#LONG HAIR JOHN 😫😫😫

[mx-paisley]

MALEVOLENT ART DUMP‼️

I really love drawing john if you havent noticed yet already

This pic above has to be my favorite

Kayne wearing paisley suit is soo him AUGHEHRUA im obsessed

the Butcher guy bc hes also my favorite RAHHHHAURHWYRY

[lodeddiperactivate]

Stopping a fight

A/N: I was daydreaming about Barry and suddenly this came to me. I needed this to be more graphic but I'll save that for the Part 3 of How to survive a horror movie :) also, I couldn't think of a better title 😫

"Rafe, stop it!" You shouted as your brother gave John B another punch to the gut. He stumbles backward knocking the vase by the coffee table.

"Stop it, let him go Rafe!" Sarah shouted at Rafe as she tried to get in between them but was met with a brute push that sent her tumbling towards you. You helped her up as John B threw another punch at Rafe.

"Beat his ass!" JJ shouted to which Kiara shot him a look.

"Stop this!" Pope tried to grab unto John B's arm but Rafe was ready to throw another punch.

"Come at me," John B said.

Rafe launched at John B to which he evaded quickly. Before you knew it, Rafe was on the floor with John B straddling him, throwing punches at Rafe's face. You see your brother's face get bloodied and you started to get nauseaous. You have never seen that much blood, and you froze. With shaky hands, you took your phone to call him, "Barry, please help," was all you said. You hear Barry on the phone frantic, asking where you are and if you were okay. You didn't respond as you let the phone fall to your side. You catch your breath as John B threw another punch at Rafe. It seemed like he was motionless and for a second, you thought he was dead. You see Sarah crying. You couldn't move. You feel a tight knot in your stomach preventing you to breathe. Breathe, you told yourself. Breathe.

"What the hell-" Barry said as he entered the room. At this point, Rafe was on the brink of passing out.

"That all you got, pogue!" He hissed at John B to which John B continued throwing punches.

"Get off of him, man!" Barry, with one quick motion, lifted John B off of Rafe.

"Stay out of this!"

"No," Barry said. "Come on, give me your best shot, boy," he taunted John B.

John B hesitated but he was so angry that he threw a punch at Barry to which Barry dodged. He quickly punched John B in the gut, and then he was on the floor, his hands on his stomach, groaning.

Rafe took this opportunity to kick John B in the stomach while he was still on the floor from Barry's punch.

"Rafe, stop it!" Barry said, getting in between Rafe and John B. The other pogues quickly went to John B helping him on his feet. You felt Sarah hold your hand before running to John B.

"Walk it off, Rafe," Barry said.

"Nah man, I'm not done yet-"

"Yes you are homie! Now walk it off," You flinched as Barry shouted at Rafe. You've never heard him speak that loudly to anyone.

For a while, you stood there and saw everything in slow motion. Guess the fight's over? You said to yourself. Why can't you move your legs? You looked down at your own hands, they're still shaking. You can't seem to stop them from shaking. Am I about to have a breakdown? Your breath hitches.

"Babe?" You looked up slowly to see Barry walking towards you. Everyone was gone. Rafe's inside. The pogues left with Sarah. How long were you standing there? It was only a few seconds but it felt like forever.

"Hey hey, it's fine now, come here."

Barry took your shaking hands, gripped them to let you know it will be okay, and wrapped you in an embrace that you leaned into naturally.

"I didn't know what else to do," your voice was shaky and you feel your tears at the back of your eyes threatening to come down.

"Shh I know baby," Barry said as he stroked your hair and eyed you carefully, observing your every expression. "Thank you for calling me."

OBX masterlist

[lancerliterature]

Just Relax

pairing: john f. kennedy/reader

summary: the summer before his graduate program at stanford, young jack kennedy brings his new fiancée, president roosevelt's niece, out on a sailboat for some much-needed alone time.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: 18+, smut, some swearing, mildly dubious consent

taglist: @raspberryknees @saturns-flowers @vlyofthedolls @fortheloveofjos @h-l-vlovesvintage @astro-vibes-bro @neverellaxx7 @maudesgf @southernpopprincess @melancholicstation @secretwonderlandcheesecake @kennediva

a/n: first of all, thank you as always to @vintagedebutante for the beautiful moodboard photos!

this fic’s based on a request i got a while ago for jack to be in an arranged kind of marriage with another socialite! i know it's short 😫 but i'm planning on posting another fic in the next few weeks. i hope you all enjoy this one!!

You’re watching Jack Kennedy sail his boat—how his flexing muscles shimmer like knots of cinnamon in the white sun, the way his golden-red hair ruffles around his ears in the fresh late-morning wind, the way his face glows pink from exertion and every few minutes he’ll mutter something like, “Easy now, just like that, there we are” while easing the long wooden tiller back and forth—when, suddenly, the boat rolls over a particularly big wave and you start slipping from your perch at the edge of the deck.

But before you even know what’s happening, Jack’s long, heroic arm comes swooping across your waist to yank you back to safety just as you’re about to tip overboard.

“I‘ve got you, I’ve got you.” You feel his voice, urgent but still self-assuredly calm, on your neck. Then you feel his hot, furry thighs as you stumble back—or what’s more likely is that he’s purposely pulling you—into his lap.

A quiet groan escapes you. This is the last thing you need. The whole reason you left the cockpit to go sit at the far edge of the boat in the first place was to try and put some distance between yourself and him.

“Are you alright?” he asks then, scorching you with one of those slow, coaxing smiles as he looms over you.

“I’m fine,” you say, and you realize from the sound of your voice that you’re a little breathless—but whether that’s from the aftershock of almost falling or the jittery thrill of being pressed against him, you aren’t entirely sure.

This little voyage at sea is the longest you two have ever been completely alone together. Sure, you’ve been technically alone for hours in places like the cinema hall or a restaurant on all of those ridiculous “dates” your families would send the two of you on so you could be photographed together before they announced your engagement, but this is different. You’re truly alone, without another soul in sight. 

Normally when you two find yourselves truly alone like this, it’s only for a few minutes while Jack drives you home from one of those “dates,” and it doesn’t take long before neither of you can handle the tension any longer and he’s pulling over and unbuttoning your blouse. And you’re pretty sure he was envisioning something along those lines when he invited you and you alone out onto his boat the second his family’s breakfast picnic ended. 

Of course, you’re envisioning that, too. How could you not? For almost a half-hour now, you’ve been forced to watch him in all his masculine glory, commanding the sea against the backdrop of the shiny Kennedy mansion on the horizon and the flapping American flag on their beachside lawn. It’s stunning, the way Jack looks like the total embodiment of the youthful, all-American manhood that he and his brothers symbolize to so many. And the fact that he just rescued you certainly isn’t making matters any easier—because what you also can’t help but envision is the scandalous story that would smear across the society column of every major newspaper if an innocent, neighborly passerby boat happened to catch you and Jack with your hands all over each other in public, before you were married, no less. Your reputation would be in ruins. Your mother genuinely might never speak to you again.

The entire world, it sometimes seems, has been involved in every last little day-to-day moment of your courtship with Jack ever since your families first formally introduced you at a dinner party over a year ago now. But that’s the whole point, you suppose, behind two of the most famous families in America betrothing their two eldest children to each other. And now that, as of last month, you and Jack are officially engaged, the country waits with bated breath for the union between the handsome Kennedy celebrity—who, come autumn, will be galavanting off for his glamorous first semester as a graduate student at Stanford, where he’ll likely mingle among a swath of California’s finest singers and matinee idols—and you. If anyone asked, you would say that the most notable thing about you is that you’ve just finished your freshman year at Radcliffe College. A few years ago, you were dubbed “President Roosevelt’s favorite niece” by the New York Times, but in all honesty, you don’t actually have any reason to believe that your uncle prefers you over any of your cousins.

But still, under no circumstances, you tell yourself, will you let Jack make any sort of move on you out here on this boat. At least one of you needs to have your priorities straight.

“I told you not to sit up there, didn’t I?” Jack is saying when you snap out of your thoughts, tilting his chin toward the edge of the deck where, moments ago, you were peacefully sitting. “Remember this next time you decide not to listen to me.”

You can’t help but crane your neck back to try and study his face for some hint as to what he’s really feeling behind all the sarcasm. Does he pity you for almost tumbling overboard? Or does he think this whole situation is just plain funny? Though either one would be sufficiently humiliating, you’re sort of hoping that, whatever he’s thinking, it’s now distracting him from any dirty thoughts.

But, alas, he’s wearing his big, circular sunglasses, so it’s really no use trying to read him. Unlike the rest of his features, his eyes are always so full of soul and emotion, and whenever you can’t see them, he suddenly becomes so distant, like a calculating secret agent who’s completely anonymous to everyone he keeps tabs on yet somehow knows all of their darkest secrets.

Your spine tightens then when you hear the faint chug of another boat cruising by, but thankfully, when you turn to look, you realize it’s not coming close enough for anyone on board to see you in Jack’s lap. Nevertheless, you twist out of Jack’s arms, landing with a soft thud beside him on the wooden bench.

Jack chuckles then, a deep, slightly dark sound. You blow your bangs out of your eyes, trying your best to seem nonchalant while sparks go off inside of you at the sound of his laugh.

“Why’d you wanna sit so far from me, anyway, huh?” he asks, sidling closer simply because he knows perfectly well that you don’t want him to.

The sharp contrast between his dark glasses and the bright, sun-reflecting tape across the freckled bridge of his nose is suddenly making your eyes burn, and you stare down at your sandals. You start to open your mouth to remind him that now isn’t the time or place to do whatever he’s thinking of doing—but your voice dries out in your throat as he places his hand on your thigh and gives it a soft, playful squeeze. Oh, boy, you think. Here we go.

“What’s wrong?” Jack murmurs with exaggerated concern, an electric sound that’s followed immediately by the dangerous, hair-raising sizzle of his lips on your exposed neck. You suck in a sharp breath of air. “Afraid somebody’s gonna see us?”

He moves your hair to the side and kisses your neck again. And again. You know you should move away but the heat from his chest has welded your body to the bench beneath you.

When he speaks again, his voice is suddenly lower and quieter than before, like there’s something inside of him that he, too, is now trying to suppress, to wrangle into control.

“There’s no need to worry,” he says. “If there’s a photo of me bending you over the deck in The Post tomorrow, I’ll make sure none of the blame falls on you. I’ll say I grabbed you and you tried your best to get away but I just wouldn’t let you go.”

He chuckles again, and then, when you sense him suddenly pulling away, you can’t help but feel a clench of disappointment.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him reach up into the sails and bring the boat to a complete standstill in a whirlwind of brisk, whooshing movements. Then you’re being heaved onto his lap again, facing him this time, your knees thumping against the bench on either side of his legs.

You let out a small, shuddering laugh, pressing your hands to his chest. “Oh, come now, Kennedy,” you say. “As romantic as it sounds, we can’t actually—”

He cuts you off by popping open the button on your shorts.

You’re suppressing a grin as you try your best to push away from him, to squeeze your thighs closed. But his big hands close tightly around your hips, and in a sudden flash of riled-up aggression, he jolts you still with one sharp, warning movement. Almost immediately, you can feel bruises start to form under his fingertips, which makes your stomach somersault.

“Keep still, Y/N,” Jack groans between clenched teeth, the corners of his mouth fighting off a smirk. “Christ. You’re killing me.”

Left with no other choice, you settle back down into his lap, and you quickly realize exactly what he meant by “You’re killing me.” The inside of your thigh brushes against a bulge in his pants that, you can only assume, was created by the friction from all your inadvertent grinding against him.

A shaky gasp leaves your lips then as his long, knuckly finger slips inside your zipper. When that same finger starts to move in slow circles over your clit, your head falls back and you breathe “God dammit, Jack” to the sky.

“Listen,” Jack says into your skin while he kisses across the length of your collarbone, “I promise nobody’s gonna see us. We’re far enough out.”

He brings his free hand to cup your breast over your shirt, and your head tilts forward. Your forehead smushes against his, which, strangely, is kind of soothing. You take the opportunity to let out a deep breath.

“That’s it, kid,” Jack says, his teeth brushing against your lips. “Just relax.”

Into his mouth, you whisper the words, “I hate you.”

One of his eyebrows twitches up over his sunglasses. “Yeah?” he says, and he suddenly sounds even more feverishly out-of-breath than you are. “You hate me, huh?”

He laughs as his finger increases its pressure, and a wave of pleasure so intense you feel like you could vomit cracks through your body. So much for trying to relax. Your mouth falls open, and as you gasp his name, you notice his mouth going slack, too, as he watches yours. An odd, gratifying tingle shoots down your back.

He increases the pressure again. “How does that feel?” he asks, blinding you with the cocky glint of his teeth. When you don’t respond—because your deep-seated competitive side won’t give him the satisfaction—he closes your clit between his thumb and pointer finger in a gentle pinch.

You can’t do anything but groan as that watery pressure starts to reach a breaking point between your legs. 

In a last-ditch attempt to gain some semblance of control over the situation, you shove those god-forsaken sunglasses up off his face and back into his thick tangle of hair. But his eyes are so bright and so full of what looks to be some sort of boyish, appreciative awe as he looks up at you that, once again, you’re rendered stunned and powerless. You’re briefly reminded of that old John Buchan quote you always felt described Jack perfectly: “He disliked emotion, not because he felt lightly, but because he felt deeply.”

“Soon,” Jack says then, as if he’s been waiting to say this until his sunglasses were off and he could truly look you in the eye, “we’ll have our own house and the rest of our lives to be alone every single day.”

The sun starts to melt out from behind a cloud, and Jack’s eyes crease adorably around the edges as he squints up at you. You aren’t quite sure how to respond to his uncharacteristically sentimental remark, but in the end, you don’t have to. You hit your climax right at that moment—you aren’t sure exactly why. But suddenly your whole body is trembling, and you’re gasping his name into his neck, sinking your teeth into his stubbly skin, digging your nails into his shoulders. You feel his throat vibrating as he groans along with you.

Just then, you hear another sailboat come putzing by—and this one sounds only a hundred or so feet away. Immediately, you’re ripped from the throes of ecstasy. You sit back up, heart jumping into your throat so fast you almost choke. You feel Jack tense up, too.

But then the man at the helm of the boat waves and shouts hello, and you feel Jack relax.

“Ah,” Jack says. “It’s just old Mr. Newman. He can’t see well. Completely harmless.”

“Are you kids behaving yourselves?” Mr. Newman shouts jovially across the glittering water.

“Always, Mr. Newman,” Jack says, pulling his hand out of your shorts to wave back.

thank you for reading!!

[writeforfandoms]

I DIDNT UNDERSTAND THE 2K CELEBRATION THING AND IVE JUST REALISED I CAN REQUEST!! and also you basically told me lol

pretty please with a cherry on top may i have a blurb where soap fits into their kingdom? sorry idk how to word it 😫 just like with ghost’s!

i literally feed off your writing so i would devour anything!

– 🪼

Hee hee hee 😈😈 let's see how Soap joins their little castle...

Warnings: swearing? Mentions of violence and accusations of thievery. John is very exasperated.

--

"Someone's coming up the hill," Simon reported, eyes narrowed over his mask. Normally he wouldn't be telling you this, and you knew that if it was anything less he wouldn't have said anything.

But John wasn't due back for another day. So. The three of you would have to make do.

"How far?" You rested one hand over your belly, rubbing idly.

"Comin' up through the valley," Simon rumbled, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Won't be long."

You nodded, tapping your fingers against your belly. Nobody had actually come up this way since Kyle. One person on his own was likely not trouble.

The trouble would be if he was to report back to a group.

"Get Kyle," you decided. "One of you two can circle back below him, and I will greet him."

Simon glowered. He did not like this plan, that much was easy to see. But he didn't argue with you - he knew better, now. "I'm staying with you."

"Better tell Kyle to hurry, then." You took a deep breath and gathered up your skirts. "I'll meet you out front."

Simon nodded once, short and sharp, and turned away. You didn't follow his progress, instead making your way down to the hoard. John had given you a few things, just in case. You tucked one into the back of your skirt, hidden from casual sight, and then made your way back up to the front of the castle.

Kyle was nowhere to be seen, and Simon simply nodded once. Good enough. You started walking, taking your time. The way was not paved, and the last thing anyone needed was for you to slip and twist an ankle.

The stranger had made it a good way up the valley by the time you found him. He carried a strange pack, things hanging off the back and swaying with his movements.

He stopped when he spotted you, tipping his head and shading his eyes to look up at you. Even from this distance, you could see the brilliant blue of his eyes.

"'Lo!" He called, friendly enough. "Was hoping ah'd find ye." His accent was unfamiliar and made you blink.

"Me?" You didn't have to feign your surprise.

"Heard there was a princess 'round here got kidnapped by a dragon." His tone never wavered from friendly, and he didn't move any closer.

Oh great. Not that again. "Not kidnapped," you called back, keeping your own voice pleasant. At your side, Simon had gone tense. "And I don't need rescuing, thank you."

He laughed. "Nah, didn't think so," he agreed, running one hand through short hair. "See, way I figure it, if a dragon had kidnapped ye, wouldn't be a reward, see? Dragons are too clever. Wouldn't have just nabbed ye."

You blinked. Well. This one either had experience with dragons or was much smarter than... well. The majority of people. "So why did you come?"

"Had to see for m'self." He shrugged. "Well. That, and I have a bet."

You hummed softly. "Why don't you come up," you offered, easy as anything. "Since you made the trip all the way out here."

"Kind of ye." He started walking again, taking his time. Simon gently nudged his way forward, between you and the stranger.

"What's your name?" You asked once he had made it up to you and Simon.

He smiled, keeping a little space between the two of you and himself. "John," he said. "John MacTavish."

"Not a local, then." You let Simon take up post between you as you started walking, taking your time.

"Nah," he agreed. "I come from a much smaller place, up north. Joined some traveling merchants, wanted t' see more of the world."

"And is that what you are? A traveling merchant?" You looked at him, gaze once again catching on his pack. Solid cookware hung off the back, padded so it wouldn't make a lot of noise. Bundles of herbs hung off the sides. Interesting choices.

"For now." John shot you a grin, apparently undaunted by Simon's scowl.

"I see." You eyed him. Traveling merchants often had some mercenaries with them for protection, yet this man traveled alone and apparently without fear. Hm. Very interesting.

The rest of the way you walked in silence. You entered the castle first, heading straight to the bigger dining room. That one was less used but it suited your purposes better.

"Kyle," you called without looking, "do we still have rolls?"

"Yes," he answered after a moment, popping up behind Simon. Dark eyes looked between you and the traveler John, a little anxious.

"Would you mind bringing those, please?"

Kyle vanished, going further down the hall. Simon did not follow, taking up his post again beside you, even as you lowered yourself into a chair.

"Have a seat." You waved in invitation to the far side of the table.

"Thank ye." John sat, watching you.

"Now." You drummed your fingers against your belly. "I do find it hard to believe you came all the way up here for a bet. It's a long trek from the nearest village."

He grinned again, easy as anything. "Well, not just for a bet," he agreed. "Curiosity, too."

"Hm." You tipped your head to the side. "Well, if curiosity is all you wanted to sate, then you'll be on your way after a snack." You smiled. People often underestimated you, they had even when you still lived with the King. You were hoping this would prove true yet again.

And he hesitated. His fingers twitched.

Aha. You knew it.

"Well. See." He paused again, licking his lips. He held your gaze across the space, and you lifted one eyebrow, expression pleasantly detached. He huffed a little sigh. "Was hopin' for something a little more material."

And there it was. The real reason he'd risked a dragon's wrath to trek up here. "Why don't you start from the beginning."

Kyle returned with the rolls, setting the bowl on the table. And then he sat next to you, arms crossed stubbornly to show he wasn't moving. You simply patted his knee, gaze locked on John.

"Ah did travel with merchants," he said, looking away briefly. "As a hired sword. Got accused of some shite ah dinnae do, wouldnae do."

"And got run off," you guessed when he stopped.

"Something like that."

"So why come here?" You leaned back, satisfied that you'd been right.

He snorted. "Knew they would not dare follow me here."

"I see." You drummed your fingers against your belly again, debating. He waited, holding his peace now. "Kyle, would it be difficult to cook for one more?"

Kyle blew out a breath. He knew how futile arguing with you was. "No," he agreed, only a little ill tempered. "Not hard."

"Good!" You clapped your hands together. "Then you can help Kyle on the kitchen." You shooed John (you needed a nickname for him) out of his chair. "Go on, make yourself useful."

Looking a little bewildered, John followed Kyle. You could just hear the two of them down the hall.

"Simon, you're with me. I know we've got a room that locks on the outside, we'll put him there tonight."

"And then?" Simon didn't protest, following you down the hall.

"And then tomorrow John will be home." You shrugged. "And if the traveler has told us the truth, he'll be fine."

Simon's rough chuckle made you turn to blink at him. "Ruthless," he murmured, giving you an amused look.

You just smiled. "I was taught to rule a kingdom," you agreed, pausing to gather linens.

Dinner was quiet and tense. Kyle kept glancing at you, while Simon barely took his gaze off John the traveler long enough to actually eat. You simply watched them all, rather amused.

John the traveler didn't protest to being locked in overnight.

John, your John, your husband, woke you with gentle kisses along the back and side of your neck, rumbling a deep, pleased noise.

"Morning." You half-turned to smile at him, still sleepy.

"You're fine?" He asked, one big hand sliding protectively over your belly.

"Mmhm. Everything is fine." You paused because, well, that was only mostly true. "Before we go upstairs..."

John huffed, amused. "If Kyle finally befriended that damn bird and brought it in, that's not my problem."

You laughed quietly. "Not quite," you murmured, amused. "Help me up, please."

He did one better, simply picking you up. "What are you hiding, my princess?" He purred, eyes bright.

"Well..." You waited until he'd put you down to smile up at him. "We've got a guest."

John immediately growled, stalking to the stairs. "Princess," he growled.

"He's fine," you dismissed. "Locked in a room. Wouldn't be surprised if Simon stayed outside his room all night, either."

John simply swore, taking the stairs two or three at a time. You followed much more sedately.

Which did mean you missed John barreling into John the traveler's room, and the entire interrogation.

You didn't miss your John's clear annoyance, though.

"Was I wrong?" You smiled up at your husband, pleased.

"No," he growled.

"And what did you discuss?" You rubbed your belly in slow circles.

John huffed out a smoky breath. "What makes you think we discussed anything?"

"Well, you would have asked his intentions, his reasons for coming here," you pointed out. "Which, if he's as smart as I think, he would have told you. Since he means no harm, you discussed what it is he wants."

John grumbled as he grabbed your waist, pulling you in close. "Too smart," he grumbled.

"So?" You relaxed into him, blinking slowly.

John breathed out slowly, more controlled this time. "He's bargaining for a way back to his homeland," he admitted.

"Does he have family there?"

"I don't know, I didn't ask." John looked down at you with the faintest scowl. "Princess..."

"He sure seems to have some useful skills, from what he told me," you murmured, amused. "And besides, the more help we have here, the easier raising this little one will be."

John groaned, lifting one hand to rub his face, muttering things you didn't bother to try to decipher. You already knew you'd won.

It took no time at all for John the traveler to agree and settle in. He turned out to be kind of awful at actually cooking, but he was good at prep work. Simon declared him decent after a few spars, and also promptly called him Johnny. The way Johnny puffed up (like an indignant chicken) at the nickname sealed it for you.

And so Johnny joined your little kingdom.

[narcopharmacist]

Ever since I discovered Reylo from Star Wars Sequel Trilogy back in the first 3 days of March 2024, I noticed I moved on really quickly from the stagnant state I was in with Dramione. My entire focus shifted to these 2 characters, because 1) they were the highlight of the movies, 2) they interacted for real and the interactions were significant to the story (vs dramione, not even canon), 3) there's just a lot of content about them (edits on Tiktok, video essays on Youtube). I was being fed so good.

I also happened to move on from Draco pretty quickly 😫🫠 Whenever I look at the actor now, I cannot see Draco anymore. It's worse for me because back then I really had a difficult time separating the actor from Draco. I prefer him looking like Draco. Otherwise, the adult version would be Coriolanus Snow.

Now Kylo Ren. Lord jesus take the wheel. See, this time, I was able to separate Adam from his character. I had no trouble watching interviews, random press conferences, even his SNL skits as Kylo Ren. I didn't cringe. I could try to watch his other movies, like The Last Duel, and just stare at him - because he's so fcking hot.

Adam looks so hot with the beard AND without; with short, mid, AND long hair.

---

Here's another catch.

For Dramione, the actors are so good friends in real life. They have pictures together from various events; they even hang out! But Draco and Hermione don't have canon content at all, because in the end, there's nothing between them, and Draco is not a significant character 😭

As for Reylo, the movies revolve around them. We got scene packs about them. Merch, posters, etc. The actors, however, don't even go to interviews together with just the 2 of them. Other sequel trilogy actors participate in those "games" we see on Youtube, like "guess what's in the box" or "things people google the most about this actor/character," meanwhile the 2 most important characters never get to even have 1 interview, or skit, or anything together 😭 Daisy is always being paired off with John or Oscar during the conferences, and she usually sits with them. Adam sits with the directors, or god knows who else, EXCEPT Daisy.

I've seen comments on Tiktok/Twitter/Youtube about how Daisy, like, stopped interacting/liking Reylo fanart, because of "SW" fans bashing, or saying smth bad.

I'm confused about the hate on Reylo, because in every trilogy, I noticed that there's always romance. The sequel may have been the first to showcase the enemies-to-lovers trope. But no. How utterly disappointing.

They killed off the last REAL Skywalker, and had someone else take the name. What makes it worse is that that someone is said to be a descendant of Palpatine. Sooo all those past 6 movies for what? 🤬☠️

---

Here's a palate cleanser.

STAR WARS crack part V [reylo is strong with this one as it should be]

[runesandmoons]

Photograph

Pairing: 80s!Tommy Shelby x 80s!Rockster!Reader

Summary: A concert he wasn’t interested in resulted in a photograph that consumed his mind.

Warnings: 18+, Tommy is a bit OOC here because he’s a SIMP (like a really big simp), alcohol use, smoking, smut, soft dom!reader and slightly sub!Tommy, pet names, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex

A/N: This is for K’s @runnning-outof-time​ Halfway to 2K celebration! I’m so glad I was able to write something for you as a way to celebrate your amazing self! I had fun exploring a different side of Tommy in a different era. I hope I did this song justice and that you’ll like it! Congrats again, love! You are so deserving of this! 🤗

A/N 2: I ran into a bit of writers block for the end of this fic, so if it’s rushed or not as good as the rest, please just overlook it 😫 Also, the reader’s hair is described. It’s not a specific color or style, but it is described as big, wild, 80s rock hair. I tried to be inclusive with reader, but I understand the description of her hair may not be as inclusive as normal. I wanted to portray the 80s rock scene, so big hair was a necessity. I am sorry if this takes anyone out of the story!

Word Count: 4605

Gotta photograph, picture of

Passion killer, you’re too much

You’re the only one I wanna touch

Tommy was only there because Arthur and John dragged him along. Something about keeping up their image and staying hip. He could care less. As long as he was left alone to drink, he didn’t care what happened around him or what his brothers did.

They were in a large bar with enough room for a stage and a few hundred people. Arthur and John were in the middle of the crowd preparing for the band to come on stage. The lights were already dim, signaling the show would start soon. Tommy took a long drag from his cigarette as he sat at the bar, a glass of whiskey in front of him. There were only two other people at the bar with him, everyone else was in front of the stage.

He was thankful for the solitude, having no energy to deal with the over the top crowd. As he sipped his whiskey, he heard a chord from a guitar, the cue that the opening number began their performance, the crowd roaring in response. He cringed.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like music, or rock music for that matter; he liked his own music, and he didn’t have time to discover a new band that he knew he wouldn’t care about. He only liked going out on his time and for his purposes, loathing when he was forced out by someone else, especially by John and Arthur.

He watched them as they banged their heads to the beat of the music, dorky grins on their faces. He rolled his eyes as he took another swig from his whiskey. Sure, some might say he was cynical, but he had a reason to be, right? He was the head of the Peaky Blinders, trying to keep his gang and his family afloat with a million things in his mind at once. And here he was at a loud rock concert with hundreds of people screaming in his ears, guitars piercing through his mind, and his brothers being a little too carefree. He couldn’t focus on anything but his whiskey, so he took another sip.

By the time the opening number was finishing up, Tommy had two more glasses of whiskey and three cigarettes. His head was feeling fuzzy, but he was used to the feeling. He preferred it over the headache he thought he would get from the music. John and Arthur made their way over to him when the opening number went offstage, the crew striking the stage and preparing it for the main act.

“What’d ya think, Tom?” Arthur asked, his arm around John’s shoulders. Tommy took another swig before shrugging.

“They were alright.” Truthfully, he didn’t even know the name of the band, or the name of the next one.

“Oi, Arthur! He’s had too many to pay attention!” Both men laughed at John’s joke, but Tommy sighed.

“Shut up, John.” He turned his attention to the bar, ready to signal the barmaid for another glass.

“This next band is all the rage, Tom. I think you should come out in the crowd with us.” Arthur was sincere, trying to get his brother on the same page. Tommy kept his back to them.

“I can see the stage just fine ‘ere. M’alright.” He finished his whiskey and raised his arm to order another one, his fourth. “Go on, boys. Enjoy yourselves, just like you always do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, eh?” John’s tone increased in volume as he stepped toward Tommy, but Arthur calmed him down, holding him back.

“It’s nothing, John Boy.” He lowered his voice for only John to hear. “You know how he is.”

A woman approached them, but her gaze was on Tommy. She was wearing tight clothing as she sauntered up to him. The look in her eye made her intentions obvious. He turned his head to her when her hand trailed down his arm, looking uninterested. She didn’t seem to take the hint.

“What’s a handsome man like you doing sitting at a bar all by himself?” She flashed him big eyes with a pout. Tommy opened his mouth, but John replied before he could, stepping closer to him.

“He’s not interested in having any fun. Too caught up in moping.” He slid his arm around the woman’s waist, whisking her away. “But I know someone you can have fun with.” As they walked away, she smiled and put her hand on his chest. Arthur shook his head and left Tommy alone in his solitude once more.

By the time he finished his fourth whiskey, the main band came onstage. He didn’t pay them much attention as they started their first song. Lighting up another cigarette, he placed his focus on smoking. The nicotine meshed well with the alcohol, washing out the volume of the bar quite nicely. His eyes closed as he took drag after drag from the cigarette, the smoke pouring from his lips as he slowly exhaled.

A woman’s voice made his eyes shoot open, only she wasn’t near him. Her voice came from the speakers. He finally turned his attention to the stage, swiveling on the barstool to face his body toward it. A woman was singing into the mic, swaying her hips as she performed a choreographed routine to the song. Tommy felt his jaw slack as his lips parted.

She was wearing tight, black leather pants, a deep-cut, red, baggy shirt that still hugged her in all the right places, and high heeled, lace strapped, black boots. Her hair was curled and teased to look blown out, almost resembling a lion’s mane with how large it was. As her lips came together to sing a note, he noticed she had red lipstick on. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

He watched her intently as song after song was played. She sang alongside the main vocalist, backing up his notes, and making them even better. She danced to the music, more intensely when she wasn’t singing, but when she was, she used her hips and arms in a way that made Tommy shift in his seat. She went all over the stage, having the time of her life and feeding off the energy of the crowd. You would think she was the main attraction with how they interacted with her and how she reacted under all that attention.

Tommy didn’t expect to see a woman in the band, much less her. He was enamored, watching her every move. Mesmerized by her voice, entranced by her movement, curious as to how she ended up in the band, even envious of the men on stage with her. He found that he was aching as he watched her hips move. His cigarette and whiskey were long forgotten, the cigarette sitting unlit and half smoked in the ashtray and his whiskey barely touched. All he could focus on was her, everything else a blur around him.

The mention of the band’s final song snapped him out of his trance. He looked around him in a panic. He wanted to burn her presence in his memory, but he didn’t have anything to do it with. Searching the walls of the bar, his eyes landed on a Polaroid camera hanging by its strap on a nail. He flagged the barmaid over and asked to borrow it. When she gave it to him, he turned to face the stage again.

He waited for her to come back to his side of the stage on the left. She flipped her hair as she sang into the mic with the vocalist. Tommy could see tiny beads of sweat on her forehead and collarbones, causing him to bite his lip. Standing up on the bars of the barstool, he brought the camera to his eye. He waited until she was further back from the mic to take the picture. As soon as she was, he snapped it, a bright flash going off as the Polaroid began coming out of the camera. He sat back down as he waited for it to develop.

He continued to watch her as the band finished the song and began exiting the stage. She blew the audience a kiss, and it made his stomach flutter. He didn’t understand why he was so intrigued by this woman. He had never felt like this, always the one in control, of everything. He was flustered, yet he felt this undeniable aching sensation. He wanted to know her favorite songs, what made her tick, what made her laugh; he wanted to know her intimately. But he didn’t even know her name, or the name of her band for that matter. As she walked off stage, all he knew was that he had to see her again.

****

I see your face every time I dream

So wild and free, so far from me

You’re all I want, my fantasy

Look what you’ve done

All I’ve got is a photograph

But it’s not enough

She smiled at him as she crawled on the bed toward him. Tommy was leaning against his headboard, legs straight in front of him, as he watched her. His bottom lip was between his teeth as she inched closer to him. Her hand made its way to cup his cheek as she brought her lips to his. Eyes closed, Tommy let her take control. Her tongue swiped his bottom lip, making him part his lips for a deeper kiss. He allowed her to explore him as she deepened the kiss, swinging her leg over his to straddle him.

He moaned against her as she sat on top of his hardened length, grinding softly against him. Her hands slid down his chest as she moved her hips against him, her head tilting back as moans left her lips. When he kept his arms in place, she looked down at him with a grin.

“It’s okay, baby. You can touch me.” She grabbed his hands and brought them to her waist. That was all he needed, exploring her body as he moved his hands across her, squeezing her hips, groping her breasts, pulling her beautiful hair. She quickly removed her bra, freeing her breasts for him, which he promptly focused his attention to. He kissed all over her chest as his hands gripped her ass, leaving soft bite marks, sucking and swirling his tongue against her nipples, and moaning against her at her reaction. She was pressing down on his length, grinding her core against him at a pace that made his head spin.

Soon enough she removed her thin, lacy underwear and removed his boxers so they were nude in front of each other. All Tommy could do was groan at the sight of her; she was his fantasy woman, not understanding how he was lucky enough to have her, to touch her.

She lifted him off the bed and pushed him to his knees, positioning herself in front of him so her legs were spread. His mouth parted as he stared at her glistening folds, hands automatically going up her inner thighs. She was leaning on her elbows as she watched him, a smirk etching her lips up.

“I know you want to taste me, so go on, sweet boy.”

Tommy didn’t hesitate, pushing his head in between her legs as he began lapping at her clit. She let her head fall back as the most heavenly moans he had ever heard escaped her. He groaned against her, the vibrations making her legs shake. He was throbbing by this point, desperate for the slightest touch, but he relished in her taste and getting to please her. He was usually so impatient in the bedroom, but with her, he would spend hours doing what she asked him to. Only for her.

Tommy worked harder than he ever has to bring her pleasure. He wanted to make her cum with just his mouth. He swirled his tongue in circles, in figure 8s, he moved up and down slowly, and then fast, he sharpened his tongue to a point, and he flattened it to swipe over every bit of her. He sucked her clit with barely any pressure and then some force behind it. He fucked her with just his tongue, pushing inside her and lapping at all she had to give him. He shook his head from side to side as he moved faster, and then he went slow again, using just the movement of his tongue. His arms were under her thighs so that his hands could rest on her stomach, his fingers trailing up to twist her nipples every now and then.

The sounds in his bedroom were unholy. Her arousal mixed with his spit sounded so wet as he pleased her. The moans she made were so loud they were echoing off the walls, causing Tommy to groan in response. He was moving his hips against nothing, so desperate to feel anything. When her fingers landed on his shoulder, he gazed up in her eyes, the sight a vision; him between her thighs, face absolutely soaked in her juices and his own spit, looking up at her through his long, black lashes.

“Be patient, pretty boy. I’ll please you soon enough.” He just moaned in response.

Her fingers went to his hair, twirling them to grip him tightly as she began moving her hips against his mouth. She was close to her release, spurring him on. She called him names he had never heard before: baby boy, her good boy, puppy, angel. She complimented him, calling him pretty, sweet, handsome, soft, gentle, words usually unassociated with him.

With a few more quick flicks of his tongue against her clit, she was cumming against him. She kept his head between her thighs as her hips moved sporadically. Her moans were long and loud as she unraveled. Tommy stared at her through his lashes, watching her throw her head back. He didn’t dare stop moving until she told him to.

When she came down, she lifted her head to meet his eyes, smiling. “You did so good, puppy.” With a gentle pull to his hair, she lifted his mouth off of her, his lips still parted as his chin was dripping with her cum and his drool. A total look of adoration was in his eyes as he reveled in her every word. He came to his feet with her guidance and leant down to kiss her when she pulled him toward her. She moaned as she kissed him, feeling just how wet his mouth was. Pulling away, she brought him back to the bed, seating him in the same position he was in before.

“Do you want to know what it feels like to be inside me, angel?” She was on top of him again, but she kept her core from his length, refusing him what he most wanted.

He nodded frantically. “Please. Yes, please.” She smiled down at him. He was so desperate to feel her.

“Don’t wipe your mouth for me. I want to taste myself as I fuck you, okay love?” She swiped a finger across his bottom lip before bringing it to her mouth, closing her eyes as she sucked. Tommy whimpered before mumbling a faint, “Yes ma’am.”

He continued to whimper as her hand wrapped around his aching length, stroking a few times before aligning him with her entrance. She slowly sank down, looking into his eyes as she did.

“I didn’t know you’d be so big, puppy.” They both moaned as she moved her hips against him. Her nails dug into his chest as she rose up and sank back down at a slow pace, taking in every inch. Tommy gripped his sheets as he hissed.

“Fuck. Feels s’good.” His eyes landed on her breasts as they began bouncing as she picked up her pace. “Can I touch you?”

“Of course you can, pretty boy.” He sat up to wrap his arms around her waist, burying his face in her chest. He began kissing her breasts again and focusing on her nipples. The extra stimulation made her increase her pace again, fully bouncing on his cock now.

He felt euphoric. She was so tight against him, almost like she was squeezing him. His hips stuttered as he wanted more from her. He left open mouth kisses on her breasts as his grip on her waist tightened. He didn’t know how much more he could take, feeling his release nearing. All the attention he spent on her and then finally getting to be inside her made him unable to last longer than normal. His whines against her chest must have signaled that.

“Are you about to cum, puppy?” Her hands were in his hair as she held him close to her. She increased her tempo, now slamming down onto his cock. The sounds of skin slapping and wet squelching alongside their moans filled the room. His “yes” was muffled against her chest. “Just hold on a few more minutes, sweet boy. I’m gonna cum with you.”

He nodded, resolving to wait for her, no matter how much he was throbbing, hurting, to cum. His fingers pressed into her back as he pushed their bodies as close as they could fit together. Her breasts were bouncing in his face as she rode him. She just kept moving faster and faster on top of him, chasing her own high.

Tommy had never had a woman fuck him so good. She was in total control. He just watched her in awe as she used him for her own pleasure - so wild and free on top of him. The world was hers and he would do his best to give it to her.

She brought her lips to his, kissing him sloppily and moaning as she tasted herself on him. Her hair fell against his face, completely enveloping him in her essence. She pulled away just enough to talk, her lips still close enough to his to brush against them.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it.” Her voice was like silk as she spoke. He tightened his grip on her as his cock twitched. “I’m gonna -”

“Mr. Shelby!”

Tommy’s eyes shot open to find she wasn’t on top of him. He looked across his bed. Empty. He wiped his hand across his face with a groan.

“Yes, Frances?”

“Breakfast is ready for you, sir!” She spoke on the other side of his door.

“I’ll be down soon.”

He closed his eyes, lulling his fantasy back, but it was lost - just another dream of the woman on stage. He had been having them a lot lately, each one becoming more and more intense. He lifted his sheets up to see his cock was hard. He would have to take care of that.

He turned his head to look at the Polaroid he took, stuck in a picture frame with a picture of his horse. The image he captured was perfect. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open, parted as she had just finished a note. One hand was on the mic, the other arm in the air as she sat into her right hip, framing her body perfectly. Her hair looked like it was in motion, flying around her face and shoulders. She looked like a vision, a woman made just for him.

His dreams were beginning to feel too real, making him long for this woman even more. Being able to see her on the photo was nice, but it wasn’t enough anymore. He had to see her again, had to speak to her, had to make his fantasies a reality. He had to touch her, get to know her, become hers in every way.

As he sat up in bed, he resolved to do just that. He would find out when her band played again and go to her show. He didn’t care what he had to do, but he was going to see her again and speak to her.

****

I’d be your lover, if you were there

Such a woman, you got style

You make every man feel like a child

You got some kinda hold on me

You’re all wrapped up in mystery

I gotta have you

You’ve gone straight to my head

He walked through the door of the same bar he was in a week before. He came alone, not wanting his brothers to interfere. He went straight to the bar since he had no interest in the opening act. Ordering a whiskey to calm his nerves, he looked around the area. The opening act was about to perform, and he was already wanting it to end, just so he could see her.

He soon grew impatient, pacing a small area next to the bar as he sipped his whiskey. As he tuned the music out, he began to think about her again. He was still trying to understand how he felt toward her. This was all a mystery as to how she consumed his every thought so quickly. He wasn’t used to being nervous around someone, especially someone he didn’t know. He didn’t allow himself to be drawn to someone or develop an attachment as he had no time for that with his line of work. It would just get too complicated, and he didn’t want to deal with the fall back when he couldn’t satisfy his lover like she expected.

He didn’t have time for any of the feelings he had, but here he was, developing an attachment toward a woman who didn’t even know his name. He wanted to be the one she came home to, to brag about her as much as she bragged about him, to care for her in every way possible, to know men desired her but he was the only one to please her. He wanted her to consume his life just as much as she consumed his fantasies. No one else would suffice now. She ruined him without a single touch.

Tommy almost didn’t notice that the opening act was leaving the stage, too lost in thought. His stomach did little flips as he realized he was minutes from seeing her again. He downed the rest of his whiskey and went back to the bar to order one more, hoping that drinking it would pass the time between sets. As he took swig after swig, time passed excruciatingly slow, but finally, her band came onstage.

His eyes were on her immediately as she smiled and began interacting with the crowd. She was wearing a similar uniform as the first night he saw her: tight, black pants, a white, semi baggy, low cut shirt, and black, high heeled, lace up boots. She had fingerless, red fishnet gloves on, and he could see her red, lacy bra through her top. Her hair was just as wild as he remembered, flying over her shoulders and across her face as she moved with the music. He swallowed thickly, trying to prevent himself from drooling at the sight of her.

As her band played, Tommy found himself smiling and nodding his head to the beat. He enjoyed watching her move across the stage and sing into her mic. He wondered what it would be like to be backstage watching her, catching winks and little smiles meant only for him. Or if she knew where he would be in the crowd, motioning and singing to him.

When he started recognizing the songs toward the end of the show, he moved back to the bar. Eyeing the Polaroid camera, he asked the bartender if he could borrow it again. On the off chance that he wouldn’t get to speak to her, he wanted another picture to add to his other one.

After the bartender loaned him the camera, he moved through the crowd to get near the stage. He wanted a closer shot of her. As he was only a small distance from her, he marveled at how much more beautiful she was. Her features were defined clearly, and she glowed under the stage lights.

He brought the camera to his eye and snapped an image of her. She had the mic stand in her left hand, leaning it away from her, with her mic in her right hand. She was smiling her bright, beautiful smile that made his heart soar. After the flash went off, he got the Polaroid that came out of the camera and tucked it into his jacket.

Deciding to stay where he was for the remainder of the concert, he watched her actions closely. She made him feel young and happy, childlike. He wanted the concert to last forever, but he had to remember why he came. As the final song came to end, he observed how she beamed at the audience when she walked off stage.

Tommy made quick work returning the camera to the bartender, and when the crowd began to disperse, he hung around, figuring maybe she would exit through the main bar area. There were only a few people left in the bar a half hour after the concert ended, with no sign of the band. He wanted to stay longer, but he was beginning to believe they had already left. Resolving to try again another day, he left the bar. As soon as he stepped outside, a voice stopped him.

“I saw you take a picture of me.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to the left to find her looking at him, arms crossed as she leaned against the building. She was smirking at him, almost like she knew the power she had over him.

Tommy chuckled, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah.” He offered her a sheepish grin. “How did you know it was me?”

“Well, when there’s only one flash in the audience, it’s pretty obvious. Even under all those lights.” She grinned. “I saw it last weekend too.” She pushed off the building, coming to stand in front of him. He swallowed, his heart beating faster. “I wondered if the mystery flash would happen again tonight, so I wore something special to entice it.” She brushed a finger down his jacket collar. “I guess it worked.”

He swallowed again, nodding as another nervous chuckle escaped his lips. “I guess it did.”

“Did you stay after to talk to me, sweet boy?” She looked up into his eyes, tilting her head a bit.

Tommy nodded. “Yeah. I-“ He stuttered, not expecting her to call him one of the names from his dream. “I wanted to ask if you wanted to get a drink with me.”

She chuckled. “Don’t you want to know my name first, sweetheart?”

Clearing his throat, he introduced himself. “I’m Thomas Shelby, but you can call me Tommy.” He offered her his hand.

“Y/N L/N.” She grabbed his hand, bringing it to her lips, kissing his knuckles lightly as she looked into his eyes. Tommy felt his cheeks heat up at the action. “About that drink…” She paused, smiling as she held his hand still. “I’ve got something else in mind.” She positioned herself so that her arm was through his, now side by side with him. “It should help release this tension.” As she said that she brushed her fingers across his chest, looking into his eyes with feigned innocence. “What do you say we go back to your place, pretty boy?”

All Tommy could do was nod.

[tommyspeakycap]

i need a whole ass drabble of the boys trying to get baby shelby to take a bath but she is just not having it. OR OR OR when she’s sick and tommy’s not home at the moment so she just cries until he gets home no matter how hard the others try to console her 😫

the baby’s favourite

“come on now, love,” arthur coos, bouncing his young sister on his hip in an attempt to calm her screams. the child only screams louder to drown out his voice and rubs at her tired, red eyes. arthur shelby doesn’t blame his youngest sibling for her screams. he imagines its very difficult for the 18 month old to express her feelings of sickness with a vocabulary limited to around 20 words, most of which are a variation of tommy shelby’s name.

he had to work today. important business, he said. which was why he left the sickly youngetser in the care of her elder siblings. each of them had sworn to be in the house the entire day, but most had flown the nest when her screams failed to stop after a number of hours. finn left hours ago, john left but has since returned and now emerges from the bathroom to alert arthur that a bath was ready. polly was on the phone to the doctor who promised he would come round tomorrow morning and ada had used to excuse of having to go out to get stuff to attempt to make something for dinner and had only recently returned to actually do so.

“it’s just a bath, sweetheart, eh? a bath sound good, yeah?” arthur attempts to place his youngest sister into said bath, only for her screams to increase violently in velocity to an extent that prompts him to immediately lift her body back to his. he doesn’t want to hurt her, even if it would help her. he never wants to upset or harm his baby sister. he couldn’t live with himself.

the fever ridden baby only continues to scream her head off, tears no longer leaving (y/n) shelby’s eyes due to her dehydration from the vomiting spell earlier in the day.

arthur attempts for a further hour - long after the bath went cold - to get (y/n) to sleep or take her medicine or eat something, to absolutely no avail. john tried bouncing the youngster on his hip for about twenty minutes before trying cradling her like a baby in shushing her to sleep, but that too got nowhere. everything had been tried by the time tommy pushed through the door sullenly, grunting with the ache in his shoulder from being thrown roughly to the ground during a fight that he had won.

“what the fuck?” he exclaims, his voice booming over the sound of the screaming child in the next room. “what’ve you’re lot done to her? is she alright?” he rushes in, shrugging off his coat and discarding it on the back of a chair as he hurried through the house.

the pain in his shoulder and the melodrama of his day is long forgotten, any complains about how annoying the coppers are dying on his tongue as his immediate care goes directly to his sister. his unspoken but definitive favourite sibling.

“we tried everything tom,” arthur insists, running a hand over his hair, “just wouldn’t stop cryin’.” tommy shelby beholds the sight of his youngest sibling in her bedroom, hair matted and messy, pink pyjamas ruffled, red faced, teary eyes, snotty and evidently ill as she continued to scream - cries broken only by a barking cough. “i got it,” the brunette mumbles, “just take this and bring me a cloth please, arthur.” he hands arthur his hat and the eldest disappears to get what tommy asked him to get.

the middle shelby brother and adopted patriarch of the family crosses the room to scoop his sister up, cooing sweet “i’m here’s” and “you’re alright’s” as he cradled the baby to his chest. immediately, the cries begin to quiet as the shelby baby is held by her favourite brother. small whimpers, chesty coughs and her wheezy breathing is all that leaves her as he bounces gently and slowly around the room. when arthur brings back the cloth, tommy sets his little sister on his hip and wipes away the tears and snot that she hadn’t already wiped on his shirt. the family listen in the next room as he tells (y/n) a story about some kind of princess, hearing the little girl mumble a sleepy “missed you, tom tom.” before she nods off to sleep.

about an hour later, polly goes in to see tommy laying on his back in the child’s bed, one hand under his head and the other on his sisters back as she lays half on his chest, half snuggled under his arm. she looks unbelievably peaceful for the first time all day, and tommy looks much less on edge than he usually does as he watches the child he’s come to love more than anything else on the face of the earth sleeping soundly and safely in his arms. “little buggar,” polly teases, “always knew you were her favourite.”