#before announcing it to the world bc he’s a sap

[nburkhardt]

After their first ever official album release, after getting a permanent address, Eddie flys out to Hawkins and just kidnaps Steve.

The only ones that know of the plan is his best friends and Robin.

Steve’s only confused for a moment before realizing what’s happening, he laughs and packs his things. Packs his life away in two suitcases and one duffle bag. He leaves a note behind for his parents, slips the house key in the mail slot and says one last silent goodbye to a house that felt too cold.

There’s goodbyes, promises of letters and calls and tears. They leave Hawkins and once they’re safely in the air, they’re giddy with excitement of their future.

They share a tiny apartment with Jeff in California, eat cold pizza for breakfast and help get Steve a job that allows him to travel with them during their first tour.

Eddie gets to live his dream and gets to live it out with Steve by his side.

This is technically a continuation of another little fic I posted based off Taylor Swift’s song Come Back Be Here.

Sorry it’s so short, my brain can’t come up with dialogue only descriptions. My bad.

Also ALSO! Just know that eventually Steve becomes an emt and they make a permanent home together. Robin ends up with them don’t worry 🥰

Permanent tag list under the cut

@spectrum-spectre @sunnythevampireslayer @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @estrellami-1 @cartercaptainofthemoon @strangersteddierthings

[plusultrachaos]

you requested t4t kiribaku prompts!! consider: their first impression moving into an apartment together, or maybe when they both break into the top ten heroes. just something where they’re together and celebrating a Large Accomplishment together!!!

okay so. this went more in the direction of awards ceremony (us bc i. am ignorant and dont have time for research) and the t4t is more subtext/knowledge of my hcs lol

Eijirou has and always will be fond of reflection. He loves the art of looking back on who he was and who he has become. And it truly is an art. 

So when they got the news that Katsuki was the first of their UA class to break Top Ten—that was all it was. He made it to Tenth place in the popularity polls, followed very closely by Mido and Todo—it whirled Eijirou into thinking. Thinking about when they were both teenagers being introduced to the world. The differences between their public coming outs; the way the public responded to their relationship being public news (not to any of their former classmates). 

Katsuki had called him a "fucking sap"and tolf him to get over it, that hed break top 5 in the next year. And Eijirou believes him. He has full belief that his partner can and will break the top 5 soon enough. 

But hearing Katsuki’s name get called while they are seated in front of the stage, decked out in the suits that Bakugou Mitsuki designed for them. Having the startling realization that this man that Eijirou has loved and taken care of through all of his (and their) changes, that he has watched grow from an overtly angry teenager, is making a name for himself, is overwhelming. 

It boils up in him until he is literally dragging a shellshocked Katsuki out of his seat, grabbing his cheeks, kissing him in front of thousands of people and cameras, and shoving him out toward the stage. He knows the cameras focus on his wide, proud smile as Katsuki walks up, but he pays them no mind. 

He pays them no mind because his gaze is stuck on his brilliant partner and the image of their teenage versions—not just Katsuki’s, but all of the infamous Class A—appears on the screen behind Katsuki and the announcer.

"Fuck you, Ei, for that, first of all. Second, this is something everyone knew was happening for months so I want everybody to erase this sight," He gestures to his red face before glaring at the cameras, "from their memory forever. This has been the goal forever. For the entirety of my class at UA. And this is a warning to the old fucks in the top ten right now: Watch your goddamn backs, cause it isn't just me coming for your spot." 

Katsuki doesn't name names, he doesn't say anything further before he exits the stage and comes back to Eijirou’s side. 

"Quit your fucking crying, asshat." 

[brokenjere]

bad in the bones (c.f) (part 2)

A/N: ahhh! Second part is here - let me know what you guys think in the comments or send me an inbox/ask bc I like talking to you guys 🥹🥹 hope you love it

Synopsis: first dinner in Cousins reveals some truths about the Fisher’s and Belly is convinced to make a change this summer

catch up here

I sit at the dinner table, sandwiched between Belly and Steven, and pick at the chicken that was on the plate in front of me. The conversation was bustling, especially between Jeremiah and Steven. You’d think that they never spoke during the other seasons, but I knew firsthand that wasn’t true. They just could not stop making jokes.

Laurel was sitting on one end the table and Susannah on the other and across from me, Conrad was slumped over, in his own little world, oblivious to everything going on in the world around him.

My stomach churns, not feeling really hungry but that could either be because I ate too many Twizzlers on the ride in or I was still suffering the heartbreak blues. “You okay?” Belly leans over and asks. I smile up at her and nod, shoving a piece of chicken in my mouth. She looks at me with pity and I knew she thought it was the latter and I hate that being a heartbroken, sad sap was a part of my personality now. I hate that that’s what she thinks about when she looks at me.

“So, Belly, I have something for you,” Susannah says, getting both of our attentions. She gets out of her chair, making us all watch as she grabs something from out of the kitchen. It’s a small, white envelope and she hands it to Belly. In gold letters scribbled on the front it reads: Cousins Beach Debutant Ball.

“Is this why you had to go to the country club earlier?” Laurel asks, making Susannah laugh and shrug. There was a country club here? Of course their was.

“What’s a debutant ball?” Belly asks, looking at Susannah. A scam. A show. A miserable excuse for people to put young girls on display. Laurel expresses my thoughts verbally and Susannah rebults, telling Belly that it was a coming of age. Like a bar mitzvah.

“It is not like a bar mitzvah,” Laurel scoffs. Susannah shrugs, accepting defeat.

“I’d really like you to consider,” she says, finally. Belly folds up the invitation and puts it down on the table.

“Debs are for sheep,” Conrad speaks up. It was the first time he spoke all dinner and everyone looks over at him. He doesn’t look up even after Jeremiah starts to take jabs at him.

“Didn’t you go last year? With Nicole?”

“Who’s Nicole?” Belly asks. I feel heat radiating off of her arms and Conrad looks up at her like she had no right to speak.

“It was after you guys left for Steven’s college tour. It doesn’t matter, I only went because Mom asked me to.” I remember that summer and how they came home early. Steven and his dad went off on a road trip to check out colleges and I remember being viciously jealous that his dad cared that much. I felt guilty for feeling that way when a few months later, Laurel and John announced their divorce.

The two brothers bicker back and forth before Susannah tells them to stop. I keep my eyes focused on the peas that I moved around on my plate, popping one or two in my mouth every few seconds. “Conrad quit football, you know,” Jeremiah says, getting in one final jab before Conrad throws his fork down on the plate, a crash reverbrating through the room. It bounces off the china cabinet on the other side of the room and everyones eyes widen as they watch him walk away.

“Was that really necessary?” Susannah sighs, putting her head in her hands, her golden hair falling in front of her face. I look at Jeremiah, finding out more about his personality in the last few moments than I had learned from all the stories Belly and Steven had told me. He was a jealous little brother.

+

My phone buzzes in my hand and I click it open: Mallory.

how is it?????

My fingers hover over the keyboard on my phone, deciding what words to use to describe my first day in Cousin’s so far. There isn’t a lot to say, really. Gorgeous, warm, a seaside dream. And then there were the boys. Gorgeous, warm, a seaside dream.

good. how is josh?

I want to kick myself the second I hit send on the message. Who cares how Josh is? Me, apparently. I did. He was in my thoughts during the rest of dinner, while I was in the shower afterward, and even now, as I lay in my bed and stare out the window at the ocean. I was hoping to drown in it, but I hadn’t even stepped foot in the sand yet.

ughhhhh, stop with him already. any cute boys?

Yes. I want to type. Two.

i’m not ready to move on

lame

I set my phone down on the bed next to me. I’m looking up at the white ceiling and trying to focus on the sound of the beach below me but I keep hearing his name. I love you. Please don’t walk away. Please come back.

My phone buzzes again: tell me more!!!

I type back a vague response about how the sky matches the blue of the ocean and how Susannah’s smile is just as pretty in person as in the photos that me and Mallory always used to stare at whenever we were at Aunt Laurel’s and I hit send, hoping it would saciate her hunger.

If I am the wild to Belly’s calm, Mallory is the tornado to my light shower. She is wilder, funnier, more outgoing, and certainly always the center of attention. I’m in her shadow while many would say Belly is in mine. Mallory always rode in the front seat and we rode in the back. She was always at the head of the table while we were on the side, passing the butter and salt back and forth while Mallory unfolded the drama around us.

I don’t get a text back, but there’s a knock on the door. Belly sticks her head inside and I sit up in bed, telling her to come in. “Nice pick,” she tells me. “This one has the best lighting.” She’s wet, her hair dripping down her back over an oversized t-shirt. I bet she has her swimsuit on underneath.

“I thought so, too.” She sits down next to me on the bed. “Night swim?” I ask.

She nods and laughs, pulling her hair to the front of her body. “Sorry. I should have asked you to come with,” she says.

“I probably would have said no, anyway,” I tell her. I probably would have agreed, but I didn’t want her to feel bad for not inviting me. After all, it was probably weird for her to have a shadow this summer and the last thing I wanted to do was put a damper on her summer.

“The boys said I’m not invited to the bonfire tonight,” she tells me. “They all just left and Steven said I had to stay in. The moms are getting ready for our movie night.”

“What? Who are they to decide?” I scoff, shifting in the bed, sitting up on my elbows. Belly shrugs and looks at me. Her eyes are pooling with tears and if she starts to cry, I don’t know that I would be able to hold myself back, either. So far, I had not cried. I did not cry when I told Mallory I’d be gone all summer and I did not cry when Josh texted me asking if it was true and I did not cry when he told me he would miss me but seeing Belly cry, might just do it for me.

“I told you, now that we’re older I get left out a lot more. I’m too young,” she says, using her fingers as quotes around the words too young.

“You’re one year younger than them,” I tell her, throwing myself off the bed and heading to the closet. Mallory insisted that I pack hot clothes. She told me, “you’ll never know if you’ll find a hot boy to occupy your time.”

I throw a blue dress at Belly and tell her, “get dressed. We’re going.” Her eyes lit up as she lifted the dress up. I grab a white one out of my closet, one a little more flowy than the one I gave to Belly but it was still short. Mallory was right, it was lame that I hadn’t moved on yet.

“Isn’t this a little short?” Belly asks, holding it up to her body. It ended right below her ass.

“Maybe it’ll make Conrad look,” I shrug.

I spin her around the full-size mirror in her bedroom and whistle as her hair twirls around her. “These boys won’t know what hit them.”

“And what about you?” She says, gawking at me. I wave her off and grab my shoes, putting them on to avoid the conversation. “How are we going to get out?” She asks. The bedroom door is closed, but she whispers as if the moms can hear us. Belly and I already went down and told the moms we were just going to spend the first night. Have a girls sleepover in Belly’s room, if you will. They dismissed us with a sad smile and we came back upstairs.

“We’ll sneak out,” I say. “You’ve never snuck out before?” I knew that was true. Belly would never have been caught dead sneaking out, but before this summer she never really needed to. “It’ll be fine,” I tell her, grabbing her hand. I make her carry her flip flops so the moms don’t hear them slapping as we walk down the stairs and I tip-toe in my sneakers down the wooden steps, moving so slow you could have fallen asleep by watching us.

To say that this bonfire was worth sneaking out for would be a lie. There were too many people here and the sand was littered with beer bottles and cups. Jumper was just as sleezy as I remembered. He tried to put his arm around Belly and I when we arrived, trying to flirt his way into some company. Belly’s too nice to ever tell him no, so I give him a fake smile and tell him to get lost before dragging her further down the beach.

She stops in her tracks, causing me to fly backward from the sudden stop. I give her a look but she’s looking beyond me, further down toward the fire. I follow her gaze to see Conrad with a girl between his legs. He has them up, his arms wrapped around his knees. A small girl, petite with a Red Sox hat on, was sitting between his knees laughing at a joke he made.

“Oh.” She nods at my unintentional words. “Do you want to go the other way?” I ask. What other way? The only way was straight ahead and that would be entering the snake pit. He sees us before she can decide.

Then, she does something I never would have guessed: she calls him out. “Who’s that?”

Conrad looks stunned too, as does the girl. She replies as if she’s being spoken to. “Nicole, and who are you?”

“I took her to the deb ball last year,” Conrad says. She is who he took to the ball. And here she is, between his legs. I feel the anger for Belly. Her anger is now my anger despite being able to feel it penetrating off of her skin.

“I thought you said deb balls are for sheep,” Belly spits her words at him. Nicole shifts and I grab Belly’s hand to pull her away before the fight escalates.

“God you’re such a brat.” His words are harsh. Not like they’re meant for a girl he’s known since childhood. There was a bitterness there only reserved for the people you love that have hurt you. I have heard that bitterness more times than I care to admit.

“Oh, shut up Conrad,” I tell him, stunning even myself. Belly looks at me but I ignore her. Me and Conrad stare at each other, unwavering.

Neither of us speak, so I walk away with Belly trailing behind me. I take her to the keg and pour her a drink. “Here,” I say. She takes the drink from my hand and stares at me. “What?”

“You just told him to shut up.”

“Like you weren’t thinking about saying it.”

She scoffs and then says, “yeah but I never would.” And then she laughs and I laugh with her because how could I not. “Did you see his face?”

“Who’s face?” I turn around and Jeremiah sticks his head between Belly and I.

“Cons when Yn told him to shut up,” Belly tells him, her eyes wide and a smile on her face. Jeremiah’s eyes basically bulged out of his head when he looked at me.

“You said that?” I nod, shrugging my shoulders. I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. He was just a boy. A stupid, stupid boy. “What are you guys even doing here?” He asks.

“We snuck out,” Belly tells him.

“You snuck out?” Belly nods. “Who are you and what have you done to Isobel Conklin?” He asks, a smile spreading over his cheeks as he pulls her into his side. Belly laughs and tries to shrug but she can’t.

“You don’t know me when I’m with my better half,” she says, winking at me.

“More like a bad influence.” Jeremiah winks, telling me he’s just teasing but I stick my tongue out at him anyway, rolling my eyes. “I’m glad you’re here,” he admits and squeezes Belly before he gets called away.

Belly chugs down her drink, barely stopping for a breath. I watch her as beer trickles down her chin and she wipes it away with the back of her hand. She hands me the cup and then gestures for me to refill it. I do. “Thanks,” she mumbles before taking a small drink of the freshly filled cup.

“You a heavy drinker now?” I ask, gently teasing her. But Belly was never much of a drinker. She had one or two occasionally at parties but never alone and never that much in such little time.

“He’s just so-“ she starts but then cuts herself off.

“So what?”

“So infuriating.” I nod as if I understand. “One minute he’s fine. We get along. I think maybe he even likes me back but then the next he’s canoodling with Nicole in the sand and telling me I’m a brat? What is that?” She drinks some more beer and I mirror her. “You know, last summer we were good. Great even. And now?” She shakes her head.

“Didn’t your mom say there was a vibe between you and Jeremiah?” I ask, trying to recall the conversation in the car on our way here. I was zoned out, staring out the window, picturing all the ways I could torture Josh with a pair of tweezers but I remember Laurel’s voice asking about Jeremiah and Steven’s outwardly disgust at the thought.

Belly waves me off. “We’re just best friends. Have been forever. He’s like my brother.”

“But if he likes you, why not give it a shot? Instead of pinning for Conrad when he acts like that?” It was just a suggestion, but Belly seems offended. She pulls back a little and furrows her eyebrows. I pretend not to notice and find Jeremiah in the crowd, his arm around a girl similarly to how he had his arm around Belly moments before. Maybe that’s why.

“Jeremiah doesn’t like me,” she says.

I shrug and drink my beer to avoid eye contact with her. She seems to let my comment go and continues her rant. “I just think if Conrad would get over himself, we could be fine again. I mean, out of all the summers, this so far has to be the worst he’s been.”

It just started, I want to say to her. But I don’t know Conrad. And I don’t know Jeremiah and who am I to give her advice about people and things I know nothing about. I don’t think I’d take any relationship advice from me right now as it stands, regardless.

My eyes find Conrad. He’s still in the sand but Nicole is gone. I don’t bother looking for her but it seems maybe Conrad is. Or he’s looking for Steven and Jeremiah. Or even Belly. His hair is in his face and he pushes it back with his hand and then he finds us by the keg and stops searching the beach.

He stares st me and I stare back as Belly talks. I see her hands waving in frustration through the corner of my eye and I nod like I’m listening but I think she’s too engrossed in her complaining to notice I’m not really paying much attention. Hate. Loser. Pain in the ass. All words she’s using to describe Conrad.

He gives me a small wave. And I wave back. He looks like maybe he’s about to stand up, but then Nicole comes back and she hands him a drink, taking his attention away from me and back onto her. “Are you even listening to me?” Belly finally asks, snapping her fingers in my face.

I look at her: all wide eyes and messy hair. “Yeah,” i lie. “I was listening to you.”

taglist: @marajillana

[februaryflowers]

the world in your eyes

41 (laughing/smiling until your cheeks hurt) + 47 (“we’ll get lost together, let me fall. don’t ever let me come down from your love.” - ten (dream in a dream)) + 57 (seeing the stars in their eyes)

prompt list

warnings: reader is in a blindfold in the beginning (it’s bc jun wants smthn to be a surprise though)

fluff, 709 words, junhui x reader

Jun ties a blindfold over your eyes before taking your hands in his and leading you over the uneven terrain. Grass tickles at your feet as he leads you further and further from the car. 

You take a careful step, but the feeling of soft grass against your skin doesn’t change, leaving you wondering where exactly he plans on taking you. 

You’re sure Jun has his cat-like grin on his face from his perceived brilliance. He claims that this will be the best date you’ve been on yet, and he doesn’t use those words lightly. 

The thought of his pretty smile makes your own grow wider and wider until it pulls at all of your features, even under the blindfold.

“What’s so funny?” Jun teases. 

“Nothing,” you sing-song. 

“Mmhm,” Jun tsks disapprovingly, causing your smile to grow even more until you can’t contain chuckles and your cheeks have a soft, dull ache. 

Jun slows his pace to squish your cheeks. “Who gave you the right to be so cute?” he mutters, causing your smile to falter. 

“W-what?” you stutter.

You have no doubt he’s grinning even more at your flustered state.

Before you can get an answer, Jun lets go of your hands. 

“Hey, wait!” you cry, only until you feel your boyfriend’s hands behind your head, untying the blindfold.

“We’re here,” he announces. 

In front of you lies a small picnic blanket under a navy sea dotted with bright, brilliant stars. The sky is completely clear and the moon casts a soft, romantic glow on the whole scene, making you feel as if you’re in a postcard. 

“Jun, it’s wonderful already,” you say softly, brushing your hand against the soft, checkered blanket. 

He sits across from you and moves the basket towards himself, pulling out and putting down various food items that you’ve happened to mention liking in passing.

You can’t believe he’s remembered all of them. There are some that you don’t even remember saying you liked, but he still somehow found them. 

Of course he remembers. He can’t imagine not remembering. He wants to commit your favorite things to memory, to be able to bring you joy, to make you smile your wonderful smile, just as you are now. Gosh, he will never tire of seeing it. Just a glance at it makes his own appear.

You talk animatedly as he dishes out the food to your fancy plates and miss how he nods along, a smile pulling at his lips from hearing you so enthusiastic about something. 

“Here,” he says when you finally quiet down, handing you a dish full of big helpings of your favorite foods. 

“I never took you for such a sap,” you tease. 

“I’m full of surprises. What can I say?” he replies mischievously. 

You offer a small smile at his words before looking upwards, towards the abyss of stars. Falling into a peaceful, relaxing silence, the two of you simply stare at the world around you, in awe that somehow you found the perfect match for yourselves. Your gaze flickers to his eyes, where you can see the beautiful image before you reflecting in them, before you look back up. The only thing you can think about is that the world looks even more magical through his eyes.

In the quiet, Jun’s clinking of silverware on the dishes catches your attention. You watch as he scoops a portion of pasta up and points it in your direction.

“Now you’re trying to feed me? You really have become a sap,” you kid. 

But you decide to entertain him and his newfound inner sap, leaning in to take the bite anyway.

It’s then that he pulls the silverware away and puts the bite in his mouth instead. You chuckle, amused, “It’s nice to know you haven’t completely caved.”

He quirks his brow at you. “What could you possibly mean?” he asks dramatically, feigning ignorance.

You’re about to answer when a rush of wind blows by, sending shivers down your spine and taking the words from your mouth. You go to rub your arms, but Jun takes note and slips off his jacket, placing it on your shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

“To our home,” you correct.

“Right.” He smiles. “Our home.”

[blossom-hwa]

valentine’s day + stray kids ✧

the enablers: @wingkkun​​ by virtue of their existence and @thepixelelf​​ bc of her @newskynet​​ valentine’s day prompt list (which can be found here! check it out :D) anyway you can blame them for my word vomits tonight tomorrow <3 happy early valentine’s day and I hope you enjoy these blurbs!

pairing: stray kids x gender neutral!reader (one blurb for each member!)

wc: 3.5k (total)

genre: fluff, lots of fluff, university!au

triggers: cursing

golcha version | the boyz version

SKZ Scenarios Masterlist | SKZ Drabbles Masterlist

1. “shit, what day is it again?”

when chan opens the door to a beaming you, he has no idea what’s going on. he still has headphones around his neck, there are definitely bags under his eyes, he hasn’t slept in maybe close to twenty hours, and there is definitely something important that he’s forgetting, judging by the nonplussed expression that has now slid over your face. 

“chan, when did you sleep last night?” you ask, stepping into his dorm. you’re holding something behind your back that chan’s craning his neck to see, but you catch sight and twist away. “hey, no looking.”

the knowledge that you have something is more than enough, though, to get his overly tired brain actually thinking. his eyes narrow. what the heck is he forgetting - 

oh. 

oh no. 

chan scrambles around for his phone as you look over, eyebrows rising as he pats his pockets. “shit, what day is it again?” 

you hold up your own phone, giving him an eyeful of your lock screen set to a picture of himself laughing into the camera. he isn’t focused on that, though - he’s focused on the words underneath the time that say “february 14, 2021.”

“oh my god, it’s valentine’s day.”

“no shit, sherlock.” you put a finger to his forehead and press hard. “i made reservations.”

“what? okay, no, i swear you didn’t tell me about this -”

“i didn’t, chan.” you smile, shaking your head. “it was supposed to be a surprise. and i knew you’d forget the day or something because you always do lose track of time - hey, don’t look at me that way, i even made a bet with minho on the way and i’m right - so i came early to force you to sleep for several hours before we go out.”

okay, that’s fair, but chan’s lips curve downward into a pout anyway. “i didn’t forget,” he protests. “well, i forgot today, but i still have something for you! i got it last week.” he looks around frantically, then drags a box out from underneath his bed. “here!”

a wide smile splits your face and you pull your own present from behind your back, a red-wrapped box that chan begins to open as you cuddle the teddy bear he’s handed over to you. “chan, you sap,” you say, words muffled in the bear’s fur. “god i love you.”

“and i love you too,” he replies, pulling out a box of his favorite candy. “kiss?”

laughing, you press your lips together once, twice before pulling away. “sleep time,” you announce. “no kisses until you’ve gotten at least three hours.”

chan all but lunges into bed, trapping you with him between his arms. “sleeping now,” he says, voice muffled into your shirt. “goodnight.”

“good afternoon, more like.” you smile anyway, stroking his hair. “but good night.”

18. “oh my god, this chocolate tastes like chalk.”

minho is about to lose his shit in this tiny hospital bed with the sterile white sheets and curtains barring sunlight from streaming on his body. back when his ankle wasn’t broken to high hell, he really hadn’t given the sun enough appreciation. after three days of almost zero movement, though, he swears he’ll actually go outside voluntarily once he gets out of here. 

the door opens. a head peeks in. 

ah. there’s his daily dose of human sunshine. 

a smile slides onto minho’s face as you come in, arms full of snacks and flowers. you place a bouquet of red roses on the little table beside his bed and dump the snacks onto his sheets. “happy valentine’s day, idiot boyfriend who broke his ankle just three days before today.”

minho scowls. “it’s not like i tried to.”

“i know. even you’re not that dumb.” you pat his head mockingly, laughing as minho’s scowl deepens. “sit up, idiot. here, i’ll help.”

he allows his frown to turn into a grudging smile as you help him sit properly in bed, careful not to jar his ankle before passing him one of the bags of chocolates in his lap. “jisung gave this to me for you and asked me to ask you if you would be his valentine.”

minho pauses in opening the bag. “what.”

“jisung for you.” you laugh. “his partner was right next to him laughing their ass off. try the chocolates.”

he picks one out. puts it in his mouth. chews. “oh my god, this chocolate tastes like chalk.”

“what - how the fuck do you know what chalk tastes like?”

“i don’t, what the fuck? i just imagine it would taste like this.”

you snort. “so my boyfriend first breaks his ankle dancing three days before we valentine’s, and on this romantic day i learn he’s definitely eaten chalk.” you sigh, snatching a bag of gummies from the sheets. “what a day.”

“i don’t eat chalk!”

“bet.” 

he opens his mouth to reply, but you cut him off with a kiss. “eat your chalk chocolate,” you direct when you pull away. “or jisung will get upset.”

“ugh fine.” he rolls his eyes. “but i’m only listening to you because i love you.”

“cheeseball.” you smile. “i love you too.”

20. “babe.” / “since when do you call me babe?”

grinning, jisung picks up the bouquet of roses you were about to hand him before falling to the ground in laughter. “these for me?”

“no, they’re for my valentine.” you snatch them back, still wheezing. “which was going to be you, but you ditched me for minho, so now i need to find someone else.”

“aw, come on.” jisung pouts, pursing his lips actively even as you try to hide the smile on your face by turning away. “y/n! y/n. y/nnnnnnnnn. y/n, look at me. please? y/n. babe.”

“what the - jisung - since when do you call me babe?” your half disgusted, half amused face sends him into hysterics as he glomps you in a hug, laughing into your shoulder. “hey, sung! get away! you’re drooling on my clothes!”

“am not!” jisung pulls away, trying to pout but laughing too hard to do so. you just looked so fucking funny. “and what’s wrong with me calling you babe?”

“don’t do it again.” you push his shoulder. “do not. you won’t like the consequences.”

“consequences?”

“one, you don’t get these flowers. i’ll put them in my own room.” you wave the bouquet in front of him. “two, i give chan the all clear to play ‘wow’ on his campus radio station.”

“you wouldn’t dare -”

“three, no kisses for a week.”

jisung falls to his knees. “no, no, y/n, my beautiful and wonderful significant partner, i will never call you babe again, please don’t sentence me the barren world of no kisses for a week just because of my idiot mouth -”

“jesus christ, jisung, get up. you’re making a scene.” you laugh anyway, pulling him up before placing a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. “i was just joking. but please don’t call me babe if you don’t want me to cringe to the next dimension.”

“done deal.” jisung holds his out his hands. “flowers?”

you roll your eyes, handing them over. he breathes in their scent, smiling widely. “they’re so pretty!” then he looks up and winks. “but not as pretty as you.”

at that, you laugh again, crushing the bouquet as you wrap him in a hug. “i love you so much, jisung,” you murmur into his ear.

his arms reach out to loop around your waist as he pulls you closer. “i love you too,” he replies, smiling.

for a moment, you two only stand, finding peace in each other’s warmth. then jisung’s mouth runs once more.

“you know, i wrote my lyrics for ‘wow’ thinking of you.”

“do you have to ruin every moment?”

14. “you’re seriously asking me out on valentine’s day?”

changbin doesn’t even bother to reply to the picture jisung’s just sent of the flowers his partner gave him. he’s too nervous, his stomach literally fluttering as he stops his motorcycle by the curb and wheels it into the shop.

“hi, welcome, what can i - changbin?” you raise an eyebrow. “did you seriously bang up your motorcycle on valentine’s day?”

changbin’s ears turn bright red. he knows it even if he can’t see them. you think he always comes here because something else has magically gone wrong with his motorcycle, but what you don’t know is that he’s been pretending things are wrong with the vehicle for months at this point just so he has an excuse to see you. 

and now it’s valentine’s day. the day he chose to fess up and admit how he feels and ask you on a date. 

heck. 

“nothing’s... broken.” changbin scratches his neck. “uh...”

both of your eyebrows are now high up on your forehead. “so why are you here?”

“i...” he coughs, feeling his ears flare even hotter. “i wanted - i wanted to ask if you -” he looks down, unable to look at you. “i wanted to ask if you would go out with me today. like. on a date.”

silence. he doesn’t have the courage to look up. 

“you’re seriously asking me out on valentine’s day?”

changbin shrinks behind his motorcycle. holy fuck, this was the worst idea, you’re about to reject him and his heart is going to shatter -

then you step forward, place a hand on the vehicle. “okay, that came out wrong.” you tip his chin up gently so he’s forced to look into your soft, teasing eyes. “what i meant is that i’d love to go on a date with you today. i just didn’t expect you to ask me out on valentine’s day. didn’t seem like a very you thing to do.” you pause. “though i guess considering that song you played for me last time, it isn’t that surprising.”

oh, god. on track. changbin wrote that thinking of you. 

“wait, seriously?”

he really just said that out loud. changbin groans, slapping his forehead. “why am i dumb,” he mumbles into his hand. 

you laugh, peeling his hand away with grease-covered fingers. “you’re not dumb, bin. just sweet.” as he melts from the use of your nickname, you wave your greasy palm in front of his face. “let me go wash and tell seungmin to close up early. i’ll be out in a second.” you grin. “looking forward to whatever you have planned.”

(later, when you wrap your now clean arms around changbin’s waist on his motorcycle, he smiles so wide it feels like his face is going to split.)

25. “i love you.”

with a relieved sigh, seungmin locks up the shop, wiping grease-stained fingers on a towel. despite the fact that he mostly only handles the register, dirt still manages to get everywhere, even when he tries to be careful. 

doesn’t matter. seungmin likes his job, likes it even though it’s a little hard to be independent from his parents after so many years of living off their credit card. the freedom is sweet, though - now he can learn what he wants, do what he wants, and best of all...

now he can date whom he wants.

seungmin smiles, running up to his dorm so he has just enough time to change and shower before meeting you. he cleans up quickly before grabbing the singular rose in a glass on his desk and racing downstairs once more, hair still slightly damp, to meet you in front of the building. 

god, you’re beautiful, standing against the backdrop of the afternoon sun. in the moment that you don’t notice him walking out the door, he runs forward, smiling, before engulfing you in a back hug. 

“hey - oh, seungmin.” he can hear the smile in your voice as you clutch his hands hanging around your shoulders. “you scared me!”

“sorry,” he says, pulling away to spin you around. god, looking into your laughing face, seungmin knows everything was worth it. he may have lived in the lap of luxury before, attending parties every other weekend and drinking the finest champagne while dressed in the most resplendent clothing (courtesy of the kim family empire), but luxury doesn’t mean much when he was missing real, true love, right? you were one of the first, other than hyunjin, to see through his cold facade and break into the warm heart underneath. 

as he hands you the rose, he’s glad, so glad that you gave him the courage to go head to head with his parents for the first time, to finally break away from their strangling control over every bit of his life. what did he need parties and designer clothing and jewels for, anyway? he’s still living, still able to support himself even if it means a little more work. and even if he’s tired, he has your lips to come back to, every day. 

“i love you,” he murmurs, kissing you softly, sweetly. “i really do, y/n.”

“so do i,” you breathe, smiling against his lips in reply.

12. “valentine’s day... that’s the one with the bunny, right?”

hyunjin kind of wants to hit you, significant other or not. judging by your shit-eating grin, you probably know exactly how he feels, but you keep your eyes as soft and innocent as possible. “no, i don’t know what day it is, hyunjin. isn’t it just february 14?”

“y/n.”

“hyunjin.”

he groans, sinking dramatically to the ground. “it’s valentine’s day.”

“oh. right.” you adopt a thinking expression, raising your eyes to the sky. “valentine’s day... that’s the one with the bunny, right?”

“y/n!”

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding!” you finally laugh, reaching out a hand to pull him up from the university quad. “hey, get up, hyunjin. you’re going to get your designer clothes dirty.”

shit, he is. hyunjin accepts your hand, dusting grass bits off of his shirt. “you’re so mean,” he whines. “to think i had a whole evening planned and all, just for you to pretend to forget the entire day.”

“ah, but i didn’t forget. i only pretended to.” you grin, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “and to prove it, i have something for you! close your eyes.”

eagerness and apprehension flooding his veins, hyunjin shuts his eyes. for a moment, he hears you digging around in your bag, and then you put something in his hand. “here!”

opening his eyes, hyunjin looks down to see a pair of elegant earrings in his palm. you made them, definitely - he can see the tiny mark of your initials etched in the metal of one earring, his initials on the other - and he smiles wide, so wide, all of your previous transgressions forgotten in this moment. “i love them,” he says, already unfastening the hoops currently in his ears to put the new ones in. 

“i thought you would. hey, let me help.” your fingers take the earrings, deftly inserting one into each ear. “perfect.”

“i have something for you two, but you’ll get it later.” hyunjin pockets his old earrings before taking your hand. “right now, i’m taking you on a date.”

“what, i have no say in this?” your eyes sparkle. 

“nope!” hyunjin laughs, swinging your arms in the air. “come on, i swear the evening’s going to be a lot of fun.”

“i believe you.” you stop him to kiss him once, softly. “everything’s fun with you, hyunjin.”

15. “shut up and kiss me.”

with the brownie box in his hands almost empty, felix makes every effort to dodge anyone who knows for fear that they’ll ask for one of the last few treats left inside. hyunjin took like five earlier, jesus christ, even when felix warned him he was saving some for you. ungrateful brat. 

thankfully, no one accosts him, and he makes it to your meeting place without interruption. there you already are, mindlessly twirling a bouquet of roses around in your fingers. as he approaches, you look up, and felix is (once again) blown away by the intensity of your smile. 

some people liken him to the sun. others, with his freckles, compare him to the stars. both, though, felix thinks are more proper descriptors for you and your lovely grin that’s as bright as the sun and the stars combined. 

“felix!” you stand as he comes closer, handing him the roses. he passes over the box of brownies and you screech in delight, taking off the lid and popping one of them into your mouth. “oh my god, it’s so good.”

“don’t talk with your mouth full,” felix scolds, smiling anyway. “do you only love me for my brownies?”

“maybe” is the cheeky reply. you laugh as felix reels in mock astonishment, placing a dramatic hand to his chest. “i’ve been betrayed,” he wheezes. “stabbed in the back by my one true love who turned traitor to our romance, how will i live -”

“hey, felix?”

he looks up. “hm?”

your eyes sparkle. “shut up and kiss me.”

your lips taste like chocolate, sweeter even than the brownie you just finished. felix puts his arms around you, rose petals brushing against your back as he holds you close, close, closer - 

“oh my god.”

a familiar voice makes felix pull away from your lips as he turns around. “jeongin?”

“nope, nope, nope,” the younger boy chants, eyes fully closed. “i saw none of that, jesus christ, come on, let’s go -”

too late, felix notices the person standing next to his friend, eyes also screwed shut. a smirk rises on his face. that must be jeongin’s crush, he thinks as they race away, the crush he’s been sweating over asking out for the last few weeks. 

“aw, man.” felix frowns, suddenly coming to a realization. “jeongin probably wanted to confess here.”

“he’ll do fine,” you laugh, tugging at his arm. “now get back here. we’re not finished.”

felix smiles, pulling you close once more. “no, we aren’t.”

6. “no one’s ever given me something like this before.”

listen. jeongin did not need to see felix making out with his partner right before he was about to confess. not only did it completely ruin his plans to talk to you in the prettiest part of campus, but he also has an image seared into his mind that he really does not need. 

“sorry,” he mutters, still unable to look at you. 

“it’s fine.” jeongin can hear the second hand embarrassment in your voice. “it wasn’t your fault. uh.” you pause. “you said... you wanted to tell me something?”

right. jeongin squeezes his eyes shut, desperately trying to erase the previous images from his brain. “yeah. i did. um.” he swallows, then forces himself to look into eyes that sparkle in the fading sunlight, eyes that he fell in love with so many months ago when you two first worked on that project together. 

thankfully, his words don’t fail him. “i just wanted to say i like you a lot, y/n.” jeongin keeps looking at you, even though all he wants to do is run away screaming. “as in... i want to ask you out. if that’s okay with you.”

silence. 

then you start giggling. 

jeongin frowns. why - 

“oh my god, jeongin.” you double over on the bench, laughing even harder. “i’m so sorry.”

his heart sinks as embarrassment begins to burn his ears. “if you don’t like me -”

“no, no!” you straighten, wiping your eyes. “no, it’s not about that. it’s just -” you snort - “oh my god, you wanted to ask me out in the garden, right? but felix was there, and... jesus christ. jeongin, i’m so sorry.”

his cheeks flare red, but he also lets out a major sigh of relief that your laughter wasn’t a rejection. “yeah,” he says, a grudging smile climbing onto his face. “yeah, that’s pretty much what happened.”

you wipe your eyes again. “sorry for laughing. i didn’t mean to make fun of you or anything. i’d actually love to go out with you.” you smile. “really.”

“well, thank god for that.” jeongin huffs, cheeks still hot. “or i would’ve gotten this for nothing.” he holds out a small teddy bear. “this is for you.”

“oh.” you take it, eyes turning soft. “oh. no one...” you swallow. “no one’s ever given me something like this before.”

jeongin’s heart melts, it really does, seeing the slow, shy smile spread across your face as you hold the bear close. “thank you, jeongin.”

“you’re welcome,” he breathes, hardly able to find his words as the sun creates a stunning backdrop behind you as it begins to set. “happy valentine’s day, y/n.”

you smile wide, so wide. “happy valentine’s day, jeongin.”

[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.”

[celiaxan]

Looks of Love (Saiouma Fic)

He wondered why no one else could see it.

See the way their gazes follow each other sometimes subconsciously. See one's glance linger far too long to be considered platonic. See how one of them looked when the other laughed. See the soft looks they would give each other when the other wasn’t looking.

Or: a really self-indulgent fic based on my obsession of how lovers look at each other bc it's so soft istg

(whole fic under read-more and ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30140310)

A/N: listen to reflections by the neighborhood for mood music!

Kokichi Ouma loved the way two people looked at each other when they were in love.

(Not that he would admit that to anyone, but still…)

No one else seemed to get it.

But the small lingerings of stares after the other has already looked away. The faintest traces of red still on their face, quickly fading to pink. The mouth formed the smallest of smiles, because how could you frown while around them?

It was sickening at first.

Then it became addicting.

No one (from his group of Rantaro, Miu, and Tsumugi) believed him when he called out Kaede and Maki.

He wondered why no one else could see it.

See the way their gazes follow each other sometimes subconsciously. See one's glance linger far too long to be considered platonic. See how one of them looked when the other laughed. See the soft looks they would give each other when the other wasn’t looking.  

Plus, the way Maki glared at him when he talked to Kaede said a lot.

He wasn’t even surprised when they announced their relationship to the class.

(And he won’t deny collecting some pocket cash from the group in the process, but it’s their fault for not believing him and betting in the first place!)

Kokichi doesn’t know when it started.

If he had to guess, he’d say it happened in two parts.

The first being his first real crush. He had just turned 13, not yet even knowing the urge of strong feelings, hormones controlling his every action.

Still being young, unknowing, and everything, he got over his other ‘crushes’ and ‘relationships’ as quickly as he got into them. He still hadn’t known what was wrong with scanning classmates in the room, picking the girl he thought was prettiest, or the girl that had helped him pick up his pencil, or the girl that he had thought reminded him of himself, a sort of kinship, and told his other friends that he liked them.

Oh, how he regretted leading on whatever poor girl he ‘liked’, just to run away from any sort of sign of confession. It was a cycle of sorts. Pick a girl, say that he liked her, run away or watch her confess to another guy, pick another girl.

Tiring. It was tiring.

He didn’t even remember half of their names.

He did remember someone though.

A boy in the corner that read books during recess.

Kokichi didn’t know his name.

All he knew was that the boy was interesting in his own little way.

It was the first time Kokichi actually looked forward to speaking to someone. It was the first time Kokichi had wanted to know more about the boy. It was the first time Kokichi actually waved someone down in the hallways when their paths met just to say hello. It was the first time Kokichi cared about another person’s opinion.

It was… the first time he felt his face heat up to something as weird as the boy finally saying Kokichi’s name instead of calling him ‘You’.

He still didn’t know his name.

Only the gleam in his eyes when he looked up at Kokichi.

But that only made him more interesting.

They talked quite a bit.

When Kokichi was kicked out from playing soccer with the other boys for cheating and bribing other players. When Kokichi purposely faked an injured knee to talk to him. When Kokichi brought him to his house to study (and oh, the little brat told his step-brother, Rantaro, his name, but not Kokichi).

He loved it.

The boy brought a puzzle one time for Kokichi, who mentioned that he liked them. He started bringing two grape juice boxes instead of one. They would read together. They would bring out harder puzzles. The boy somehow understood Kokichi, knew which part of the homework he would struggle with, even if he lied and said he knew it all.

The boy moved away.

Kokichi didn’t cry.

He wasn’t even sad.

But even he knew that was a lie.

Glancing at him, the boy told Kokichi he was moving. Kokichi had been so used to tossing away random friends, random girls, he thought that’d be the same, he was okay with it.

He wasn’t.

A year later, after a big realization (and six ‘Am I Gay’ quizzes), he told Rantaro.

Rantaro choked on his tea. “Oh, cool. That means I’m not the only gay in the family. But uh...”

“What, spit it out, dear sibling. I have to rob a bank in Russia later!”

“I already knew,” Rantaro continued, ignoring Kokichi’s arson plans. “It was kind of obvious after I met your little friend,” Rantaro suddenly raised an eyebrow, smiling into his tea. “Or boyfriend?”

Kokichi’s world shattered with another revelation. “He wasn’t my boyfriend! Also, I didn’t like him.”

Or did I?

“No, you totally did.”

“Did not.”

“Whatever,” Rantaro muttered as an end to that conversation.

Kokichi sat there in silence, contemplating. Finally, he started again. “How did you know?”

Rantaro hummed for a bit before deciding on an answer. “If I had to pick a deciding factor, it’d have to be the way you looked at him. Especially when you thought no one was looking.”

“Really?” Kokichi asked, suddenly interested. “What did I look like?”

Rantaro smiled one of his ‘I Know More Than You’ smiles. “Figure it out yourself.”

That was the first part.

Kokichi had forgotten about it for a bit after screaming curses of ‘ fucking asshole! ’ and ‘ your days are numbered, dusty bitch ’. He had never truly forgotten, of course, but instead, it was just pushed to the back of his mind.

But like most things, his problems were solved due to social media.

And TikTok.

Scrolling through gay TikTok, he saw a ‘gay couples through history’ one. Suddenly gaining his interest, he actually tried to watch this one.

Pictures.

Pictures of gay and lesbian couples flashing through the screen, both of the people looking extremely intimate.

But- their looks- the way they looked at each other. It was mesmerizing. Kokichi couldn’t get more of it.

It was a look of fondness, so soft, that he could feel the attraction through the screen. The photos themself were black and white, but their impact was still strong.

Kokichi looked at them and knew - swore on his life- that he wanted something like that. Small glances full of affection. It held so little but meant so much.

He had always thought that people looked the brightest when they looked at the one they love.

And the eyes.

The eyes were soft, dreamy looking, dare he even say- beautiful.

He wanted that.

He already gave that.

That was the second part.

“So, get it, Shumai? That’s how I called all the class couples before they got together! It’s because I’m super observational and very good at connecting these pieces.”

“...It actually sounds like you’re a sap.”

“What?! Shuichi, you’re so mean to me!”

Now, Kokichi was sitting in a classroom with his current crush, Shuichi Saihara, on the roof. Their hands almost connected on a desk.

And as Kokichi looked closer, Shuichi began looking increasingly nervous, like he was going to break something if he wasn’t careful enough.

“So, do you know where your friend, uh- ‘Boy’, you called him, do you know where he is now?” Shuichi asked suddenly.

“Huh? Nope, I don’t!” Kokichi responded. They were both drinking grape juice boxes. “Why, jealous? Have you finally fallen for me after all?”

Shuichi stiffened, moving the topic along more. “Then...what would you say to him if he was here right now?”

Sighing, Kokichi sank down in his seat, thinking intensely. “I don’t know. I would tell him I want to be friends again. Maybe if I was bold enough, I would tell him that he was my first gay crush.”

A small chuckle before Kokichi continued. “That’s got to be an honor! First crush from Kokichi Ouma himself!”

Shuichi laughed awkwardly. “Who knows. Maybe they’re closer than you think.”

“What’s got you so optimistic?”

At that, Shuichi stood up, and picked up some of his books with one hand, turning around to reach out a hand for Kokichi. “Take a guess?”

Kokichi only looked Shuichi in the eye as the sun shined behind him. A familiar pair of amber eyes with some sort of gleam shined down on him.

Oh.

And wow. How stupid was he to fall for the same person twice?

Not grabbing Shuichi’s hand, Kokichi stood up on his own on an impulse. “You-!”

The boy- Shuichi’s eyes sparkled with a familiar look. It was the look that Kokichi had seen variations of over and over again. It was a face Shuichi looked at him with the most. He felt foolish for not recognizing it earlier.

Shuichi interrupted him- because he’s the only one that can without being told off by Kokichi- with a soft smile and everything. “I also loved the way you looked at me, because... I looked at you like that too.”

[lexicals]

Jfc I am BUZZING what a fucking episode. The first part of this is mostly screaming tbh

I love happy juno but also grumpy juno is my favourite welcome back

I love how firm peter is with him in stopping him from spiralling? It's good

Rita coming into her own!! Learning lessons!! Growing up!! Yes!!!

SO MUCH INFO THOUGH. Dark matters wants the crime family and they want them alive and they don't know anything about two of them but!! Which two!!

You'd presume nureyev is one but..... who knows ahh

This is gonna be mostly screaming I have no time for coherent thought rn

Juno being protective over rita godd

Juno comforting rita while she's panicking ;;

OH HEY FUCK THE NAME? I MEAN LIKE IT WAS ALWAYS A POSSIBILITY BUT RITAAAA

Me thinking no surely he wouldn't have just abandoned them and breathing a sigh of relief when he hadn't only for my boy to DO THIS?? ET TU PETER??

PETER

NUREYEV

DESERVES

TO

BE

BULLIED

I'm not serious but my guy had BETTER have a good reason for this. I would hope it's a long con of some kind or SOMETHING but PETER

Anyway if these people know his name idk if this is either 1. Blackmail or 2. Maybe he didn't get away from brahma all by himself after new kinshasa after all. Maybe he had help and it's finally come back to bite him in the ass. Who knows but I'm fucking 👀 PETER.

MISTER WHO

Also. Robot kisses 🥺

ALSO. Juno just. Picking him up and carrying him out of the room fhshdhdgs

MAMA BUDDY SO ANGRY THOUGH. I thought this would be the case but ooof

LESBIAN WEDDING TIME THOUGHHH Buddy and vespa inventing romance once AGAIN

I mean I'm sad they're retiring (although depending on what nureyev is doing here this "last job" could be UHHHHH DERAILED) but!! Yes!! Married!!

Knife girlfriend will finally be..... knife WIFE

Juno sniffling in the corner like ME TOO BITCH THE FUCK. Secretly a sap as usual though mr steel I love you

I can't remember other things I just. So much happened. I'm gonna need to listen again at least a few times here

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Oh FUCK also rita!! "When someone tells you what they want you to call them that's what you call them"!! Penumbra said trans rights once again thank you kabert and also ms jones. Bless

Not a second listen yet but more Thots:

Rly good episode...... and the robot kisses were very cute...... but I had this thought in pt. 1 and again this episode that I'm kinda bummed out that we've kinda just.... skipped over all the relationship development for juno & peter. Like on the one hand it's kind of unavoidable to miss stuff given the series format this time around but on the other it feels like 2 seasons of build up for something that.... just happened offscreen :/ Idk I was hoping for a first kiss back together or Something

On the one hand while it seems like nureyev is being a Snake™ I'm gonna hold back on actually saying he's gonna betray the crew bc he's been so consistently set up as the villain, going back to s1 when juno refused to trust him all the way through to shadows of the ship, and he's never actually proven himself untrustworthy a single time through that? Like, murderous mask has been the only time he's actually fucked anyone over for his own gain, and he went back on that one pretty quick

Plus the fact that he's only claiming to deliver the four items they need, not the curemother itself - it could be that he's planning to wait until after they've stolen the curemother when they no longer have a use for them, or at least I'd like to think so peter I'm fucking Watching You

Another thought: you know how else you might describe a debt? Something you owe to someone because, maybe, they have something of yours? A fucking ransommmmm

Also, why! Did! That! Bot! Not! Self! Destruct! Or at least not straight away. It's almost like someone wanted them to get away in the nick of time. There's a part of me that's wondering if the fact that dark matters is under mysterious new management and the fact that nureyev has made himself what seems like a very powerful enemy are linked, but we'll see. Either way I think someone definitely facilitated their escape, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was whoever is holding peter's debt, using the crew as a tool to get their hands on the four items they want and keeping nureyev as a source on their progress

Looking forward.... other people have said this as well, but I don't think nureyev is ever going to be cast as a villain here. At the very worst, he'll do something well-intentioned but kind of stupid, and it's gonna blow up in his face. Like, it's gonna hurt, but I think he'll come out of the other side better for whatever happens. Currently, my thoughts are on whether or not we'll see a repeat of new kinshasa - a high-stakes choice between someone dear to him, and the choice he feels he has to make, whether that's other people's lives again or something else. Idk, maybe not, I'm just thinking about the theming of the series with the past always coming back to haunt them, the fact that he's been said to be at a crossroads back in man in glass, and the part in tools of rust where the ruby gives jet the opportunity to make the same mistake he did fifteen years ago, and he chooses differently. Tbh as usual I'm just excited to see how things play out however that is

ACTUAL second listen this time:

Rita redacted I love you so much x3 combo. I missed this earlier but it needs to be said

Rita says she found nureyev's name by hacking into buddy's notes on him and comparing them to the outer rim criminal records which leads me to ask the question how much does buddy know? Why would rita be checking outer rim records unless something in buddy's notes pointed her in that direction? I've had my suspicions that she knows more than she's saying for a while but 👀

Nureyev sounds so nervous/scared too...... :(

I had this thought on the first listen but didn't write it down: nureyev is so goddamn smart, like so smart, I don't think he gets enough credit for that. Also him saying "one problem at a time, like [buddy] would say" was - oof. Considering how much time he spends referencing mag's advice in man in glass, even if he's bitter about it, I think that reference is very telling on how he thinks about her

Love the way he skirts around saying they have to move sneakily dhsgjf. Also "only twice" I do love him

Juno joking about his track record on not dying.... oh he's come a long way though

The way that nureyev talks to rita throughout them moving around - he's kind of a natural leader (which, ouch), but also it's clear that he has absolute confidence in her, he doesn't ever doubt for a second that she wouldn't be able to do something. It's obviously a little unempathetic when she's so shaken and doubting herself but also he clearly trusts her almost as much as if not as much as juno, and I do love to hear it

Detective falco? 👀

Juno looking on the bright side! Not blaming himself! Saying maybe it's gonna be okay and believing in her! I cry!

Except for when nureyev is in danger though ): I love that this story never shows recovery in a linear way, that juno is still inclined to beat himself up even if he is better than he used to be. He's growing but it's always gonna be a work in progress!

The fact that dark matters seems to be moving entirely towards remote operation now? Like it makes sense tactically, there's no risk of expending agents in a fight, I'm interested if the writers are gonna dig into that considering the real-world state of drone use in the military and law enforcement

Calling their heist marks "radicals", it seems like dark matters is trying to keep track of or maybe capture rogue (or radical) elements out in the universe - things like the knife and the key, which is probably why they were after m'tendere, they themselves being a radical element. I wonder if this is what brought the crew to their attention in the first place; it's definitely why they want to capture them alive at least, they want information out of them on why they're collecting the same marks

They specifically say two radicals though, and potentially a third, depending on whether the book is counted as the third that might mean they don't know about the map at all, maybe

I mentioned this another time but I'm wondering Again if dark matters was behind the mysterious disappearance of all the theia soul chips except for juno's, esp with what rita said about the interface for the bots being like theia tech - experimental tech like that would deffo be considered a radical element and they definitely could have used it as a basis for these new bots

Peter........ he's in a ROBOT stop being HORNY

"Galaxy-class criminals" huh.

Someone else pointed this out elsewhere idr who but buddy's line that sometimes helping people means trusting them to help themselves despite your concerns, when paired with what's going on with nureyev is.... interesting

WOW buddy is mad though

I'm REALLY wondering how much she knows about what's going on tbh, especially seeing as her pov is probably up next. Aaaaa I'm gonna be yelling for the next however many weeksss

Jet sounds so happy about the ruby being fixed aw

Vespa so nervous about making her announcement AW

Buddy sounds so HAPPY AW

Peter starts laughing right at the end when vespa starts threatening juno which,, oh boy ): I rly hope everything turns out okay ;;

Rita saying that sometimes trying to help someone in pain is being selfish because you just don't want to look at the hurt is a really interesting thing to come from her considering her long-standing relationship with juno, huh

“Before the year is out” is a very vague timeframe, once again thinking that nureyev’s plan may well be to only hand the items over once the heist is done

Anyway once again AAAAA

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

Can you do jarchie where Archie gets jug sick bc he kissed him while he was sick?

(Comin’ at ya with some established QPR Jarchie!! First time doing something like this and I’m trying really hard to be as respectful as i can! Also sorry i took a huge break!!! trying to get back on track my dudes!!)

Jughead gently presses his body against Archie’s, wrapping an arm around his waist as he pulls him close. He’s desperate to share his warmth with his shivering, sick partner, in hopes he could take it all away.

Jughead hates it when Archie’s sick, because Archie doesn’t deserve this. Whenever he’s sick, the energetic, bright ball of sunshine that he deeply adored was reduced to an empty shell of who he truly was. If Jughead could make the sun shine for Archie every day, he would. But he can’t, because human bodies aren’t designed to stay in a constant state of health.

“Are you okay with this?” Archie croaks out, sniffling weakly.

Jughead smiles fondly, touched that even in his fevered state Archie is still looking out for him and his boundaries. Much of his life Jughead had internalised that no one would ever understand him and stick with him. He was proven very wrong.

“Yes. This is okay, anything to give you back your warmth,” Jughead coos softly, running a hand through Archie’s hair. Archie loves affection, he always has, and Jughead doesn’t mind providing. He himself doesn’t hate it, anything above the torso is cool. But Jughead is definitely very ticklish, so his answer is slightly complex.

Archie coughs weakly, the sound resonating from his chest. The other boy frowns at this, not liking this in the slightest. He’s still a little flabbergasted by it all, because Archie is never the first one sick. It’s always him, and this is a weird little surprise. But of course, Archie is much more active and sociable than he is, and Jughead supposed picking something up from one of the Bulldogs was going to happen eventually. He’s surprised it doesn’t happen more often.

Archie relaxes as Jughead wraps himself around him, a sweet and comforting sensation of warmth embracing him like a blanket. He smiles softly, his shivering beginning to subside as Jughead holds him like this. He coughs again, his body shaking with the force.

“I really appreciate you doing this for me, I..you’re being really sweet and I really like it,” Archie says quietly.

Jughead rolls his eyes fondly, “Oh really? Maybe I’m just a clone of Jughead, because Jughead can’t be sweet, he’s cold and cynical and bitter.”

Archie scoffs and lifts a hand tiredly to smack Jughead’s cheek gently and playfully, “Oh for fuck’s sake Jug, don’t ruin the pureness of this moment with your self hatred. Besides, you are a massive softie, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“True, i do enjoy cake and marshmallows and the like, I even prefer the softer fries,” Jughead jokes, only for Archie to huff and smack him again.

Archie begins to cough violently, burying his face into his pillow as he does. His body convulses as he coughs, body racked by it. He hacks, the coughs ripping out of his throats and eyes tearing, nose running. Jughead frowns and skilfully rubs his back to soothe him and coax out the coughs, and eventually Archie finishes.

Archie whimpers as he finishes, and Jughead can feel a new wave of heat radiate off of the boy. Jughead frowns and feels at his forehead with the back of his hand, unhappy with the results.

“I’m going to get you a new towel,” Jughead announces, shifting to get up but Archie whines in misery and flips over so that he’s facing Jughead. He protectively wraps his strong arm around Jughead’s waist and pulls Jughead close to him, snuggling up against his chest miserably.

“No, please, don’t go,” Archie whines, nuzzling his nose into Jughead’s chest.

“Archie, you know I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right back, I just need to get your fever down..” Jughead insists, trying to squirm out of Archie’s tight grasp. Even when he’s sick, Archie’s football practice comes in to play.

“Noooo, cuddle me,” Archie whines again, his grip tightening around Jughead.

“Oh, for fucks sake..” Jughead sighs, and when he looks down at Archie he sighs again, because Archie looks so miserable and Jughead can’t say no to him.

“Fine,” Jughead gives in, nuzzling Archie’s cheek with his nose and gently rubs at his shoulders to comfort him.

Archie pulls away from Jughead’s chest and looks up at him with twinkling, bleary eyes. He looks extremely feverish, and miserable, and those two combined means affection for Archie Andrews. Suddenly, he’s lazily leaning in and pressing a sloppy kiss against Jughead’s lips.

Jughead is a little alarmed, freezing up for a second but when the warmth spreads throughout him he relaxes and closes his eyes and lets it happen.

Once it’s over Archie feverishly pulls away, and suddenly and a sudden clarity washes over his eyes, and they’re widening in shock and realisation.

“Oh god, Jug, I’m sorry–” Archie gasps.

Jughead chuckles lightly, “Its cool. I’m cool with it, it was nice.”

“No–but now you’re going to get sick,” Archie panics.

Jughead rolls his eyes, “Eh, it was going to happen anyway. Besides, who knows, maybe it’ll give me a pass.”

“That’s not very likely.”

“Don’t rain on my parade, asshole,” Jughead jokes and cuddles him again.

“I’m still sorry, I just..”

“You what?”

“I just love you a lot, Jug. I’m sorry,” Archie whimpers pathetically, seemingly very small.

Jughead smiles softly and closes his eyes, relaxing, “What is there to be sorry about? There’s only everything to be thankful about. I love you a lot too, and it’s really nice to have someone looking out for me..it feels..nice, I never really had a lot of that growing up and I thought I would never have anything like it, but you’ve proven me very wrong.”

“Awh, Jug..” Archie smiles fondly.

Jughead makes a face, “Eugh, okay, enough of that. That’s as much of sap you’re getting today.”

Archie laughs heartily, a little chestily and twinged with congestion. He lets out a chorus of little chesty coughs to which Jughead rubs his back soothingly for him, and when he finishes Archie is exhausted. Weakly, he relaxes and closes his eyes to recover, but his body is too weary and sends him off to sleep and to another world. Jughead chuckles at this and fondly wraps an arm around him, closing his eyes and follows suit.

A day or two later, Jughead wakes up to a light itch in his nose. He scrunches his nose sleepily, pawing at it and tries to get back to sleep. However, the itching only for worse as it tickled ferociously on the inner lining of his nose.

Suddenly the weight of the situation kicks in and Jughead widens his eyes and tries to keep his hitching as quiet as he can. He rolls off of the air mattress and tries to quickly but quietly make his way out of the room as not to wake Archie. He nearly makes it when he trips over Archie’s mess, and manages to grasp onto the handle of the door, breaking his fall, but also breaking the silence.

Jughead hopes that Archie doesn’t wake up, and makes his way into the hall before releasing a series of explosions, trying his best to restrain the sound of his sneezes. It scrapes at his throat horribly, and it inflames his sinuses.

He’s exhausted at the end of it, his nose running as he tries to sniff and pretend it didn’t happen. He drags himself back into the bedroom, flopping back against the air mattress and pulling the covers around him a little tighter this time. It’s illogical, and not very Jughead, but he hopes that an hour or two more of sleep will do just the trick and end whatever this is.

Jughead is very wrong.

He wakes up an hour or two later to Archie suddenly lunging on top of him and viciously attacking him with cuddles. Jughead jolts awake, letting out a surprised gasp as his body temporally switches into panic mode.

“Archie!” Jughead groans, trying to push Archie off of him but he can’t quite wipe the fond smile on his face. Archie continues to assault him with hugs, and starts to shake the smaller boy.

“Then wake up!” Archie presses, causing Jughead to groan and take Archie’s outstretched hand and pulls himself up into a sitting position. His feeling of warmth and happiness is immediately yanked away from him when he becomes painfully aware of a reeling headache that makes him feel like he’s just been spun around repeatedly. The world tilts, and a wave of nausea hits him hard and Jughead tilts himself with the force of it.

Archie seems to notice and frowns, “You alright, dude?”

Jughead nods feebly, and blinks hard a few times to try and regain his composure and waits for the world to steady itself, incredibly stiff as not to upset his body any more, “Yeah, just a bit of a head-rush.”

“Alright then, go get yourself ready and head down when you’re done. I’ll go make some breakfast, dad’s gone to work early,” Archie says to him casually, standing up and heading towards the door.

“Ugh, you and cooking? I’d rather not get food poisoning, thanks, and you just got better, so,” Jughead teases.

Archie laughs heartily, “Its just cereal, Jug.”

An irresistible tickle spikes at Jughead’s throat, and his eyes water as he tries to hold them back, and the second Archie exits the room he stifles the breathy, chesty coughs into his elbow. He has to grip the air mattress to maintain balance and not to be completely doubled over by them. When he’s done, Jughead groans and forces himself to stand up, tipping over slightly as the world tilts again. He catches himself, hand shooting up to his aching ahead as he groans in pain.

He can’t let Archie know.

Jughead finally makes his way down to the kitchen and squints as the bright light assaults his eyes. He winces in pain as his headache intensifies, a small grunt escaping him as he blinks repeatedly.

“Jesus, finally,” Archie teases when he hears Jughead come in, back turned to him as he pours OJ into two glasses. He turns around and looks a little surprised.

“Nice bed head, Jug,” Archie observes as he passes the glass over to Jughead’s side of the table, taking his seat shortly after Jughead does.

Jughead slumps in his seat, feeling pretty out of it and just generally unwell. There’s a sickly feeling that looks over his entire being, he feels exhausted and unrested, like the last 8 or so hours of sleep didn’t just happen. He feels heavy and warm, and also cold in the most terrible way.

“Represents the state of my mind,” Jughead jokes, but his eyes are empty of his usual mischievous light.

Archie only scoffs and dips his spoon into his bowl to eat, only to look up at the sound of a series of breathy breaths and one drawn out inhale. He frowns as Jughead’s face scrunches up and body twists away from him and the table, snapping forward into his elbow with a tired sounding sneeze.

He raises an eyebrow.

Jughead sniffles boredly, barely acknowledging it. He thinks that maybe if he doesn’t act super defensive about it, Archie might just brush it off as a morning sneeze. Archie doesn’t press further, and Jughead holds back a smirk, proud of himself for upgrading his “im not sick” skills.

“Do you want to see a movie later?” Archie asks casually before he takes a sip from his OJ.

“I’m just really excited about not being sick and I just want to get out of the house, man. Also, the Bijou is cheaper on a Wednesday, tickets are only 5 bucks!”

Jughead chuckles at that, “Yeah sure, of course. What do you want to see?”

“I don’t know, you’re the movie buff.”

Jughead clears his throat, voice slightly hinted with congestion, “Well, there are currently two prime examples of cinema out currently. We could indulge ourselves in a masterful told, skillfully, thought provoking piece of fine cinema through Detroit or a exhilarating, wonderfully styled, white knuckling experience that is Logan Lucky.”

Jughead’s nose twitches for a second, and a brief moment of panic floods throughout him but he manages to recover, smiling brightly, “What say you, Archibald?”

Archie grins widely back at him, “I just got over my cold, I’d go with Logan Lucky for now.”

Jughead nods with approval, making mental note to go see Detroit another time, preferably when he’s feeling better. Then, Jughead is hit with the realisation that going to the movies with Archie was going to make hiding this from Archie pretty difficult.

But he wasn’t giving up, he could do this. Archie was pretty happy, and he hadn’t been the past few days and Jughead didn’t want to ruin this. He couldn’t bare seeing a frown on Archie’s face any longer.

Jughead wraps his denim jacket around him tightly, hoping that it would calm down his violent shivering. He lets out a shaky breath, trying to sniffle as discreetly as he could. He continued to listen to Archie tell his story about this Away Game with the Bulldogs, and while his friend was naturally endearing as always, his mind was blurred and infested by a feverish fog that made it hard for him to listen.

“Jesus Jug, its the middle of the summer and you’re still wearing a jacket,” Archie points out, red in the face from the heat, stretching out as they near the Bijou.

Jughead laughs a little at that, cringing at how wheezy he sounds, “Y'know, being such a cold person does come with its consequences. By the way, you look like a fucking strawberry, pal.”

Archie laughs loudly, and usually this sound is music to Jughead’s ears but it stings at his head, causing him to wince ever so slightly. Archie drapes a strong arm around his shoulder and pulls Jughead close to him as they approach the Bijou entrance.

Jughead can’t help the smile that spreads across his features as he enters the cinema. His eyes light up and twinkle as he looks around at the beautifully decorated cinema, lined with homages to classic Hollywood and fine cinema. He feels at home.

Archie presses his cheek against Jughead and smiles fondly, pressing a soft kiss against his partner’s hair, “I love taking you the cinema. Your eyes light up and it’s so adorable.”

Jughead scoffs and pushes Archie off him playfully, “Eugh, disgusting.”

He softens and bats Archie fondly on the shoulder, “Its how I feel when you play music. It’s..really nice.”

Archie smiles bashfully, ruffling Jughead’s hair, and a curl falls onto Jughead’s nose delicately. He pulls his wallet out of his pocket and begins to line up.

Jughead’s throat and nose begin to itch vigorously and simultaneously, pricking at the sensitive linings, eyes watering. He swallows awkwardly, frantically panicking on the inside.

He clears his throat, trying to keep his voice slow and steady as not to raise suspicion, “You go ahead and buy the tickets, I’ve really gotta piss.”

Archie makes a face and sticks his tongue out, and laughs, “Okay fine. Nachos and cheese and strawberry liquorice with a coke, right?”

Jughead begins to wheeze, turning his back against Archie so he can’t see him succumbing to his illness, flashing him a thumbs up as he quickly rushes to the bathroom.

Once he barges in he bursts into violent coughs, a chesty ring to his forceful explosions. He can’t seem to stop, tears streaming down his eyes as he continues to hack away. His chest is on fire. He can hear a faint wheeze to his breath as he is given a small window of time to rush and unravel a roll of toilet paper and hack violently again to get the phlegm out of his chest. Once he does, he throws that tissue away, and the tickle escalates to his nose where he shoves a fistful of tissues up to his face where he sneezes harshly three times.

He’s red faced and drained when he’s finished, falling back against the wall as he wipes away at irritated tears. He sniffles weakly, breathing heavily to regain oxygen in his system so he feels less faint. Then, his vision focuses and he looks up to see the eyes of Moose, staring at him with eyes of either disgust or concern–Jughead doesn’t care–and quickly leaves the bathroom to see the new Transformers movie, probably.

Jughead feels too sick to care about what Moose thinks of him. His feverish haze can’t even decipher what emotion Moose was staring at him with. Jughead groans and quickly splashes his face with water to regain his composure and try to look a little less like a ghost. He sniffles for good measure and makes sure to stuff both the pockets of his jeans and jackets with fistfuls of tissues.

When he leaves the bathroom he is greeted with Archie’s grinning face holding all of their food, though he looks slightly weary.

“Hey, what’s bothering you bud? You look the best when you’re happy,” Jughead says gently.

Archie blushes deeply and shakes his head, “Nah. I just saw Moose and he kinda scares me.”

“Archie, his name is ’Moose’, you’ll be okay,” Jughead jokes as he helps Archie take the food to their respective cinema.

“And your name is ’Jughead’,” Archie taunts playfully.

“Yes, and you aren’t scared of him, and he also happens to love you very much,” Jughead says, a little sluggishly and feverishly, but genuine all the same.

Archie blinked, surprised by this display of affection, but liking it all the same.

“Of course,” He smiles as they find their seats.

The movie is really good.

At least whatever the feverish haze is showing him is.

As the movie continues on a weak feeling begins to seep into Jughead’s bones and weighs down on him like a tonne of bricks. Jughead feels so heavy and sleepy and sluggish. He feels sick as a dog. He feels off, feverish and miserable.

Jughead takes his soda placed on the arm rest in between him and Archie and places it on the free one next to him and lifts the arm rest up. He snuggles next to Archie and tries to leech the warmth off of him, to soothe his trembling body. Jughead feels so miserable he wants to be held. In his feverish state the only thing he wants and needs right now is Archie Andrews.

Archie takes Jughead into his loving arms without any thought, wrapping one arm around his shoulder. He lets Jughead rest his head on his shoulder, to which he rests his head on top of Jughead’s in response. He enjoys this affection from Jughead, his viewing greatly improving. However, he suddenly frowns.

“You’re warm,” Archie whispers.

“I’m sitting next to a ray of sunshine, what did you expect?” Jughead rasps back, voice cracking, but smiling nonetheless.

Archie leaves it for the time being, although he can’t quite escape the worry brewing in his chest and Jughead can see it. They sit in silence for a while, and then suddenly Jughead is taking in a drawn out inhale, then he’s yanking a fistful of crumpled up tissues out of his pocket and shoving it against his nose. His body convulses and rattles as he stifles one, two, three sneezes into them. He lets out a breathy moan.

Archie blinks, and a clarity washes over him, then a look of uncertainty and guilt.

When the movie finishes, and the lights flicker back on Jughead stretches and grins in satisfaction.

“That was really good–I liked all the details added in, gave it a lot of depth,” He says happily, hoping to take Archie’s mind off of him.

Archie smiled and twists over to him and examines his face fondly, “I like details too. For example, the little freckles on your nose. They’re like little constellations on your face!”

Jughead flushes a little and rolls his eyes fondly, “Ugh, shut up.”

Archie runs a finger down the bridge of Jughead’s nose, and Jughead can’t resist the tickle that follows, and he pushes Archie off of him to sneeze twice into his elbow.

Archie lets out a deep sigh of guilt, “..Jug..I got you sick.”

“No you didn’t,” Jughead coughs.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice,” Archie says quietly, guiltily, unable to keep eye contact with him. He looks like a kicked puppy.

Jughead’s heart breaks, cupping Archie’s face and bringing it to him so he could look at him, “Hey, man. I don’t like this sadness thing on you. This isn’t your fault. Don’t be sad, buddy.”

Archie sighed softly, “How can I be happy when I’ve made you miserable?”

“You haven’t made me miserable. You make me so happy Archie. I’m sorry if I don’t..say it enough, but know that I’m always feeling it. Believe it or not, I love many things, Archie, but how particular my fondness of you.”

Archie can’t help but crack a smile at that, giggling softly, “Remind me to kick you in the ass if you don’t become a writer…but..I like it when you’re happy too, and you won’t be.”

Jughead gives him a reassuring smile, “This..doesn’t have to be miserable, Archie. You can take me out to ice cream and then we can watch Disney movies at home. What’s not to be happy about that? So..you in..?”

Archie grins, “Yeah, i totally am. As long as I’m with you.”

[wavenetinfo]

Fans of Harry Styles who weren’t able to get tickets to his intimate concerts later this year are in lucky as he just added 56 new shows to his world tour!

The 23-year-old former One Direction singer will be playing even bigger venues this time while stopping in countries all around the world.

Country singer Kacey Musgraves will support Harry for the U.S. and Canada dates while Warpaint will be touring with him in Asia and Leon Bridges will perform in South America and Mexico. Special guest for the European and Australian dates will be announced soon!

Tickets for the upcoming shows go on sale on Friday, June 16. Harry is using Ticketmaster’s Verified Fan program for the North American dates, so make sure to register before next Friday.

Click inside to see the dates for Harry Styles’ tour…

Harry Styles – 2018 Tour Dates

3/11/2018 Basel, Switzerland St. Jakobshalle 3/13/2018 Paris, France AccorHotels Arena 3/14/2018 Amsterdam, Netherlands Ziggo Dome 3/16/2018 Antwerp, Belgium Sportpaleis 3/18/2018 Stockholm, Sweden Ericsson Globe 3/19/2018 Copenhagen, Denmark Royal Arena 3/21/2018 Oslo, Norway Spektrum 3/24/2018 Oberhausen, Germany König-Pilsener-Arena 3/25/2018 Hamburg, Germany Barclaycard Arena 3/27/2018 Munich, Germany Olympiahalle 3/30/2018 Barcelona, Spain Palau Sant Jordi 3/31/2018 Madrid, Spain WiZink Center 4/2/2018 Milan, Italy Mediolanum Forum 4/4/2018 Bologna, Italy Unipol Arena 4/5/2018 Mannheim, Germany SAP Arena 4/7/2018 Birmingham, UK Genting Arena 4/9/2018 Manchester, UK Manchester Arena 4/11/2018 London, UK The O2 4/12/2018 London, UK The O2 4/14/2018 Glasgow, UK The SSE Hydro 4/16/2018 Dublin, Ireland 3Arena 4/21/2018 Perth, Australia Perth Arena 4/24/2018 Melbourne, Australia Hisense Arena 4/27/2018 Sydney, Australia Qudos Bank Arena 4/28/2018 Brisbane, Australia Entertainment Centre 5/1/2018 Manila, The Philippines MOA Arena † 5/3/2018 Singapore Indoor Stadium † 5/5/2018 Hong Kong Hong Kong Convention and Exhibition Centre † 5/7/2018 Bangkok, Thailand IMPACT Arena † 5/10/2018 Osaka, Japan Kobe World † 5/12/2018 Tokyo, Japan Makuhari Messe † 5/23/2018 Buenos Aires, Argentina DirecTV Arena ♢ 5/25/2018 Santiago, Chile Movistar Arena ♢ 5/27/2018 Rio de Janeiro, Brazil Jeunesse Arena ♢ 5/29/2018 São Paulo, Brazil Espaço das Américas ♢ 6/1/2018 Mexico City, Mexico Palacio de los Deportes ♢ 6/5/2018 Dallas, TX American Airlines Center * 6/7/2018 Houston, TX Toyota Center * 6/9/2018 Ft. Lauderdale, FL BB&T Center * 6/11/2018 Atlanta, GA Infinite Energy Center * 6/12/2018 Nashville, TN Bridgestone Arena * 6/15/2018 Philadelphia, PA Wells Fargo Center * 6/16/2018 Toronto, ON Air Canada Centre * 6/18/2018 Boston, MA TD Garden * 6/21/2018 New York, NY Madison Square Garden * 6/24/2018 Washington, DC Verizon Center * 6/26/2018 Detroit, MI Little Caesars Arena * 6/27/2018 Indianapolis, IN Bankers Life Fieldhouse * 6/30/2018 Chicago, IL United Center * 7/1/2018 St. Paul, MN Xcel Energy Center * 7/3/2018 Denver, CO Pepsi Center * 7/6/2018 Vancouver, BC Rogers Arena * 7/7/2018 Seattle, WA Key Arena * 7/9/2018 Sacramento, CA Golden 1 Center * 7/11/2018 San Jose, CA SAP Center at San Jose * 7/13/2018 Los Angeles, CA The Forum *

8 June 2017 | 11:34 pm

Just Jared

Source : Just Jared

>>>Click Here To View Original Press Release>>>

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