this but i'm of the opinion that to a wide degree of tolerance, you shouldn't have to ask.

there's. like okay, i understand why authors want people to ask before translations are written, that makes sense to me. i'd be uncomfortable if someone started translating one of my works without telling me, mostly because i'd want to be around if they had doubts about intentions/phrasing. doubly so if it was a language i didn't speak.

and when you get into Original Characters, Original Lore, that kind of thing, there's definitely. idk, we're all fic authors, right? like we're all out here writing without permission. and i'm not sure, i'm honestly not sure what conclusion i want to draw, because it's kind of this fuzzy thing like. i Don't know when it's acceptable to just do something and when you should ask.

and usually i just copy my faq or link to it, depending on how much energy i have. because i don't really. egh.

but i think something about this ask (and anon, i'm not upset with you or anything, big /nm, i'm just rambling about attitudes towards this and philosophy) hit something in me because like.

if you had the idea before me, or even without Intending to do it because i did it, i think you shouldn't feel like you have to ask, and you shouldn't feel like my opinion matters.

and bluh i hate saying "shouldn't feel" it's a very ineloquent way of saying a more nuanced thing but it's also shorthand for a more nuanced thing.

but i digress; i think it's just. i know when you're just on ao3, the general attitude seems to be a Lot More open. someone wrote something inspired by "what is our ending and beginning" which was a Huge shock to me because. inspired by My Little Hollyleaf One-Shot? what?

and i certainly like. when i posted "funerals. mourning. prayer." i didn't ask...fuck can't remember the author of "Tell Me About Your Ancestors" but i didn't ask them, i didn't ask solacefruit, for permission, i just cited my sources and moved on.

(altho i did forget to add "the light that shines on you" for way too long whoops so ig plugging for it now go read it it's really good.)

ig what i'm saying is, i'm making Transformative Works, right? that's part of what makes fic legal, is that it's meant to be substantively different from the original. i think but you get the point.

and so if someone wants to make a transformative work of my transformative work, i don't see why they should ask for permission any more than i did.

[vaguekiwi]

*reads violet rain ch27* *screams internally for 10mins straight* *wanders off in a daze to get a drink and some chocolate* fsck I need some fluffy comfort fics now

I’m gonna reply to all your asks right here I hope that’s okay ❤️ This was like 100% my fault for being offline but there’s a whole damn conversation under the cut 😂

FSCKING BECK WHEN WILL HE DIE!?!?! lol. Oh boy. My starker heart came to life when Peter thought that somehow Tony was there to save him, and then my starker heart shrivelled into a sad little lump when Peter was on the brink of letting Tony die. But I have to say it did feel painfully realistic, like yeah, if he just let Tony die maybe a lot of problems would be solved. Seems like their relationship has another 100k words to go in order to get anywhere good! Which I for one, welcome! Lol

YES GOD BECK IS INFURIATING IN THIS FIC. I was rereading 16 and 18 the other day (which are Beck’s chapters) and I was like ‘man, I even knew what was coming and these chapters are still SO unsettling on the reread 😂’

I think that the moment where Peter has the opportunity to let Tony die (ostensibly at no fault of his own, albeit he designed the poison sooo 👀🤷‍♀️) is a really important moment for the fic. It digs into that idea that gets brought up in 28 that this is more a reflection of Peter’s character and the concept of divine grace, rather than Tony. Don’t get me wrong, I love Tony. But Violet Rain I think is more of a Peter fic 😄 And… just in the directions things ended up going in, that climactic moment centres more on Peter’s character and concepts of forgiveness rather than revenge.

Their relationship probably does have another 100k words to go to get to a stable place… but umm… we can follow up on this after 29 and 30 are posted 😂

-yo yo just read ch28 of violet rain and like i think this is the first chapter in months that did NOT send my blood pressure through the roof so thank you for that lol. just absolutely incredible what a rollercoaster this has been you should do something fun to celebrate when you get to the end of this fic!

i loved Tony's coma visions of his family and his conversation with Ben. in my opinion it was absolutely spot on - peter didn't save tony because of who tony is, he saved Tony because of who he (peter) is. and that's true grace! nice! like everyone else, i ADORED the cuddling. i like to think that despite everything some part of tony and peter realises that there's this unacknowledged potential & burgeoning chemistry between them. if they had only met under different circumstances...*heart eyes*

also i find violet rain amazing because I feel I could be fine with an ending where Tony annuls the marriage & leaves, then Peter just happily rules Arachne, the end! and they're both like, ok, that was a crazy few months, guess i was kind of attracted to you, occasionally felt a weird connection with you, but never mind lol. meanwhile i, the starker-shipping reader, crumbles into a pile of ashes haha. but that ending would absolutely make sense and be fine! i need to ramble more about this

i'm just so invested in violet rain's ending because like I said, i think it could go either way & make perfect sense. i was just imagining an epilogue where Tony and Peter get word of each other's re-marriage/engagement, Tony to some nice noblewoman & Peter to some nice duke/soldier, & they're both like, oh,that's nice! congratulations & there's some weird unexpected wistfulness & mixed feelings but ultimately acceptance, so it's one of those bittersweet endings that haunts readers FOREVER lmao

I'm so sorry for the spam and ramblings from my imagination haha. I just can't remember the last time I was so invested in a fic! ch28 was such a welcome change of pace for me and my heart rate lol compared to the last i don't know how many chapters! i absolutely love peter refusing to leave Tony for even a second. is it just because he's the only one with the required medical expertise? or also for other, subconscious reasons he's left unexamined? regardless, it made my shipper heart happy!

Yeah, I was quite adamant that 28 not end on a big cliffhanger/scary moment. I didn’t even really want to mention the annulment again, I wanted the end of 28 to just be soft and sweet between the boys. But, part of Tony’s little moral shift involved mentioning the annulment. And I didn’t want it to be forgotten about when it comes up again, so my beta and I added a beat right at the end of 28 which mentions it.

I am so happy you liked Tony’s dreams/visions/whatever-they-actually-were lol 😅 Originally, Ben was kinda weirdly-nice to Tony and my betareader ended up pushing for a harsher tone, which I think ended up working out GREAT. Because, the dreams needed to read as EITHER an ethereal/paranormal experience for Tony OR as Tony’s subconscious speaking to himself, what would Tony think these people will say/do.

“If they had met under different circumstances” is really the kicker, isn’t it? I have an ex who I often think of as being ‘the right person at the wrong time’. He very well could have been the absolute-endgame-love-of-my-life. He was effortless for me: we had many of the same values, many of the same interests, we were compatible in many ways, etc. But I think that endgame would only have existed if we’d met differently and once we were older. Now, he and I never hurt one another as egregiously as Tony hurts Peter or anything like that. But it’s very hard to walk away from so much potential just because the timing or setting or external factors didn’t work out.

And honestly? You just being on board with a non-Starker ending? 🥺🥺 That makes me so soft. I’m glad the direction of the story fits and the thought of that tiny bit of heartbreak-wistful-but-still-satisfying-happyish-ending is actually exactly what I’m going for (though, spoiler alert, your proposal here isn’t how it ends 😅) It’s something bittersweet; acknowledging that a lot of pain and heartbreak has occurred but still finding a way to move forward. They have a lot of life left to live, after all!

I’m a big fan of the artist Sleeping at Last and his songs Three and Light have been on my mind a lot as I draft the end of the fic. Three has a whole thing about past regrets and doing enough to make up for them, even though humans are automatically worthy of love/grace/etc.

Please never ever apologise for talking to me about this fic. As you can tell from this reply (which I actually pared down, lmao) I have SO much to talk about regarding my own life, this fic, different scenes, the brainstorming/drafting/re-brainstorming/re-drafting/revising process, etc. I think once I’m done I’m gonna write up a really big reflection for myself and there’s no doubt in my mind it’ll be like ten thousand words lmao.

And as for Peter staying by Tony’s side: Peter Parker’s a control freak 😂 Part of it is that he has the most expertise, but he also mentions in Ch. 28 that if he did go sleep somewhere else then he wouldn’t be able to sleep because he’d be worried about Tony. So, there is indeed something subconscious keeping him by Tony’s side in addition to his perceived obligation as a doctor (he did the same thing with Rhodey in Chs. 7-8.)

I really really hope the end of the fic holds up my end of the bargain to you and other readers with this whole crazy adventure❤️❤️❤️ I’m not sure right now when 29 and 30 will be up, but I can’t wait for you to read them ❤️❤️❤️

[chaoticspacefam]

While I’m slowly wading my way through the OC Masterpost, have some headcanons on how I set up the Sith's views on marriage (and a tiny bit on love, but I can make a whole other post just to elaborate on that tbh so I’m trying not to do it here otherwise it’d be way too long)

Disclaimer: as always, these are my personal lore/headcanons.If you don’t like them, that’s fine, I’m not saying that you can’t make your own, you go do that if you want! If you do like and want to use them, though, you are more than welcome to (some sort of credit/link back is appreciated if you’re using it 100% directly and not y’know, changing it up some!)

Most of these originate from the actual Sith Pureblood species (and by that I mean pre-Valkoriate takeover, a.k.a. Ahaszaai-dynasty too!), but I imagine some of these still “carried over” post-Valkoriate as well. Perhaps not as-is, because hundreds of years of word of mouth + an almost total genocide is bound to mean some info is lost but ya get me right? Long-ish rambly headcanons under the cut. We ready? OK then here we goooo

So, how often do they get married and for what reasons? Is it always political, or is there some love involved? Does it end up being a bit of both? The answer, I’d like to imagine, is it depends on the Sith in question which probably doesn’t clear up much in and of itself so let me explain:

Political marriages are probably very common, y’know to strengthen bonds between particular family lines and/or Spheres of the Dark Council and yadda yadda. Those marriages are more likely to follow rule #2 below because well...that’d be the entire point of the marriage right? BUT genuine, romantic love....That’s something that the Jedi and maybe even a lot of Imperial citizens assume that Purebloods/Sith don’t feel because...that’s kinda how they come across to nearly everyone, especially in public.

And it’s not that they don’t. They do. But a) it takes them a lot longer to get to that point, because that level of deep connection to them isn’t just a fluttery feeling in their chest or even a sense of “home” (it can be both those things, but at it’s core it’s so much more than just that), it’s an all-or-nothing, deeply intense sort of bond that even the Pureblood/Sith themselves has trouble recognising and accepting, because it’s so all-consuming that it’s viscerally TERRIFYING to both parties involved. (in essence, at least)

But assuming that two Sith did marry, what happens then? Who takes who’s name, who gains control of the family’s fleet yadda yadda yadda? So:

1) They marry sort-of in secret, it’s official, but both keep their own/”maiden” (I use the term loosely bc afaik that’s the technical term for it?) names and as far as anyone is concerned, unless they explicitly TELL you they’re married.... They aren’t. Why? For safety; because your enemies (Jedi, other Sith, whatever) cannot use your spouse against you, take them hostage or hurt them to blackmail you, if they don’t know that you have one. Likely, they would tell a few select trusted family members and/or followers, but that’s about it. For example: despite Abaron and Vowrawn being married (likely for a number of decades to a century at least - I need to hammer out their ages in relation to everything still so forgive not having a solid figure), I would say outright that 98, maybe even 99% of the Empire doesn’t have a bloody clue. Abaron is an Ahaszaai in every sense, but never in public and never on the paperwork - as far as they’re all concerned he’s just Abaron, and he just so happens to be one of the Sith Lords that Vowrawn would entrust to be his bodyguard. I imagine next to none of the Dark Council (save for perhaps Darth Marr, I’m concidering it) know they’re even romantically involved much less married. Of the Sith who are left, probably Saarai and Ni’kasi know, and eventually Vano once she works her way into their circle and gains Vowrawn’s trust. Nobody else. Because being aloof and not showing PDA is the best way they can protect each other from being harmed, and they’re both agreed on that. And a lot of people, if they do happen to suspect that something is going on between them (or any other two Sith for that matter) mistake that for being “cold and uncaring” or “not feeling affection”. Aria and Vano eventually, when they marry, double-barrel their surnames. But they too, never drop them in public for the same reason. Vano is always “Wrath”, Aria is always “Canis”. Because even though they’re together all the time, all it looks like to the rest of the Empire (and their enemies) is two allies. Yes, they could still take a shot and potentially use it against them, but the chances of it happening are likely far less than if people were to know they were married for sure.

OR 2) If they do choose to do a name change, whoever has the lowest social status will take their partner’s last name. Whether the people getting married are same-gender, opposite-gender, genderfluid, whatever. Fuck gender norms, there are none. No-one gives a shit what gender you or your partner are, all that matters is who has the most power, the most influence (because even when kids are concerned, they have the technology available to make surrogacy a viable option for those who want to carry on the bloodline and so on). And that person does not, without great debacle (I imagine it’s a great source of drama if it does happen, but most tend to play it safe and just n o t), lower their social status and their influence within the Empire to take on a “commoner’s” name. Most of the time, if the marriage is this public it is either a) political, thus benefiting both of the family lines/Spheres/etc. involved by the entire Empire knowing that they’re officially a thing.  or b) the couple themselves is so confident in the strength of their own powerbase that they are not in the least bit concerned that any enemy or rival can use their marriage against them somehow. Moreso, whoever marries into the higher bloodline will within reason, inherit their spouse’s status and as such, legally, there’s no such thing as “pulling rank” on your spouse...except for matters which concern the entire family (or it’s powerbase and any sub-section of said powerbase) as a whole. In those cases, the Pureblood/Sith who is biologically born of that bloodline has the final say in it; even if it means the husband answering to the wife. Though Kissai took on the Ahaszaai family name and for all intents and purposes became High Lord of the House, D’leah was always the “real” Ahaszaai and she ultimately called all the shots. If she said “jump”, he said “how high”, you get the picture.

That’s not to say that some members would attempt to work their way into a particularly high ranking family so they could take advantage of their social status and that dynamic (Ty’s father, Tsâhis, did to a certain extent, though it wasn’t until after he’d strung Saarai along for a while that he was finally sure she was an Ahaszaai. Had Valkoriate not killed nearly all of the rest of their family and had they continued to be the ruling bloodline he likely would have still gone after Saarai and attempted to gain more power using the Ahaszaai reputation as a sort of...springboard if that makes sense?)

But y’know, as a Sith if you’re going to do this you’d better be prepared and know how to lie and cover it up, because if your spouse or your in-laws find out that you’re trying to undercut them with malicious intent? Well, Sith will be Sith, right? I don’t imagine they take well to “traitors” :’ D

That’s uhhh, the basics?? like I said I have a literal lore document, I have loads more but this is already an info dump and idk if any of y’all are even interested in it so y’know. Testing the waters a lil here to see how this goes?? y’all want more? lol

[paperclipninja]

Younger post-ep recap 6x06

Due to a rather unfortunate run in between my laptop and a glass of water I lost my original ramble for this week’s Younger (as well as the actual laptop so R.I.P Lappy, you were actually pretty terrible but we had a good run). So instead of my usual review I thought I’d do more of a recap and refresher of the last episode to get us prepped, primed and pumped (aka the 3 P's) for the next installment (ep7).

Episode 6 of Younger was in many ways so bonkers that it shouldn’t have worked, but somehow all the pieces came together and it did .Oh boy did it ever! I outright belly laughed a number of times throughout and I think my dog was mildly concerned for my well-being because there were actual tears coming out my eyes at a couple of points. I’m a sucker for a pun so ‘Merger, She Wrote’ had me at hello (you could say my hopes for the ep were high...yes I did and #notsorry). What I wouldn’t have given to be in the room to see the reactions to a script with ‘Liza goes to talk to the nurse who is actually a plant’ in it. So yes there were LOLs galore but most importantly, by the end of the ep order had been restored following the upheaval of the past 6 episodes (which is about the limit viewers can take sitting in the discomfort of an unfamiliar detour from the norm IMO: think the Bryce Reiger arc in season 3 and the Charles finding out the lie in season 5...it’s almost as though Darren and co. have done this before...), Finally the fam is back together at Millennial (or is it Mercennial now?)

Straight off the bat I was very distracted for most of the opening scene by Liza’s dress and look in general because it was AMAZING.  I am loving all the Maggie/Liza in the morning scenes we’re getting this season and Maggie in a blue coverall embarking on a DIY rope harness ceiling painting project...what could possibly go wrong? I felt mildly uncomfortable at how relatable Maggie’s not being served for 10 mins in a bar and sneaking out to the fridge in the night were, but was also mildly mesmerized by Liza’s coffee mug that looked like some kind of old-timey wash basin (turns out this was not relevant to the story but noted nonetheless). Maggie also offers the very straight forward solution of merging the two companies to alleviate the tension that’s putting Liza and Charles in ‘not a good place’ and I love that her ‘bing, bang, boom’ is echoed by Liza when she floats the idea with Charles later in the ep. 

The' Microdosing' book pitch provided us with the set up for the retreat and my fave thing about this scene was how IN character all the characters reactions were to it all; Diana is flat out appalled by the whole thing, Liza is Captain Cautious but trying to play it cool and Kelsey looks like she’s seeing colour for the first time and would 100% pledge her devotion to Travis in any kind of cult situation.

What might have seemed out of character, but actually ended up so perfectly capturing the way she always does everything with absolute gusto, was Diana's foray into boomer erotica narration (as Liza so eloquently put it, 'I think we just found our Seasoned Slut'. These lines, I swear *rofl emoji* )  I think I laughed through the entire scene of Diana in the recording studio, I mean, Miriam Shor's delivery of every line just kills me, but the highlight was undoubtedly when she suggested she could hit nipple a little harder and affirmed  'throbbing nipple' to herself as she walked back to the booth. Zane and creepy af Audrey Colbert waiting allowed for Diana to unsubtly hot foot it out of there, which was a great throwback to her refusal to be in the same room as Audrey in ep 3.

It was a also great opportunity to bring Zane and Kelsey back together and who doesn't love an awks 'accidentally had the mic open and didn't realize' moment when you're talking about how your author is definitely a murderer? I feel like Audrey may go and find another publisher now (just a hunch) but I would really like to see more of her because this character is a type of unhinged that we haven't seen on this show and I think that could be a lot of fun to see play out. I have to say that Kelsey Peters is NOT someone I picked as a boop-er of noses, yet there she was at the bar, booping Zane's nose and this was my favourite interaction of theirs in the series. I was totally digging the dynamic this ep and it will be very interesting to see what that will look like with the new work arrangements. Also, where was Zane when that was all going down btw? I assume Charles filled him in on the bringing the companies together plan before it happened?

Liza's excitement when she told Charles the idea of merging the two companies was endearing and I am unabashedly a big fan of Charles, but his attempt at convincing Liza to join him at Mercury after she tells him that she won't leave Millennial and Kelsey, by saying he left his company to be with her, was super shitty. But it was also super necessary. Because at some point this needed to be said and most importantly, Liza needed to call him out on it and let him know that he cannot use it as a bargaining chip. One of the things I love most about the Charles/Liza dynamic (aside from all the things, but that's another essay) is that Liza is her own advocate in this relationship, she will stand her ground when something is important to her and does not compromise herself to appease Charles. He is equally as stubborn but they are able to have the hard conversations that need to be had but this doesn’t lead them to question whether they want to be together (I very much appreciated the kiss on the cheek Liza gave Charles before she left for this very reason).

So of course being on a psychedelics retreat together when they've hit a roadblock in the relationship was definitely a very good idea...Well it was for us as viewers at least, because pretty much from the moment they arrive and Liza and Charles start talking straight to camera as the literal doctor (my god that whole line just cracked me up) informs them they'll be taking not-LSD, we know we're not in Kansas anymore Toto. Enter Josh for *insert drama here* purposes (and I do think he should franchise Inkburg coz why not?) and we have, ladies and gentlefolk, a recipe for some next level hilarity. But not before Josh and Liza share a lingering look as they take their dose of illicit substance to ensure that Lizs's trip includes one down memory lane.

I have made my feelings about love triangles known many times (quick recap: hard dislike. Tricky to pull off without one or more characters looking bad. Very tiring as a viewer and quite frankly I am pretty lazy and tired most of the time irl so just don't want it on my screen), however I will say that I did not see this ep as re-stoking the love triangle, I saw it as simply reminding us that it is there and can be reignited by the writers at any stage. Within the context of everything that was happening, Liza hallucinating Josh at her door actually made sense and I have no doubt that various factions of Younger fans had meltdowns at that moment for very different reasons.. Sutton Foster's physical comedy throughout this whole ep was second to none, starting at her realization that it was, in fact, Charles who had come to her room and continuing the next morning at breakfast.

Speaking of which, there was something about seeing Liza and Charles in the breakfast room together that made my sappy heart swell, it had such a vacay feel and I'm sure if you muted your volume you could pretend they were just listening to the activities for the day before going off to spend some quality time together...I mean, maybe that would be a thing, I wouldn't know....where was I? Oh yes, the unfolding of a series of comedy golden McNuggets™ that I am still laughing about. We learn that Liza is a supertaster (for those like me who pretended they understood what that meant but then realized they did not, I googled it and it means that she is sensitive to the drugs and basically the microdose affects her like a full dose, you're welcome) and I am chuckling even now when I think about Josh's, 'hey guys' in Charles' voice as he joins the table.

This is another one of those concepts that I feel like could've not worked at all but sweet lawd, the Charles and Josh voice swap scene was next level and I could watch this and the scene that follows over and over and never not laugh. I again LOVE the decision to have the guys talk to camera because it absolutely emphasizes the whole situation and Liza sidestepping away to visit the nurse just rounded off the whole crazy caper.

I have no words to describe how much I love the flat out ridiculous perfection of the visit to Nurse Maureen. Yes Liza has the epiphany that Josh and Charles bring out different things in her (though hot sex seems to be at the core of both so ya know, sounds like a win in the past and present and good for her on both accounts) and again, the unlikely scenario that her ex and current boyfriends are in the same place at the same time (while she is taking mind altering substance) has just played out so it also makes sense in this context. Quite frankly I'm shipping her and Maureen pretty hard at this point because a) it is not easy to pull off eyeshadow that green and b) everyone deserves someone in their life who has the kind of belief in Liza that Maureen does when she tells her 'I bet you can' dance just like me. I don't even know how to explain whatever that dance is but I just know that I want someone/something in my life that will windmill their/it's arms at me with such fervor that I find myself dancing with two attractive men in tuxedos on a galaxy stage.

I cannot express the joy I felt watching the entire dance scene, it was all just so. much. fun. But my absolute hands down favourite moment was when it cut back to the retreat and we, along with Charles and Josh, discover that Liza is in fact dancing with 'Maureen' the plant and seriously, this is up there with my highlights of the entire series. That and the reveal that the selfies Liza was taking were sent to Diana (Diana speaking to Liza in her 'sexy' voice, asking 'where is my plant?', Liza's, 'Maureen', I just cannot with every part of this glorious tie in at the end of the ep. I am sending Ashley Skidmore a houseplant to express my gratitude for gifting us with these moments*). Seeing Josh and Charles together was great but it was clear a scene was missing and I am SO glad that Younger released the deleted conversation between the two of them coz it was both necessary because YES and also because it suddenly made Charles' entire conversation and reason for his decision to sell Mercury make sense (ie. was pretty pivotal).

I big A adored Charles and Liza's conversation (and outfits and aesthetic overall) as they're leaving the retreat, the shift in Charles is palpable and it's just such a credit to the writing and acting to be able to convey so much in such a brief scene. Maggie of course experienced quite the shift herself, from ceiling to floor, with a sufficient amount of dangling as her helpful neighbourly pervert got himself off as she got herself down. But most importantly, Maggie got her mojo back (though is she not currently dating Beth? In which case location of missing mojo: unclear).

Now I gotta tell you, the final scene of this week's ep up and got me. Big time. Kelsey's earlier comment, that she really hates competing with Charles, certainly added weight to the resolution we've all been waiting for this season. Charles' honesty about his realisation that he is hurting his family, not to mention him confirming that he means Kelsey, Diana and Liza and that he wants to come home, ugh, my insides are gooey just writing these words, leads to his offer to Kesley and honestly, the interactions between all of them in this scene was wonderful. I loved that Kelsey held the room, that Charles was putting the offer to her from one businessperson to another (though thank goodness Diana was there to point out the difference between $1 and $1000000 eek! Also, I get that it would never occur to anyone that the price would be $1 so I'll cut Kels some slack). Diana looks like she is going to cry at any moment from elation and I love the way Kelsey asks for the approval of the ladies before shaking Charles' hand. This will forever be one of my favourite scenes on this show.

The thought of Charles coming back and working as an editor alongside Liza is an actual dream. I mean, I am very happy to be taken on the journey the writers set, but I have legit wondered what it would be like to see him in that role and he and Liza working together properly as equals and I absolutely cannot believe it's going to happen.

Well this ended up being quite a bit longer than I expected (lol, what a surprise). Bring on episode 7!

*I will not in fact be sending Ashley Skidmore a houseplant because I live in a very far away country, it would cost a lot of money and it is 1000% creepy to receive a dead plant from a stranger.