#but god knows what or how this ban is going to be spun in political agendas

[buttercuparry]

See I don't know if I should support the ban of The Kerala Story or not. On one hand it acts like a catalyst that further tries to incite hate and divide on communal and religious lines. It absolutely is a propaganda in a atmosphere where islamophobia is rampant and where the nationalist hindutva freaks are constantly looking for anything and everything to justify their hate. But my question is won't this ban be politicized and used as "see! They want to hide something! That's why they are suppressing our voice and banning the film under the guise of secularism!" Etc etc. Besides what about a free media? But then again after what people have done with The Kashmir Files, where the violence that happened was exaggerated and the exaggeration then got used to instill a feeling of being at war with a religious community, it doesn't take much to conclude that the Kerala story too is a work of the same political genre. So I personally don't know what to say. Like in the US you have copaganda. Is it better to ban those shows? Or to let it run but form your own educated decisions.

Can it even be compared because in India it is a propaganda against a community and the resulting boiled over pots would be riots and targeted assaults on the people of the community

[spectralscathath]

Skinny Vanilla Latte

Mikaela is the world's nicest customer, and Yuu's heart absolutely Does Not go 'doki doki' whenever he comes into the cafe for his standard order. Anyone who says otherwise is entirely incorrect. (Mikayuu but Coffee Shop AU)

Commissioned Mikayuu oneshot for @fyrecrackeruwu

Ao3 link, ff.net link

“Peppermint mocha, extra whip, for Lacus!” Yuichiro called out, trying to remember his customer service smile even though he knew his eyes said ‘I’ll kill you’ to every person in the café. Narumi just had to go and get a new job, like the traitorous bitch he was. Being a lifeguard wasn’t even a real thing.

Narumi’s absence left the Moon Demon Café down a barista, and because Shinoa and Kimizuki were banned from interacting with the general public, Yuu had been the only one they could shunt from the kitchen into front of house.

Fuck this job. If he didn’t need it so badly he’d have tossed his apron in Guren’s stupid face to get rid of the shitsmug smirk.

“Hi, welcome to the Moon Demon Café,” he turned to the next customer. “What can I-” oh my god. Don’t pause keep talking. “… I get you today?”

Holy SHIT someone call Heaven because an angel had gone missing. Seriously, the customer standing on the other side of the counter was the prettiest guy Yuu had ever seen. Not to be corny on main, but this was the first time Yuu had ever thought ‘eyes like sapphires, hair like spun gold’ had ever felt like actually applicable metaphors for someone.

“A skinny vanilla latte, please?” Pretty Boy said with the utmost politeness, and Yuu remembered that breathing existed and so did brain functions.

“Of course, can I interest you in any of our specials today?” He put on his best grin, writing down the coffee.

“No thank you, just the coffee.” Pretty Boy kept smiling, already having his card ready to pay because clearly this guy was Mr Perfect Customer.

“Sure thing, can I get a name for this order?” He barely held back from tacking a pet name onto the end, but he managed. Someone get him a medal.

“Mikaela. Mika works though, please don’t try spell ‘Mikaela’.” Pretty Boy- Mika’s- smile became slightly glassy, with the wartorn eyes of someone who’d had consistent misspellings of their name throughout their life.

“Mika it is,” Yuu grinned at him and scrawled it down. “I’ll have that ready for you in a jiffy.” Why the fuck did he say ‘jiffy’.

Mikaela snorted, bringing a hand up to cover his smile. “Sure thing.”

Yuu smiled and started up the coffee grinder, his cheer instantly evaporating away when he heard the sound of an empty grinder. Where were the coffee beans kept again? Shinoa better not have moved their location to fuck with him.

“It’ll be just a sec,” he forced a grin at Mika, getting a shrug in return. Customer seemed chill, cool. He reached under the counter to find empty air, instantly ducking down to check. Nothing but coffee residue from the bags. Welp.

“Hey, Kimizuki?” He yelled at the back.

“What?!”

“Where’d the coffee get moved?”

“You think I know?! Figure it out yourself, dumbass! I’m cooking!”

Yuu’s eye twitched and he counted to ten in his head to prevent himself from leaping through the overpass to wring Kimizuki’s neck. “Of course,” he grumbled. “Let me just pull some coffee beans out of my ass, that’s how we run things here.”

There was a soft chuckle and Yuu blanched, realising that shitfuck his sarcastic grumbling might have been a little too audible. He whipped around. “Uh- sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

Mika hid his laughter behind his hand again, blue eyes glittering like sapphires. “No no, it’s fine. Don’t worry.”

Yuu relaxed a little bit, kinda starstruck by the mirthful twinkle in those eyes. “I’ll just find you the coffee, give me a moment.” He spun around, hunting through every cabinet he could until he managed to find a dark roast with ‘hi Yuu’ scrawled on it in purple glittery ink. Shinoa and her fucking gel pens.

He started making the coffee properly this time, mentally promising that he would commit first-degree murder and get away with it the minute Shinoa showed her rat face again. He waited for the coffee machine to do the job and wrote Mika’s name on the takeaway cup, pausing before thinking to himself ‘fuck it’ and adding his phone number. He was gonna take the shot, especially since Mr Gorgeous had laughed at his sarcasm.

He finished putting it all together and smiled as he handed it over. “Skinny vanilla latte for Mika.”

“Thank you,” Mika grinned and pulled out a cup sleeve, slipping it onto the cup and completely hiding Yuu’s number. Yuu’s smile cracked. Fuck.

“Uh-” But Mika was already walking away after dropping change in the tip jar.

“Thank you!” He waved goodbye, the door closing behind him with a little jingle.

“You’re… welcome.” Goodbye gorgeous. Guess Yuu’d never see him again.

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

It was with great surprise that Yuu did in fact see Mika again, this time over Mitsuba’s shoulder as she did the ordering and customer talking while he just made coffee after endless coffee. Fuck rush hour holy shit.

He tried to catch Mika’s eye in-between frothing up milk and shaking cocoa powder over a cappuccino, green catching and locking with blue for the barest second before Mika smiled widely and gave him a little wave, a fancy-looking camera hanging around his neck. “Hi Yuu. Good luck with the rest of your shift, I hope it calms down a bit.”

“What, this? It’s no problem!” Yuu bragged, before he caught the side of his wrist on the milk spout and bit back a curse. Always with the burns.

“See you next time.” Mika grabbed his coffee, oblivious to Yuu’s plight, and walked out the door, again emptying some coins into the tip jar before he left.

Mitsuba turned to Yuu, blonde twintails bouncing with the movement. “You know that guy? He’s the nicest customer I’ve had yet. I hope he becomes a regular.”

“Yeah.” Yuu nodded. “Me too.”

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

Mika did, in fact, become a regular. Which was awesome.

Every Wednesday and Friday like clockwork he’d show up, order his skinny vanilla latte to have there, pick a booth, and do stuff on his laptop. It was pretty cool, aside from the fact that Yuu couldn’t write terrible pick-up lines on the latte glasses.

That was Plan A of ‘Operation: get Mika’s number’ thwarted.

Plan B was to write it on the napkins, but then the problem was that Mika didn’t order food. Currently Yuu was on Plan C, which was Plan B but better.

Mika walked in with his laptop bag and his camera-holding thingie, waiting patiently in line until he was at the counter. “Hi Yuu.”

“Hey Mika. The usual?” Yuu gave him a charming grin.

“That’d be great, thank you.” Mika beamed. It was really pretty.

Yuu had to take a second to recover.  “Easy, one usual coming up. Do you want to try a muffin to go with it? On the house, between you and me.”

Mika looked like he was considering it and for a moment Yuu’s hopes were rising, rising higher- “Thank you for the offer, but I already ate. Just the coffee, please.” And down those hopes fell, dashed against the rocks and crumpled like wretched Lucifer, cast from Heaven into the pits of hell.

“Sure thing. Give me a shot if you need a refill.”

“Will do.” Mika smiled at him, paid, and pottered off to go take a seat.

Yuu watched him go, noticing that he was wearing thigh-high boots what the fuck that wasn’t fair. That was illegal, that had to be illegal.

“Uh, sir? Sir? Can I order now?” Someone rang the bell and Yuu snapped back to reality, looking at the man in the- what the fuck was that a fucking cat? It looked like this man had lopped off the skull of a white tiger and mounted it on his head what the actual fuck. Yuu really hoped it was fake, he desperately fucking prayed.

Okay, goodbye Mika, hello Crazy Customer of the Day #309.

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

“Afternoon, Mika, the usual?” Yuu grinned at him, the café a bit quieter than usual. Maybe this time he could get a good conversation in while making Mika’s coffee.

“Yep, and also an English Breakfast tea, no sugars. I hope that’s not too much trouble.”

“None at all. You meeting a friend here?” He hoped it wasn’t a date. His attempts to try give Mika his number through shitty pick-up lines could not be foiled so easily.

“You could say that.” Mika smiled cheerfully, offering his card. “On debit, please.”

“No prob. He here yet?” Yuu looked around, not spotting any new faces.

“He said he’d be by in a few minutes. I’m surprised there’s not a rush, normally this place is quite busy. I thought getting a table would be harder.” Mika looked quite concerned at that.

Yuu waved it off as he finished putting in the docket. “It’s pre-midterms week. Everyone’s panic-studying, ordering pizza in, all that stuff.”

Mika chuckled. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m on top of my studies then, or else I might have had to miss out on the best coffee on campus.”

“Wouldn’t want that.” Yuu shot him a finger gun and a wink, before wondering if he’d overdone it. Luckily, Mika seemed to find it hilarious by how his smile went supernova and his laugh bubbled out of him.

“Definitely not. Thanks again.” Mika placed some coins in the tip jar before he went to the booth he always tried to sit at, pulling out his phone once he sat down.

Yuu watched him go and set to work on making the drinks, wondering if he should try make a food platter. Counterpoint to him trying to woo Mika through good food was the fact that Kimizuki was a snotty bitch who would kill him if he gave out even more free food, crushes be damned.

And yeah, Yuu could totally throw down with Kimizuki, but Mitsuba would tattle about it if there was a fight and he’d probably lose his job.

He’d just have to make it the best damn coffee in existence.

He was halfway through making the tea when a man walked in, and Yuu had to stop and stare for a sec because while yes, he was very fucking gay for Mika, he still had eyes.

It was when the total hunk sat down in front of Mika that Yuu felt his bout of ‘he’s pretty’ turn into entirely rational jealousy. Was Mika dating this guy? It took a special kind of hotness to pull off a braid and dyed bangs, Yuu could admit.

He put on his customer service smile as he carried the drinks over, rampant envy broiling in his veins. He set drinks down, being extra delicate and polite with Mika’s coffee and blanking out the other guy entirely. “here you go, Mika. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks. Crowley, this is Yuu, the barista I mentioned. Yuu, this is my dad, Crowley.”

Yuu practically heard the record scratch sound. Dad?

His next thought was along the lines of ‘oh thank god, Mika’s still possibly available’, and he was starting to realise he may be desperate. “Nice to meet you, Crowley.”

“You too,” Crowley grinned back with a touch of a British accent curling around the words, red eyes twinkling in amusement. “Thanks for the cuppa, luv.”

Yuu nodded before tuning him out again and giving another smile to Mika, going around to clear some other tables and already plotting his next move. Fingerguns and winks were now on the table. Mhuahahahaha.

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

“So, Mika, how’s the photography?” Yuu struck up a conversation as he cleared away the latte glass, taking advantage of the restaurant’s quiet to try and kickstart a deep meaningful conversation that he was absolutely going to fill with stupid jokes.

“it’s going well,” Mika smiled, saving the photoshop file on the screen. Clearly he’d lost a file once by accident and saved every program with the vigour of a spartan warrior ever since. “Are you interested in photography?”

“Actually, I’m studying psychology,” Yuu grinned. “Gonna go for a masters if I can once I’m done with this, then eventually you’ll have to address me as Dr Yuichiro.”

Mika’s smile sharpened slightly. “A PhD, huh?”

“Thinking about it.” He shrugged, trying to look humble when he was anything but.

“I think Dr Yuichiro’s got a good ring to it,” Mika smiled slyly, and oh no that wasn’t fair he was not allowed to make it sound so sexy.

“You’re the first. Kimizuki said I shouldn’t be allowed near people,” he grinned.

“And you work the register?” Mika laughed.

“Used to work in the back ‘til Narumi up and ditched us to ‘follow his dreams’,” Yuu told him conspiratorially. “I’m the only one of the kitchen staff who can reliably not scare away customers, so I got shunted here.”

“Maybe I should thank Narumi then, if he got me such a good barista,” Mika smiled. “You’re not scary at all.”

“How dare you, I’m terrifying,” he joked.

Mika scoffed, sapphire eyes sparkling. “As terrifying as my cat.”

Yuu let out a theatrical gasp, balancing his tray on one hand as he clutched his heart. “I think I liked you better when you were a polite customer.”

Mika blinked innocently at him, a challenge curling at the edges of his toothy grin. “Am I not anymore? Shame.”

What a brat. Yuu smirked at him in answer. “Well, I can’t be rude to customers, so I’m legally required to say no.”

“Only legally? Not morally?” Mika rested his chin in his hands as he leaned forward on the table, his photoshop file left entirely forgotten.

“Morally I can say whatever the hell I want as long as it’s not said in front of consumers.” Yuu winked.

“I guess you’re treading on thin ice right now, huh?” Mika bit his lip in affected concern, a prominent pearly canine catching for a moment, and Yuu’s mind went fucking blank. “Best be careful then. I wouldn’t want my favourite barista to go jobless. Right, Yuu-chan?~”

“R-right.” Yuu stuttered for a moment as he tried and failed to come up with literally any kind of flirty remark in reply, getting zero zilch zip from his flatscreening brain. Head empty no thoughts. “I’ll get you a refill, then?”

Mika’s smile screamed ‘cat who caught the canary’. “Don’t keep me waiting, Yuu-chan.”

He nodded and scampered back behind the counter, taking a minute to settle his racing heart. He heard a tapping sound and looked at the overpass into the kitchen, Kimizuki rapping a spatula on the counter.

“You’re pathetic.” Kimizuki’s scornful gaze was only amplified by the glasses he wore.

Yuu flipped him off. Fuck Kimizuki.

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

Yuu steeled his nerve as Mika walked in, refusing to let his crush pull one over on him again. Shinoa hadn’t let up since Kimizuki had told her, and Yuu was getting real tired of every whipcrack hand motion she was sending his way.

Mika smiled very innocently as he walked up to the counter, blue eyes bright and oh-so-breathtaking. “Hello, Yuu-chan.”

Little bastard.

“Good to see you too, Mika,” he grinned, resting his elbows on the counter. “Here for your usual, or are you thinking of switching it up?”

“Hm,” Mika tilted his head like he was considering it. “Now that you mention it, maybe I should try something out. How about something a little sweeter this time, Yuu-chan?”

“I think you’re sweet enough already,” Yuu flirted cheesily, watching Mika’s eyes widen a touch. That’s right, he could flirt too. All that ‘Yuu-chan’ business had no power over him now. “But sure, hit me up with what you want to try.”

Mika’s eyes sparkled delightfully, a challenge in his smile. “What’s your poison, then?”

Yuu raised a brow. “Well, I’m a black coffee kind of guy-”

“Because you grind so fine?” Mika interrupted him, like he didn’t just say the sexy pick up line for Yuu.

He gave Mika a Look, Mika merely batting his eyes back at him. “Double shot, nothing extra.” Maybe a bit of hazelnut when he really needed a pick-me-up. “That’s my coffee.”

“A ‘keep me up til two AM’ kind of guy, I like that.” Mika snickered.

“Stop it,” Yuu cautioned. Only he was allowed to use terrible puns like that.

“Make me,” Mika downright dared him, leaning over the counter a little more.

Yuu grabbed his chin and looked him in the eye, a spark of victory gleaming in his emerald gaze. “Keep it up and we’ll see where it gets you, gorgeous.”

Mika’s pupils dilated.

Yuu smirked at him and let go, picking up the docket sheet. “So, coffee order? You’re holding up the line, babe.”

Mika beamed, a smile like spun sunshine. “You know what, I think I’ll go for my usual after all. But maybe next time I’ll be a bit more daring.”

“Sure you will.” Yuu winked at him. “Later, beautiful.”

Mika laughed as he went to his favourite booth, Yuu internally high-fiving himself as he went. That went excellently.

Okay. Next time he’d ask him out. Next time for sure.

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

Today was the day. It was absolutely the day. Today for sure.

He handed Mika his coffee, got ready to say ‘I love you give me your number’, and chickened out when he realised that was absolutely not the way to ask and would instead plant him straight in ‘ultra creep’ territory.

Next week. Next week for sure.

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

Yuu looked up from wiping down the counter, groaning as Shinoa came in. “Aren’t you meant to be on your day off?”

“Well, yes,” Shinoa smiled far too innocently, and Yuu’s hackles went up with suspicion. “But my dearest friend has been telling me ALL about his new favourite café, so I had to come by and see it.”

“Shinoa, you work here.” Yuu glared at her.

“He doesn’t know that,” she smirked, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I never say names, my darling Yuu.”

“I never agreed to you calling me that.”

“I don’t care.” She swanned up to the counter, propping herself up on her hands and tiptoes. Yuu scowled as she smeared her hands all over the area he’d literally just wiped clean. “Now gimme free coffee.”

“Fuck off. Employee discount only and even then I’m debating making you pay full price.”

“You’re so mean,” she pouted. “And when I’m buying for my friend as well. I think you’d like him, as much as a big meanie like you can like anyone.”

“I like people, I’m not Kimizuki,” he rolled his eyes. “Who’s your damn friend?”

“Oh, you might know him.” Her evil grin came back full-force, making her look downright demented. “Why don’t we see if you can guess from his order?”

“Do you know how many customers we have?” Yuu snapped a tea towel at her hands. “Hands off the counter, you’re probably infested with something.”

“Boo you.” She huffed and raised her hands, twiddling her fingers as she did. “Anyway, I want a multi-mega mocha milkshake with extra sprinkles and four shots of coffee. Oh! And whipped cream. Lots of it.”

“You’re going to die from a caffeine overdose and I will film it.” He wiped the counter down again out of spite.

“Maybe so, but at least I’ll die not hopelessly pining for some boy who takes, oh, what was it now?” She tapped her chin, looking deep in thought. He didn’t buy it for a second, especially not when she turned a vicious smile onto him. “Oh, right, skinny vanilla latte. Large.”

He wondered what the hell kind of expression he made that had her cackling like the wicked witch she was. “You gotta be joking.”

“Nope, and remember, on the cup for that one, my friend’s name is Mik-ae-la~” She sounded out the name, taking too much joy in it. “And make it fast, sweetcheeks, he’s going to be here soon.”

“I hate you with every blood cell in my body.”

“Make sure to put one of your cute little pick-up lines on that now,” she winked. “I’ve been reading them whenever I take out the trash. You’re so desperate it’s cute. Now shoo shoo, make me coffee, coffee man.” She flicked a hand at him, revelling in the power that a customer had. Shit like this was why she was banned from interacting with the general public at work.

“Sure thing. I’ll bring your drinks out to you,” he forced out through a smile, teeth grinding together as he gritted them. His eye may have twitched. He wasn’t sure.

She twirled around and skipped to her seat, spinning her favourite little trinket in her hand and making the green and orange lights on it flare up like she was at a rave. He tried to stare a hole through the back of her head before he set about making her the drinks she ordered.

Mika. Mika was friends with Shinoa. It was a testament to how in love he was with that guy that knowing Mika willingly hung out with Shinoa did not become an immediate turn off. He liked her too, sure, for whatever was left of his sanity’s sake, but she was still a pain.

He heard the little bell above the door jingle and glanced up, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Mika waving at him. “Hey Yuu,” Mika grinned, sounding way too proud of himself.

“Hey Mika,” he smiled back, unable to stop himself from getting all soppy at the edges. “Skinny vanilla?”

“You bet,” he winked at Yuu and sauntered off to sit with Shinoa, the two of them immediately starting up some sort of gossipy conversation judging by the hand motions and expressions.

He looked down at the drinks he was plating up, took a deep breath, and furiously scribbled a puntastic pick-up line and his number on the napkin under Mika’s coffee. This was it. He was going to do it.

“I am not a coward,” he muttered to himself, picking up the tray and carrying it over. “That was a multi-mega mocha milkshake with quadruple shots, extra whip, and sprinkles, and a large skinny vanilla latte?”

“She’s having the deathshake.” Mika pointed at Shinoa, who fluttered her eyelashes at him.

“No problem.” Yuu set the drinks down, trying to ignore how he could hear his heartbeat thundering in his eardrums like the bass beat of a good metal concert, keeping on a smile that was at this point reserved only for Mika. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Will do,” Mika reached for a packet of sugar and dumped it into his coffee, picking up his spoon before his hand froze, sapphire eyes tracing over the wickerscratch handwriting on the napkin.

Are you an espresso? Because you’re a shot to my heart. Call me?

Mika blinked up at him, Yuu frozen in place with the sort of calm that only came from blasting beyond panic and landing in the cool grey apathy of total nerve-ridden shutdown.

Shinoa snorted, the sound snapping Yuu out of his quiet reverie. “Uh- I mean, unless you want to kinda- not to be a creep or anything, but we could-” he paused when Mika put a finger over his lips.

Mika’s smile was soft as silk. “I like movies?”

“Movies. Right. I’m off at eight?” No way no way no way-

“Eight sounds great,” Mika’s grin became a bit toothier. “I’ll meet you out front?”

“It’s a date?” Yuu smiled hopefully.

Mika grabbed the front of his apron and kissed his cheek. “You bet it is.”

“Great!” He gave him a thumbs up, practically floating back towards the counter with a sunshine smile all his own.

He heard Kimizuki scoff from the overpass at him. “What coffee shop fanfiction bullshit is this?”

Yuu ignored him, too happy to even care. Best workshift ever.

[avengerscompound]

Can We Keep Her? - Giving Away, Coming Together

Can We Keep Her? - A Stucky Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count:  2675

Warnings:  Fluff fluff.  There’s a wedding.

Synopsis: After an accident outside the Avengers Tower Bucky and Steve take you in to patch you up. What follows is a life none of you expected.

Giving Away, Coming Together

Steve straightened Bucky’s tie, his hands shaking a little. He thought he’d been nervous at their own wedding, but it was nothing like how he felt now. Bucky’s hand closed on his, holding it against his chest as he tilted Steve’s jaw up, so their blue eyes met. A smile played over Bucky’s lips. “Such a worrier,” he said, his voice deep and gentle. He leaned in and Steve closed his eyes savoring the feel of Bucky’s soft lips brushing against his. He’d shaved this morning and the familiar scruff was missing, letting him feel the softness of his lips, and the small hint of his tongue flicking out to taste him.

He gently pulled back and rested his forehead on Bucky’s. “I can remember being in intensive care with her after she was born like it was yesterday. How can she be getting married?” Steve asked.

Bucky smiled and ruffled the back of Steve’s hair. “Because that happened twenty-four years ago,” he joked. “Now she’s an all-grown-up Avenger who wants to start her own family. It’s time that we let her go.”

Twenty-four years. Twenty-four years of watching his children grow. From changing diapers to lullabies. Scratches and bruises. First days of school. Graduation ceremonies and Avenging. They weren’t little kids anymore. He had never wanted to turn back the clocks as much as he did right now. It had seemed like the blink of an eye and he hadn’t had the chance to appreciate them enough.

Not that he wasn’t proud. He was so proud. Of Rebecca. Of all of them. Anthony had managed to work his way through both an undergraduate degree and a mechanical engineering postdoctorate. All while still working for the Avengers. He had moved out of the tower and taken up residence with the California Avengers.  He was working with the West Coast Avengers team and in research and development for Stark Industries. Sarah had studied business management and fine arts and had even spent four months in France studying chocolate making. She was still living at home and had started working in the chocolate shop. Rebecca had studied politics at Columbia while she also worked as an Avenger. She now had taken on Avenging full-time when she graduated. During all of this, she stayed both faithful and close to Alex. They both had been living together in their own place in the Tower since she’d graduated.

Today they were getting married and Steve wasn’t sure he was ready.

“We’ll still be her dad you know?” Bucky said, running his hands along the top of Steve’s jacket. “She lives two floors down. You can go give her a dad speech whenever you want.”

“I know. I just…” Steve said and shook his head.

“Don’t wanna let your little precocious girl go?” Bucky said. “But it already happened. This is just the party. And we love Alex.”

Steve sighed. “You’re right.”

“For a change,” Bucky said. “Let’s go see our girl in her dress.”

You slid the zip of Rebecca’s dress up and smoothed down the black tulle overlay on the back of her skirt. “Turn around. Let me see.”

Rebecca spun around and you took a step back and took her in. Her dress was black with intricate black lace embroidery making the bodice, and black tulle over an eggshell ball gown skirt. Her hair was up, and her makeup was done so her eyes were smoky and her lips are dark red.

You felt tears prick your eyes and you waved your hands helplessly. “Oh my god, Becca.”

“No. No, mom,” Rebecca said, coming over and hugging you. “No crying. You’re banned.”

“I don’t know that I can promise that,” you sniffed.

“Are you ready, Becca?” Sarah asked. She and Anthony were being her bridal attendants. She wore a navy blue A-line dress with a full skirt that ended just over her knees and had a black lace overlay and ribbon belt.

Rebecca took a deep breath in and let it out. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

The three of you made your way into the living room to find Steve, Bucky, and Anthony waiting for you. Steve was wearing a medium grey three-piece suit and Bucky a black two-piece. Anthony stood out the most. He wore a Navy blue brocade suit. The pattern shimmered a little in the light. They all stood as you stepped into the room. You could see the love radiating out of Steve and Bucky as they looked over their daughter.

“Becca, you look so beautiful, honey,” Bucky said, coming over and kissing her cheek.

“Thank you, dad,” she whispered.

Steve approached her and wrapped her in his arms tightly. “I am so proud of you,” he said.

“Okay, dad. I’m just getting married. Chill out,” Rebecca choked out. “And you’re gonna break my ribs.”

He chuckled and let her go. “Okay. Sorry, sorry.”

Your group went downstairs and got into the two vintage cars waiting for you that drove you to the Morningside Castle on the Upper West Side. When you made your way into the internal courtyard you took your seat next to Sam and Rachel, while Steve and Bucky stood back with Rebecca, Sarah, and Anthony.

There was a large group of people seated and standing around the stairs where Thor was standing. Alex stood just in front of him wearing a white brocade suit with chunky heels. Their black hair hung over their eye and they wore thick black eye makeup. Standing beside them were two of their friends, one dressed in a blue suit that matched Anthony’s and the other in a dress that matched Sarah’s.

As you took your seat the string trio started playing ‘Marry You,’ by Bruno Mars. Anthony walked down the aisle first followed by Sarah. When they were standing in place to the right of Thor, Rebecca began walking down the aisle, arms linked with Bucky and Steve. Alex’s eyes lit up as soon as they saw her. When you turned to see Rebecca you could see the same joy and love reflected in hers and it made your heart feel so full it hurt a little. They were so in love and they were going to face the exact same issues you, Steve and Bucky had faced.

Rebecca came to a stop in front of Thor and she and Alex faced each other, unable to hide the smiles on their faces.

“Friends!” Thor bellowed. “Out of affection and honor for Alex and Rebecca, we are here today to witness their vows, which will unite them in marriage. To this moment they bring the fullness of their hearts as a treasure to share with one another. They bring the spark and spirit which is uniquely their own, and out of which has grown for some time, and will continue to grow, deepen, and strengthen, the precious reality of their life together.

“We share joy with them on this special day in their lives. This day they affirm and declare each other as life partners in a celebration of love, which will bring empowerment to their life’s path together.

“Let us all give our love to Rebecca and Alex during this ceremony as they pledge their love to one another. May the wisdom and spirit of all-giving and all-understanding Love pervade the words spoken and the love given here today, that these vows offered will remain strong and true in the presence of love all the days of their lives.

“May all of us present feel the strength and depth of Alex and Rebecca’s love and experience a rebirth of the power of love in our own lives.”

Thor stopped and moved to a table to the right of the stairs where three candles stood. One large white one and two small blue candles. “Today Rebecca and Alex come here from two different families, two different heritages. We are especially grateful for the values which have flowed into them from those who have loved and nurtured them and pointed them along life’s way,” he said.

“The Heritage each brings to this marriage will continue to be an important element in their lives, but now will be shared between them. Out of these two families, a new family will be created,” he explained.

“A beautiful way to symbolize the two who become one is to invite the mothers of Alex and Rebecca to come forward and light the individual candles which represent the two separate families.” He paused and held out his hands toward you and Alex’s mother. You both stood and approached the table each picking up a candle.

“When the two individual flames are merged as one, it will symbolize the union of their two families in this marriage and the rich heritage each brings to it,” he said as you and Alex’s mother lit the large candle using the flames from the smaller tapered ones.

“From now on Rebecca and Alex will grow together as unique persons who will together create a rich heritage all of their own.”

Thor pulled out a silver cord and Alex and Rebecca crossed their wrists and held each other’s hands. He began to bind them together as each spoke.

“These are the hands of your best friend, young and strong and full of love for you, that are holding yours on your wedding day, as you promise to love each other today, tomorrow, and forever,” Rebecca said as Thor wound the cord over their hands.

“These are the hands that will work alongside yours, as together you build your future,” Alex replied.

“These are the hands that will passionately love you and cherish you through the years, and with the slightest touch, will comfort you like no other,” Rebecca said.

Alex took a steadying breath before speaking again. “These are the hands that will hold you when fear or grief fills your mind.”

“These are the hands that will countless times wipe the tears from your eyes; tears of sorrow, and tears of joy,” Rebecca said.

“These are the hands that will help you to hold your family as one,” Alex replied.

“These are the hands that will give you strength when you need it,” Rebecca said

“And lastly these are the hands that even when wrinkled and aged, will still be reaching for yours, still giving you the same unspoken tenderness with just a touch,” Alex finished.

“And so the binding is made,” Thor said and a spark passed along the cord.

The ceremony continued with the exchanging of rings and when they kissed they giggled as their faces came close before Rebecca wrapped her arms around Alex’s neck and kissed them deeply.

The reception was held inside. A long table was set at the front of the room above the others where Alex and Rebecca sat with their bridal attendants. The rest of the room was set in three long tables. You, Steve, and Bucky sat at the end of one, and down the rest of the table were your brother and sister’s family and people they considered their family. Sam and Rachel, Pepper, Maria and Edwin, Wanda, Vision, Billy and Teddy, and any other Avengers they had just grown up knowing and loving. The table on the far side was set up similarly with Alex’s family. The table in the middle was friends. People from school and the Young Avengers.

All the food was vegan and just before they got to the cake-cutting, came the speeches. Steve was the first to get up to talk.

“I just want to thank you all for coming here to share in this big day,” he said looking around the room. “As most of you know, Rebecca is one of a trio. I remember when they were born, they were so tiny I could hold them just in the palm of my hand. All I could see was what could go wrong. Now, I see her here looking so happy and I look back on her life and see how much went right.

“Rebecca has always been so loving and friendly. On her first day of school, she happily introduced herself to her teacher while her siblings hid behind her. She’s always known who she was. She never let other people’s opinions hold her back. She was the kid who would always step in when someone was being bullied. In high school, I would get calls saying she had gotten into an argument with a teacher over some injustice. I remember once she told her grade four teacher she couldn’t punish the class for something one person did because it was considered a war crime. She is such an inspiration to me.”

He took a breath and looked over at her. “Then one day she started talking about Alex. For about three months she had two topics of conversation. The Avengers training and Alex. When she brought them home to meet us, I could see exactly why she loved them so much. Alex is so sweet and loving. They are kind and artistic. Quiet and supportive. They complement each other. They met while they were so young and I thought, even though I married my childhood love, that they couldn’t possibly last. The odds are never there, are they? Yet they did. They are two sides of the same coin and I can’t wait to see how their lives unfold. So if you could raise your glasses with me and toast to true love and to Alex and Rebecca.”

Alex and Rebecca cut the cake. It was one you had made with Sarah using swirls of vegan chocolate art to decorate the outside and different flavors for each tier. The top was a chocolate mousse layer cake, the middle was choc mint crunch and the bottom was chocolate with a cannoli filling.

“Oh man, I forgot how good your cakes were,” Sam said through a mouthful of cake. Rachel hit him in the arm. “Hey baby, you know I love you. And you make the best cup of coffee, but cake is not where your skill lies.” She hit him again and he rubbed his arm. “I better shut up or I’ll be sleeping on the couch for a week.

“Yeah, you better,” Rachel agreed.

You took a bite of your cake. You’d been given the one with the cannoli filling. The tang of the filling blended with the sweetness of the cake in your mouth. Bucky nudged you and pointed at Sarah who was giggling in the corner with America and Kate.

“I’m starting to wonder if they’re more than just friends,” he said.

You looked over at them. They were talking very closely and there was a lot of touching. “Why wouldn’t she have told us? They’ve been like that for what? Six years now?”

Bucky shrugged. “Not ready to come out maybe? Maybe I’m reading too much into it. But she stopped dating when they started showing up all the time.”

You whistled. “She does take after me, doesn’t she.”

Bucky laughed. “She’s definitely yours.”

“She’ll come to us when she’s ready,” Steve said, watching them.  He turned back to the two of you and sighed. “They’re all grown up.”

“They are,” you said, rubbing his back. “You can’t stop it, Steve. You just have to appreciate it.”

He nodded and kissed the top of your head. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I do.”

// NEXT

[delicatelyherdreams]

Surprise?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x pregnant!Reader

Summary: After a date night gone wrong, you find yourself spilling some beans you’d been planning to keep to yourself for a little bit longer.

Warnings: arguing (sorry if it’s bad, i’m not the best at writing arguments); language; sexual innuendos??

Word Count: 2348

The wedding was rapidly approaching, but the planning was more than taking its toll on you and your fiance, James Buchanan Barnes.

The guest list was extensive, thanks to a certain Playboy Billionaire Philanthropist wanting to invite everyone he knew, even though it wasn’t his wedding. His excuse was that “You and the Manchurian Candidate over there don’t have many friends. And besides, the more guests you have the more presents you get.”

You tried to tell him that that wasn’t the point but he wouldn’t listen.

Then there was the renting of the venue, hiring the caterers and entertainment, and don’t even mention wedding dress shopping.

The wedding itself was about two months away and that should’ve been plenty of time to get a dress that would still fit by then, right?

Wrong.

Because there was a little surprise neither you nor Bucky had been planing for: you were pregnant. At this point, you were about two months along, but you had to plan your dress for the wedding at which you would be around four months along and showing your baby bump.

You didn’t know how to tell Bucky yet, and because when you would be dress shopping you’d have to use those stomach bumps that helped you to predict how big you’d be at the time of the wedding, you had banned him from going dress shopping with you.

You were overjoyed by the newfound pregnancy—you and Bucky had been talking about having kids for a while now—but it was definitely an unplanned one that had come a little sooner than you had expected. 

It wasn’t only the wedding and the baby that was adding stress onto your lives as well. You both had work.

With him being a part of the Avenger’s core team and you being a SHIELD agent, you were both constantly on the move, taking missions and such.

You were starting to pull out from them, opting for taking on the paperwork rather than going out into the field in order to save you the stress and worry about accidentally doing something to the baby or getting yourself hurt and potentially having a miscarriage.

The stress of potentially taking an early retirement to take care of your baby was beginning to weigh down on you. You knew they would need at least one parent out of that line of work, and you weren’t sure you you could convince Bucky to hang up the tactical gear for a pair of dad jeans and a t-shirt. So for the time being, you were working on setting up your resignation details and tying up loose ends.

And, with all this stress, of planning, trying to keep the baby a secret, and retiring, you figured that you and Bucky could use a date night at your favorite bar and restaurant.

Which was how exactly how you had ended up sitting on a bar stool, in a dress that felt way too tight with all the baby weight you were putting on already, Bucky at the other end of the bar getting you both some drinks, and a flirtatious scumbag at your right who couldn’t take no for an answer.

“Come on, babe,” he said again. “Let me buy you a drink. I can make you feel so good tonight.”

Oh god he was repulsing you. You had to hide your retching. “I’m good.”

He hummed. And opened his mouth to speak. “Mhmm, you think so, but I can smell it on you baby. You’d like a drink and to go home with me.”

You could smell the alcohol on his breath. He was undoubtedly drunk, but you knew Bucky wouldn’t listen to that excuse as he beat this guy to a pulp for flirting with his girl. You shook your head politely. “No thank you, I don’t drink. And I’m here with my fiance.”

The man didn’t seem deterred. “Come on, babe. Just one small one. He doesn’t have to be involved with a man buying a pretty woman a drink.”

Your baby hadn’t started kicking yet, but if it had, you were sure he or she would be squirming around in protest, mirroring your inner feelings.

“I don’t drink,” you repeated. “Now if you’ll excuse me...” You stood up from your stool and started to walk down the length of the bar.

You were stopped, however, by a cold and rough hand grabbing yours and pulling you back into the chest of the man who had been trying so desperately to by you a drink.

You squirmed. “Let me go!” you said as you tried to push him back as hard as you could without hurting him... yet.

He smirked down at you. “Babe, relax...” He started to dip his head down towards your neck.

And that was the invisible line he most definitely crossed.

You shoved him forward and spun around in his arms, slamming your elbow into his chest and knocking him back. “I said no,” you hissed at him before walking away.

Ugh men.

You walked down the length of the bar over to where Bucky was standing, leaning against the bar. You sat down on the empty stool next to him and rested your elbows on the counter. “Hey Buck?”

He didn’t respond right away, but it gave you time to observe him.

He had tied his long hair back into a low bun at the base of his neck and he was wearing a long-sleeved blue dress shirt and a pair of black slacks. His hands were covered by a pair of gloves he always wore when you left the apartment despite you telling him often he didn’t need to hide them. His whole body was tense and rigid.

You frowned. “Hey, you okay?” you asked as you reached out and set your hand on his shoulder and rubbed small circles over the clothed skin.

He flinched slightly at your touch, snapping out of whatever daze he had been in. “Hmm? Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” you said as you turned to face him head on. “What happened? Did someone say something? Do I need to beat someone up?”

He shook his head. “No, nobody said anything.” He took a deep breath and offered you a small glass that was filled with a dark and bubbly liquid. “Here, I got you a coke. Nonalcoholic like you requested.”

You smiled softly and took it from him. “Thank you,” you said lifting it up to your lips. 

He nodded in response, lifting his own whiskey sour up to his lips and taking a drink.

The rest of the date night passed by with uneasiness. You both settled down in the restaurant section of the building and ordered your usual meals. Dinner passed in almost complete silence as Bucky didn’t seem to want to hold a conversation for long.

You finished your meal in silence and you quickly paid the check and got in the car to leave.

The ride home was tense and silent. You knew there was something going on with him, but he wasn’t letting on to it. Finally, he pulled into the apartment building’s garage and parked the car.

You couldn’t stand the silence anymore and you shifted in your seat to look at him. “Okay, what’s going on?”

He shook his head as he climbed out of the driver’s seat. “Nothing,” he responded simply.

“Bullshit,” you countered as you also climbed out. You followed him towards the building’s main entrance. “You can’t hide it from me. I know you too well. Now tell me what’s going on so I can fix it.”

He stayed silent as he climbed into the elevator and pressed the button for your floor.

You heaved a sigh and stood next to him. “I’m not dropping this,” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest.

He didn’t respond, instead waiting for the elevator to rise to your floor and open its doors.

When it did, he walked out and down the hall towards your shared apartment and opened its door.

You followed him in, closing the door behind him and slipped out of your heels. “Okay, tell me now,” you said giving him your “stern-fiance” look. “I’m not going to bed with you when you’re angry like this.”

“You want to know what’s wrong?” he demanded suddenly, bursting out in a small rage.

You nodded your head, giving him the “duh” expression. “Why else would I be asking you?”

He shook his head, his face contorting and shifting into an uncomfortable expression. 

You looked at him dumbstruck. “Are you jealous?” you asked cautiously.

“Maybe! I don’t know I just... He was so close to you and I felt my blood boil and all I wanted to do was punch him in his jaw.”

You scoffed. “Are you serious right now? You cannot think that I would do that to you, Buck.”

He crossed his arms in a defensive pose. “I don’t know. But I looked over and you were in that guys’s arms and he was leaning down and I—” He growled in frustration and hung his head.

“Oh my god,” you muttered in exasperation. “You’re shitting me now, Barnes. You’ve gotta be. That man was a scum who was too drunk to take ‘no’ for an answer. I would never do that to you!”

“How can you be so certain, huh? How can you be so sure of the fact that you won’t leave me? You can have any man you wanted, so why should I believe you?”

You turned to him and, before you could think, you snapped, “Because I love you and I’m fucking pregnant! Okay?” You seethed with anger. “Because I’m pregnant with your baby and I wouldn’t pull this shit on you! Not after all we’ve been through, not with how much I love you. Can’t you see that? Why else would I be engaged to you?”

His face was stark white, and you thought that for a moment he had gone into shock at your outburst, but then he spoke in a hushed whimper. “Y-You’re pregnant?” he asked in a voice just barely audible in the silence of the room.

Fuck, this was not how you had wanted to tell him. You managed a weak smile. “Surprise?”

His jaw went slack as his eyes darted every which way. From your eyes to your stomach to your face, his eyes were moving faster than you could tell. “Wh-Why didn’t you tell me?” he gasped out as he took a cautious step towards you. He looked at you like you were made of glass.

You in turn took a step towards him. “I was going to wait until after the wedding. You were so stressed as it is with all this planning and I didn’t think you needed anything else on your plate at the moment.” You glanced down at your toes. “...and I wanted them to be like a little wedding gift for you; a pleasant surprise.” you admitted.

“Oh my god, (y/n)...” He walked right up to you and set his hands gently on your stomach as if he was trying to feel for the baby hiding in there. He was silent and you could see him straining. For what? You didn’t know. Until he began to cry silently. “I can hear them...” he whispered softly.

At that moment you knew. His hearing, with the effects of the serum, had been enhanced. He could hear almost anything, and if he strained his ears he could hear even the smallest of sounds. In this case, the smallest sound was the thump thump thump of the baby’s heartbeat, inaudible to any normal person without technology, but perfectly loud enough for him to pick up on if he strained his ears enough.

Without another word he quickly wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you into one of the tightest hugs you had ever shared. His shoulders shook silently, and you were pretty sure he was crying.

You hugged him back. “You’re going to be a daddy, Buck,” you said in between quiet laughs. 

“A daddy,” he repeated. “Oh my god, I love you so much, (y/n).”

You smiled and squeezed him tighter. “I love you too, Buck. And you’re going to make such a great dad.”

He pulled away from you and gazed down at your face, his eyes teary. “Oh my god, we’re going to be parents.”

You nodded. “We are, yes.”

His eyes widened. “W-We have to get a nursery ready. Baby clothes, diapers, bottles. Oh my god we have to pick out a name!”

You laughed and reached up to cup his cheek in your hand. “We’ll have plenty of time to do that Bucky. I’m not due for a while.”

Bucky’s eyes searched your face. “How long?”

“About two months,” you answered with a smile. “We still have time to get all of that done. And I’m sure that Tony will be more than happy to help us finance all that stuff.”

“Stark? Just wait. He’ll pay for everything and then demand to be named godfather.” He chuckled at the thought.

You smiled. “He won’t. I’ve already asked Steve and he said yes.”

“Wait.” He held up his hands in a halting gesture. “Steve knew I was having a baby before I did?”

You shrugged. “He was going dress shopping with me. How else was I going to explain my use of the fake baby bump while figuring out sizing?”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe the punk didn’t tell me.”

Biting back a small laugh, you responded with, “I may or may not have threatened him within an inch of his life if he had told you before I was ready for you to know.”

He chuckled. “That sounds like you.” He leaned down into you and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “I love you, and I’m so glad we’re having this baby.”

You nodded and smiled up at him. “I’m glad too.”

Permanent Taglist: @dont-speak-just-read​ @becauseismellgood​ @impalaimages​ @breezy1415​ @lou-la-lou​ @aestheticapricity​

Requested by: @dragonborn791924

[oftripps]

“ –– wow. ”  it’s not so much a critique as it is a g-rated expletive. tripp forces a smile mid-chew and blinks. “ my tastebuds are screaming. gah–– uh, singing. singing. ”  he avoids swallowing and as ring-decorated fingers snag a napkin, wide eyes drifting to the tabletop as a small jingle breezes past tensed lips. “ ~ allergic to mushrooms ~ ”

or, alternatively: this is somethin’ new! the caspar slide pt. 2 !! & this time, it’s ‘bout to get funky !!  so i’m linc and this is tripp and he’s........ a trip, honestly, so let’s just... yeet on into this ––

( joe keery + 22 + muse 12 ) isn’t that phillip joel “tripp” goodman over there? i heard he joined faction: one after they got back to west ham. it’s funny, ‘cause they were only on the service trip because HIS BANDMATES DUPED HIM INTO THINKING THE SIGN-UP WAS FOR A WOODS-THEMED OPEN MIC GIG. hopefully they fit in there – they’re JAUNTY but also OUTRÉ. oh, i’m sure they’ll be fine.

out the door !  ( tripp goodman: a roadmap )

look up townie family in the dictionary and you’ll find a portrait of the goodmans directly beside. these folks have a looooong flippin’ legacy here in lil’ ole west ham, kansas. it all started with montgomery goodman, a good man, who helped west ham’s founders break ground on this midwestern charmer several centuries ago. and now, the goodmans still live on the same property –– a refurbished farmhouse ( now closer to mcmansion ) surrounded by five acres of roooooollin’ hills. once upon a time, they were farming folk. now, theresa and joel goodman run the town’s one and only veterinary clinic. 

honestly, growing up? tripp was a problematic kid. he’d take in frogs from the woods and start his own frog hotels. he’d sneak pets from the clinic to school who “ needed help learning their numbers ”. in class, he’d flick sunflower seeds at the backs of his peers’ heads and, when threatened with discipline, claim he simply “ wanted to see if they’d grow  ” .  so no, to answer your question–– tripp never really saw the real wrath warranted by his rulebreaking.

in fourth grade, he chose the saxophone as his required instrument. he caused such a commotion in his house, that his parents asked his teachers to suggest something quieter. the viola. the flute. the clarinet. the piano. instruments came and went,;instruments were quickly mastered and abandoned. because dear lord, how many times could they listen to the spongebob theme song played on woodwind ?!  on strings ?!  once middle school rolled around, little phillip joel knew his way around a whopping total of six instruments, a tally that would only grow in the coming years. eventually, his parents caved and allowed him to keep playing, so long as he respected instrument curfews. they gave song requests to avoid hearing the same pieces on repeat: the goodman household was probably the only one blessed with an oboe-and-beatbox rendition of under the sea. young phillip joel’s take on the issue was simple: not all heroes wore capes.

( tw: domestic unrest, mentions of violence ) theresa and joel split when tripp was 9. just seven months later, tripp’s mother moved in with her girlfriend: tripp’s guitar teacher, ms. lillith. tripp didn’t mind ms. lillith. she was chill. he came to find out she could knock back a chocolate milk almost as fast as he could, and she liked her grilled cheeses with swiss only. his best friend became a thirty-six year old woman who happened to be his mother’s girlfriend. and that was fine. he could dig it. but joel goodman? oh no. his family name was tarnished. the scandal was too much to bear. joel sued for full custody and nearly made it, thanks to hometown politics and loyalties. but then he made one fatal mistake: he crossed his own son.

at 10 years old, fifth grade phillip joel returned home to his father’s after school with three fingernails painted effervescent blue. sidney frasier made me so cool, he gushed as he put his colored nails on proud display. dad, aren’t i so cool?  the next day, his dad enrolled him in the town’s peewee football program. he returned home from his first practice with a black eye and a split lip. from a ball, the coach insisted. hit the poor fella square in the face, real strong. phillip joel put up a fight against football; it wasn’t for him. it conflicted with music practice. couldn’t he just play music with ms. lillith instead?

the custody battle persisted. they settled on a parenting schedule. joel contested, consistently, months later. and so the cycle persisted up until phillip joel’s 12th year, when he was knocked out cold on the football field. the broken ribs came from hefty tackles. bruises from the fall. concussion from the impact. but theresa spun it to her advantage: joel had since started coaching the middle school team. this was an instance of parental neglect. and, when the courts didn’t comply, she instructed her son to jump down the stairs. one broken ankle later, and joel goodman was accused of child abuse. his word against his injured son’s. the maneuver won theresa full custody. phillip joel has yet to forgive himself.

after the custody battle’s conclusion, joel stayed in town: but phillip joel didn’t want a thing to do with sharing his name. his mother still scolds him as phillip joel, but to everyone else, he became tripp –– inspired by his knack for, you guessed it!, tumbling over his own two feet.

in high school, tripp was the class clown. always smirking, always grinning, always ready to catch someone off guard. he became a pivotal part of west ham high’s jazz band, and even formed a small group with a few buds: face. they played some school events: homecoming, pep rallies, prom. garage-baked young rock, their songs often preached meetings under bleachers and high school never ending. 

in senior year, the band saw a reboot: and after assuming a more indie, spacey sound and a nifty new name –– 1757. –– they saw a rise in local celebrity. coffee shops commissioned them for jam nights. they played on the local radio. so they collectively decided to stick around and see how far they could ride this west ham fame train. with tripp as their frontman, they always leave a memorable impression: he’s not exactly the most run-of-the-mill performer.

1757.’s sound is reminiscent of LANY: i’ve reblogged a few tunes onto tripp’s blog for reference. he’s v much a paul klein / matty healy vibe. big into music. big into losing himself in it.

so what was he up to before the service trip? playin’ tunes. working part-time as a waiter. and brainstorming ways to get out of going on this trip, as soon as he realized his stupid bandmates lied about the form he signed. an open mic in the woods ! pah !  he should have known. but the concept sounded pretty flippin’ cool.

wear our shades on our nose, 'cause we're cool like that ( tripp goodman: the man, the myth, the ledge )

oh god, he’s  w e i r d .  he believes in goblins and ghosts and aliens ( oh my )!

still VERY VERY close with his mother. v broken up about not being able to get through to her, because it was about to be his parents’ wedding anniversary and they were going to anti-celebrate it with big slices of oreo cheesecake and setting things on fire.

how he feels about coming home to west ham: post apocalyptic version.

uhhhh... can he please get a waffle? specifically a cinnamon raisin waffle with extra cinnamon and a shit ton of syrup? actually. syrup with a side of waffles?

why he was banned from his personal twitter.

“ do you even lift, bruv? ”  * proceeds to pick up a teacup & lift his pinkie like a true knock-off british monarch, shitty accent included *

listens to wham! and glam rock. unironically.bluetooth speaker mounted on his bike. no helmet! like an absolute boss. he knows!! wild!! shades on. it’s 2am. it’s dark. but true swag obeys no clock.

catch him biking everywhere stranger things style, actually. his bike’s name is milo because he can roll on for miles. mess with milo and he’ll fuck u up. aka find out if you’re lactose intolerant and slip heavy cream into your meal.

has a strong vendetta against blue doritos. which might take root in some horrific experiences involving cheez wiz, cool ranch, weed, and the new york subway system at 4am on a tuesday. spring break freshman year of college. oof.

he has a lil drawwwwl. tease him about it. he’ll probably blush.

stress-hums chili’s babyback ribs without realizing. catch him singin�� that about to be murdered.

weapon of choice: kindness.

actual weapon of choice: baseball bat.

he will write little jingles to keep morale up. “ so we’re trapped / cash us inside / how bou’ dat ? ”

has a passion for introspective literary quotes. but... has somehow managed to learn each and every one wrong.

friggin’ loves superheroes even though he can’t be bothered to watch the films? he just… always used to get made fun of for liking comic books even though he never read them? “ arachnid man is uh...  heh. he’s pretty dope, huh? ” he embraces the falsehood. someone call him on it.

9/10 times if he’s in the gym, it’s just to eat his donut and watch pay-per-view movies on the bike for free.

apple pie can absolutely be breakfast if you try hard enough. jeez. get with the times, man!

he had a legitimate pet rock before going on this service trip. but has no idea where that bugger’s gone. probably got fed up with tripp serenading him with “ we will rock you ” at all hours of the night.

lawful good. will wave other drivers on forever.

got into an accident on his bike once. bitch broke his arm and he just kept on smiling.  “ no you have a nice day! and uh.... hey. mind if we like... call an ambulance? ”

low key feels like he’s the reason his parents’ marriage crumbled. low key guilty about it. low key wonders if maybe he lived up to his father’s expectations, he might have saved them a lot of grief.

give benny goodman by saint motel a listen and tell me that’s not his soul in audio form.

known for slightly hyperbolic storytelling.

pansexual as heck. falls in love. hard. it’s a mess. he can’t hide it. hence the shades.

he has brilliant hair. and it’s immortalized in his high school yearbook.

is hellbent on being a source of positivity in this terrible situation. can he interest you in a meme in these trying times? how ‘bout a granola bar? maybe a good ole game of mash?

he’s convinced this is an elaborate prank. or a social experiment. maybe aliens. but let’s not question it too much, let’s just.... have a good time? hakuna matata? no worries? lol where the twizzlers at?!

leaves a voicemail for his mother every morning and every night. maybe he cries. maybe.

he has one ear pierced because like.......... senior year of high school, he wanted to feel more cool.

allergic to mushrooms, shellfish, eggs, and harbingers of doom.

he truly boggles minds. just.... v out there? v spacey. he closes his eyes and drifts about on stage, fingers dancing on the keys, body moving in eclectic ways. he says “groovy” and fuckin’ means it. he dresses in prints inspired by grandma’s carpet. lots of half-buttoned flowy shirts, boots, tailored statement pants, dangly necklaces. he’s got his hands full of rings –– they symbolize milestones. and some are just, like... pretty. and one’s his mother’s old wedding band.

where the hell are my friends !  ( wanted connectz. )

i was gonna do a whole section on this and got lazy but like.... anything. all the things. good, bad, ugly, beautiful. hurt him. make him suffer. but also support him a bit.

i imagine he’s got a solid squad goin’. he’s in faction one too, so... hmu for those.

i feel like he’d be pretty chill with the greeks? yeah bro, he parties. he’ll chill. he’ll crack open a cold one and pretend to understand what those letters on your jacket mean! pie-apple-fate-uh? cool stuff !

ride or dies. pls.

he needs someone to like....... melt his heart. maybe someone unexpected.

thisssss got long & disorganized but yes! let’s plot! let’s do this thang! #hype!!

[glowrioustrash]

New Rules 2

Summary: Elena is back on the dating scene, whether she likes it or not. When she’s stuck on an awful date, she calls in the reinforcements.

Pairing: Eventual Dean Ambrose x OC

Word Count: 3500+

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s Note: We’re back at it again! Thanks to everyone who sent messages saying they’d like to see more Dean and Elena. I have plans for 5 parts so far, so we’ll see where that gets us.

Tagging: @castielscamander / @therealfivefeetoffuckingfury

Part 1

[To: Lexa Bear] 911!

Elena texted discretely under the table, not taking her eyes off the man in front of her. She smiled and nodded at the appropriate times but was hardly listening. Dale had been going on and on all night, rarely letting her participate in the conversation or asking for her input. When she had tried to comment, he seemed put out by her interruption. Even when the waiter came over to take their order, he’d ordered her a salad without asking what she wanted. Her patience was plummeting faster than a stripper’s bra during fleet week.

At the moment, Dale was recounting his “glory years” of being an “athlete.” He started out sounding like he’d been some star basketball playing on the amateur circuit, but it eventually dissolved into the truth: he was a glorified bench warmer that only made the team because of daddy’s generous cheques made out to the athletic department.

She kept her phone in her hand, hidden in her lap, waiting anxiously for it to ring with the saving call. Alexa should be calling any minute, faking an emergency so she could leave. It was girl code.

She felt her phone buzz, signaling an incoming text instead of ringing with a call. She itched to read it, but didn’t want to draw Dale’s attention to the fact that she was texting. Another text came in, followed quickly by a third. She gave it another minute and no phone call came through. She discretely slipped her phone back into her clutch.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she really wasn’t but she smiled politely, placing her free hand over his on the table. “But I need to duck into the washroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Sure thing, baby.” He answered, making Elena want to roll her eyes. Instead she nodded and got up from the table, taking her purse with her.

She leaned against the counter in the ladies’ room, trying to keep the pressure off her feet in their too-high heels. She regretted the effort she put into this outfit, only to have it wasted on this jerk. She pulled her phone out, checking the texts.

[From: Lexa Bear] Oh hell no [From: Lexa Bear] You can’t keep ducking out of every date we send you on [From: Lexa Bear] Give him a chance and don’t even try to get a hold of the other girls

Elena groaned, throwing her head back in frustration. Her friends had been setting her up on dates left and right, saying it was about time to get “back on the horse.” She wasn’t actively avoiding dating – they were on the road too much to start dating and she was focusing on her career – but the men her friends kept setting her up on blind dates with were all duds. Worse than duds.

[To: BAWSE] Sasha my love

She was partway through composing the second text, asking Sasha to give her the escape call when Sasha beat her to the punch.

[From: BAWSE] Nope

She was getting ready to try her chance with Bayley - surely sweet Bayley wouldn’t leave her hanging - when her phone buzzed again.

[From: Lexa Bear] I told you not to try we all agreed you’re seeing this date thru!!

Alexa had attached a screenshot from a group chat with the girls. Alexa, Nia, Sasha, Bayley all agreeing that they wouldn’t pull her out of this date. Elena resisted the urge to throw her phone, but just barely. What good were girlfriends if they wouldn’t bail you out of an awful date? Then again, without them she wouldn’t be going on 2 hours of listening to Dale’s athletic “career.”

She racked her brain for someone, anyone that would help her out that wouldn’t cave to Alexa’s imposed ban. She scrolled through her contacts, sighing in relief as she realized who would be willing to save her, Alexa’s wrath be damned.

[To: Ambrose] Dean [To: Ambrose] Babe [To: Ambrose] Deanie baby, sweetie pie.

She was ready to keep spamming him until he replied. She didn’t know what his plans were for the evening, so who knows how long that would take.

[To: Ambrose] Light of my life [To: Ambrose] Honey bunches of oats [To: Ambrose] Snuggle bunny [From: Ambrose] Dear god woman what??? [To: Ambrose] THANK GOD YOU ANSWERED [To: Ambrose] I need your help [From: Ambrose] Kinda hard to ignore 6 texts in a row [From: Ambrose] Whats wrong [To: Ambrose] You need to save me from this date [To: Ambrose] Wait 7 minutes and call me [From: Ambrose] Date where [To: Ambrose] Italian place on Seventh. Paul and Frankie’s [From: Ambrose] Ok [From: Ambrose] Why 7

Elena didn’t respond. She’d already been in the bathroom for quite a while and had to get back to the table. She wasn’t surprised to see Dale had ordered them each another drink. He seemed pretty set on getting her drunk, or at least tipsy. He’d been ordering her glass after glass of wine all night. Paired with the pitiful salad he’d ordered her, if she wasn’t careful the alcohol could definitely affect her more than usual.

“Sorry about that. There was a bit of a line.” She apologized, sliding back into her chair.

“You ladies certainly do travel in flocks, don’t you?” He laughed, an obnoxious fake laughter that made her think of country clubs and the stock market.

“I suppose sometimes we do.” She shrugged, thinking back to her flock that was abandoning her at this very moment.

“So, are you a chocolate kind of girl? We could split a desert.” He picked up the menu between them, looking it over. Elena was a chocolate girl, but she had no intention of splitting anything with Dale except for the cheque.

“You know I would love to, but I really shouldn’t. Gotta watch my figure to be on TV every week.”

“Yes, I remember the days of an athlete’s diet, although I’m sure our diets were drastically different. I had to intake so much protein-“ Elena stopped listening again, smiling and nodding.

Dale was even worse than Stephen, the angry blogger, who was slightly worse than Evan, the philosophy loving contrarian, who was worse than Greg, who had been wonderful but painfully gay. How Bayley had managed to set that one up, she’ll never understand.

She anxiously checked the clock on the wall. It had to have been at least 10 minutes since Dean agreed to call. What the hell was taking so long?

15 minutes and Dale was explaining the play he’d invented. Elena didn’t know much about basketball, but it didn’t sound that ground breaking.

20 minutes and he was explaining how he’d led the team to victory in the state championships – led in the sense that he’d given them a pep talk she was sure no one cared about, and refilled their water bottles.

25 minutes after texting Dean, Elena was ready to give up waiting on Dean. She was trying to come up with something she could say to get out as painlessly as possible.

A seat was pulled noisily from the table next to them, making Elena snap out of her thoughts. The chair was dragged to their table and spun backwards. Elena watched with wide eyes as Dean dropped himself into the chair, looking sorely out of place in his jeans and leather jacket.

“Dean?” She questioned. “What are you doing here?”

“In the neighborhood.” He shrugged, reaching across the table for her glass of wine, taking a good swig of it before pulling a face.

“Can I help you?” Dale scoffed.

“Nah, I’m good.” Dean waved him off before flagging down a waiter. “Hey! Yeah, can I get some whiskey over here? Jack if you got it.” He turned back to the two at the table, setting the wine glass down with distaste. “This shit’s awful.”

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Dale all but squawked. Elena bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at his face.

“Dean Ambrose. Elena’s friend. You guys already eat? I could eat.” He looked around for the waiter he’d ordered the whiskey from.

“Well I’m sorry Mr. Ambrose, but this is a bit of a private affair.” Dale narrowed his eyes at Dean.

“Mr. Ambrose.” Dean snorted. “Have you ever heard anyone call me Mr. Ambrose, darlin’?”

“Can’t say that I have.” Elena grinned, finding it harder and harder to stop from laughing.

“You’re interrupting our date, Dean.” Dale pointed out, his face turning red.

“A date? Is this a date?” Dean faked dumb, pointing between the two of them. Even if Elena hadn’t asked for his help out of the date, anyone could have guessed what it was. The restaurant was dimly lit and full of couples talking quietly to each other. “Shit, that explains the jacket.” Dean reached over, flicking at Dale’s sports coat.

Elena couldn’t hold back anymore and burst out laughing at Dale’s reaction. He looked repulsed Dean had touched him.

“Elena, let’s go.” He stood, pulling out his wallet and tossing some bills on the table.

“Excuse me?” She quirked an eyebrow at his tone of voice.

“Shit man. Abort mission. Abort!” Dean stage whispered.

“Your friend is ruining our evening. I said let’s go.” He held his hand out for her and she just glared at it.

“I’m sorry, I missed the part of this evening where you became my father. You could try asking nicely.” She replied coldly.

“We were having a perfectly lovely evening before he showed up,” Dale sighed, making Elena roll her eyes. “Don’t let him ruin it. Let’s go somewhere else.”

“I think I’d rather not.”

The waiter brought over Dean’s whiskey, making the trio fall silent until he had stepped away.

“Whatever.” Dale scoffed, storming out of the restaurant. Dean held his glass in Dale’s direction, saluting him before taking a drink.

“Seems like a real charmer.” He drawled.

“You wouldn’t know charm if it bit you on the ass.” Elena shot back. “You didn’t have to be such a prick.”

“Am I doing you a favor right now or not?” He rolled his eyes.

“I asked you to call me, not show up.”

“More fun this way.” He smirked. “Got a drink out of it too.”

“Well hurry up and finish so we can leave. I’m dying for a burger.” She groaned.

“Didn’t you just eat?”

“He ordered me a salad! Wouldn’t hear anything different. I saved calories all day to eat something good tonight so I’m getting my damn burger.” She ranted.

“Yes m’am.” Dean mock saluted before tossing back the rest of his drink.

“Where did you park?” Elena asked as they got outside.

“Took a cab. Figured you drove.”

“No, Dale picked me up at the hotel.” She groaned.

“Well, let’s go then.” Dean shrugged, walking down the sidewalk.

“Dean.” Elena huffed, following him at a slower pace due to her shoes. “Can’t we catch a cab back?”

“We’re not that far.”

“I don’t have a jacket.” She pointed out. The dress she was wearing was thin with spaghetti straps. It wasn’t too cold out, but the fall air held a bite to it. She could tell she would be cold by the time they made it to the hotel. Dean took off his jacket, tossing it at her. Once he was sure she’d caught it and was starting to put it on, he kept walking.

“Dean.” She whined again.

“What now?” He laughed.

“Slow down. Do you see the size of my heels?” She pouted. He stopped walking again, turning to look at her shoes. The stilettos accentuated her legs, but were making her walk at almost half her usual pace.

“Darlin’, NASA can see those things from space.” He teased.

“Rude.” She scoffed.

“Why you wear those if they’re so hard to walk in?”

“They make my ass look great.” She shrugged.

“I’ve seen you in your ring gear. You don’t need ‘em.” He grinned as she caught up to him.

“Aww, that might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She joked. He rolled his eyes and started walking again, this time trying to match her pace. His patience didn’t last very long.

“That’s it! Hop on.” He turned around, taking a knee in front of her.

“What?”

“It’s gonna take us all year at this rate. Climb on.”

“My dress is gonna ride up.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re wearing my jacket then, isn’t it? Get on.”

Elena huffed but wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He stood, lifting her easily and holding onto her legs. She released one arm to make sure the jacket was covering her.

“Hold on, would ya?” Dean grumbled.

“I’m sorry, would you rather my ass be hanging out for the world to see?” She shot back, wrapping her arm back around him.

“Honestly?” He teased and she swatted him on the shoulder. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, El.”

“Did you eat yet?” Elena asked after they’d walked for a minute.

“Nah.” Dean shook his head.

“Well, I kinda owe you for saving me.”

“And carryin’ your ass.”

“And carrying my ass.” She laughed. “Wanna hang out in my room? We’ll order room service and see what shitty movies are playing?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He agreed.

“I’m gonna get the biggest burger they have.” She groaned at the thought, nearly drooling.

“Make it two, and don’t forget the fries.”

“Well duh.” She smirked.

Dean carried her all the way to her room, both of them laughing through the strange looks they were getting in the hotel lobby.

Elena opened the door, letting Dean in before kicking off her heels with a groan. She flexed her feet, leaning against the dresser for a minute.

“You act like you just walked a mile in those.” Dean teased.

“I did.” She smirked.

“Were you carryin’ me or was I carryin’ you? I did all the walking here.”

“I have no recollection of this.” She shook her head, moving to her suitcase.

“You’re such a brat. See if I help you outta a shit date again.” He threatened.

“I don’t plan on having anymore shit dates. I’m not letting the girls send me on another blind date ever again.” She huffed, pulling out sweatpants and a tank top. “I’m gonna get changed, you order the food.”

Dean mock saluted and picked up the menu next to the phone as she closed the bathroom door. He ordered them each a burger and a side of fries before kicking off his own shoes and getting comfortable on one of the beds. He flipped on the TV and started browsing through what was on.

Elena came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, her face clear of make-up and hair in a messy bun. She launched herself onto the bed beside Dean.

“Food’ll be about 20 minutes.” He told her.

“Ugh, too long.” She groaned, flopping onto her side.

“You’ll survive.” He chuckled.

“You don’t know that.”

“Mmm, pretty sure I do.”

“What’s on?” She asked, sitting back up to look at the TV. He shrugged and handed her the remote. She started flipping through the channels herself.

“Beer?” Dean asked, heading to the in room minibar.

“Yes please.” She replied, not looking from the screen. Dean nodded, grabbing them each a bottle.

“Oooh!” She squealed, making Dean look to the TV. The screen was showing some old black and white movie.

“What is it?” He asked, sitting back down and handing her one of the bottles.

“The original House on Haunted Hill with Vincent Price.” She set the remote down, taking the beer instead.

“Ugh, horror movie?” He groaned.

“Oh hush. It’s so old it’s not even scary anymore. Trust me, it’s funnier now than it is scary.” She pouted exaggeratedly at him.

“Fuckin’ fine.” He huffed, getting comfortable.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh at the movie. She was right, this might have been scary when it was originally released but by today’s standards it was just funny. The food arrived shortly and they dug in, Elena devouring her burger while Dean went for the fries.

“This is so good.” She moaned around a mouthful of food. Dean shook his head with a grin. “Fuck salad.”

“Fuck salad.” Dean agreed, munching on the fries.

“Who even does that? Orders for someone, but not anything they actually want.” She huffed.

“He’s a tool, don’t even think about ‘im.” Dean dismissed.

“I have no idea why Sasha set me up with him.” She rolled her eyes. “They’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

“What’d I just say?” He scolded, throwing a fry at her.

“Hey!” She glared. “Don’t get crumbs in my bed.” She picked the fry up and ate it. Dean just threw another in response.

“You’re lucky we’re in my bed or I would absolutely retaliate.” She grumbled. “I don’t wanna wind up sleeping in food.”

“Steal the other bed.” He shrugged, throwing another fry.

“Stop!” She threw the fry back. “That’s Bayley’s bed.”

“And she’s where, exactly?”

Elena paused, thinking about it. She pulled her phone over to check on her. It was getting fairly late, late enough that Bayley was usually relaxing in their room by now. She hadn’t heard her phone go off, but there was a text waiting. It must have come through while she was changing.

“Apparently she’s giving me the room for the night in case I wanted to bring my date back.” She grimaced. “Like I’d ever bring Dale-“ A fry hit her in the face and she stopped, growling before taking the pickle she’d picked off her burger and throwing it at him.

“Hey!” Dean shouted, wiping the pickle juice and condiments off his face with his hand. “You tryin’ to blind me?”

“You started it.”

“Yeah, with harmless fries. Not a pickle, you damn animal.” He huffed.

“Aww, muffin.” She cooed sarcastically.

“Damn straight, muffin.”

She shook her head at him and handed him a napkin. They fell back into a companionable silence, watching the shitty effects of the movie. Once they were finished eating, Dean moved the dishes out to the hallway to be picked up. When he got back to the bed, Elena curled up with her head on his legs.

“Thanks for saving the night, Dean.” She smiled.

“Yeah, it was nothin’.” He shrugged.

“No really. Not just saving me from the date, but hanging out. Watching a cheesy movie with me and all that. Beats sitting in my room alone.”

“Anytime.”

They watched the movie through to the end, Frederick Loren explaining what he knew all along. Dean scoffed at the ending, looking down to find Elena half asleep in his lap.

“El, I should probably get going.”

“No, stay.” She whined sleepily, snuggling into his thigh. “Have a sleepover with me. We haven’t had one in a while.”

“A sleepover?” He questioned.

“Mmhmm.”

“You’re pretty much asleep already.”

“Mmhmm.”

“So what am I s’posed to do?”

“Be warm.”

“Use a blanket.”

“Nu-uh. Not the same. You’re cuddlier.”

“I swear to god if you start tellin’ people I’m cuddly-“

“Shhh, won’t tell.” She cut him off, blindly reaching up to try to hold a finger to his lips but just ended up poking him in the face.

“Alright, alright. Jesus… Can we at least switch beds? I don’t think we found all the fries.”

Elena shook her head in response, not intending to move anytime soon. Dean sighed and carefully lifted her head, moving out from under her to stand. She huffed and pouted at the movement. He pulled back the covers on the opposite bed before picking her up.

“I coulda done that.” She huffed, curling into his chest.

“Yeah, sure you could. You were chompin’ at the bit to move.” He rolled his eyes, setting her into the bed.

“Where you going?” She asked as he moved to leave instead of getting into the bed.

“Relax, I’m just getting the light.” He told her, flipping the switch. He grabbed the remote and brought it over, setting it on the night stand next to his phone and wallet. After checking his alarm was set for his morning workout, he climbed into the bed. Elena rolled into him, snuggling into his chest as soon as he settled.

“G’night Dean.” She murmured.

“G’night El.” He answered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He didn’t know if she fell asleep immediately, but that was the last thing she said to him. He wasn’t tired yet, so he turned the TV volume low and channel surfed for a bit.

He looked down at Elena when she snuffled in her sleep. That Dale guy had been a prick and he was glad she hadn’t stayed on the date with him. She deserved better than Dale or her scumbag ex. He didn’t even understand how that guy could have left her for another woman. She was witty and could hold her own in an argument. She’d looked just as good tonight in her sweats as she had dressed up at the restaurant. Elena was caring but tough as nails when she had to be. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her, but damn if she didn’t deserve someone who would. Someone like-

Dean froze. He could practically feel his train of thought crash into a brick wall in a ball of fire.

Well fuck.

Part 3

[peakyxshelby]

Forbidden Flame

Part 1 (Here) Part 2

“Now Now,” Michael interrupted as he put a hand on each of your shoulders. “What the fuck is my best friends hand doing up my little cousins skirt?” You both quickly pulled away from each other you felt your face burning red while Isaiah shot right up to his feet.

“Didn’t see you there mate,” Isaiah was trying to avoid the conversation. You couldn’t be bothered with all the hiding especially now you weren’t really hiding anymore.

“We need to talk, but not here,” you break the awkward silence between you all and head for the books room.

“What are you doing?” Isaiah asks clearly worried.

“I can’t be bothered with it anymore.”

“If your brothers find out they’ll kill me.”

“They won’t trust me,” you whisper so Michael can’t hear as you lead the two boys into the room. The door closed behind Michael as he stood looking at you then back to Isaiah.

“So? Are you fucking?” Michael asked causing Isaiah to choke and you to blush again.

“Not quite,” You squeak becoming shy again.

“I love her mike,” Isaiah says causing Michael to become speechless.

“What?” You and Michael say in unison.

“We’ve been seeing for a few months but she’s only 17 and your cousins would kill me. I love her but we can’t be together.” You slipped your hand into his as he spoke nodding and agreeing with what he was saying.

“Don’t tell the boys, please?” Your voice was pleading.

“That why you been so bloody depressed?” Michael asked. Isaiah started to get embarrassed as you laughed at him slightly.

“Pol caught him trying to sneak out. We’ve been banned from each other until I’m 18,” you tell as Michael stands quietly.

“He doesn’t hurt you?” Michael asked again causing Isaiah to puff out his chest in rage. You could feel his fists clench but you move towards him stroking his arm gently to calm him down.

“Of course not.” Michael nods and takes a deep breath.

“I won’t tell the boys,” he nods. “You don’t hurt her, I don’t really care. But mate I can’t believe you were in my house and didn’t even pop into my room to say hello.” This commented had all 3 of you laughing.

It was the day of your 18th birthday and fortunately, with Michael's help, you and Isaiah had been able to see each other quite regularly. You still had to sneak around and be careful of course but it was better than nothing. Today you turned 18 and at your party tonight you wouldn’t have to hide what was going on.

“(Y/N)! Come on we are going to be late!” Michael called. You ran down to see him and Finn waiting for you in the kitchen. “You look nice, Excited to see you know who are we?” He laughed giving you a little nudge.

“Quit teasing,” you huff back before the three of you made your way to the car.

“Oh, by the way, Tommy had called a family meeting at 10 tomorrow morning. So don’t get too drunk on your big night.”

You stood in a group of people you didn’t really know as they all said happy birthday and told you how much you look like Ada now, or how they hadn’t seen you since you were a kid. You smiled politely and answered sweetly but you couldn’t help yourself from looking over them, your eyes darting around the room trying to find Isaiah. Michael noticed this and came over to whisper to you. “He’s running late, chill out.” You gave a sigh of relief as he handed you a glass of whiskey.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Tommy asked taking the glass back out of your hand.

“I’m 18 now Tommy, there is no stopping me.” You take the drink back and take a big swig on purpose winding him up.

“You worry me, too much of a Shelby for your own bloody good.”

The night went on and a couple more whiskeys were thrown your way. It had gotten later and Tommy, Polly, and Michael had already decided to head home All in all it had been very a good night but Arthur was keeping a watchful eye and had ordered Finn to escort you home. You scoffed at your older brother but knew he was probably right as your vision had blurred and speech slurred. As you set foot out the door, Isaiah turned the corner towards you.

“(Y/N)!” He shouts over happy to see you. “I’m so sorry I’m late.” You throw your arms around him pulling him inside of the garrison as you fell back.

“I missed you,” You say back sloppily and smiling up at him. You lean up on your tiptoes placing a kiss on his lips. This definitely got the attention of your brothers John and Arthur who almost jumped out there seats. Isaiah was wary at first but soon started to kiss back.

“Happy birthday,” he sings as he pulls a bunch of flowers from behind his back.

“They're beautiful!” You half laughed half shrieked smelling them close and examining the flowers. You thought the place got quieter but you just assumed it was because you had one too many. But the place had gotten quieter, as you pulled the flowers away from your face and saw Isaiah in front of you down on one knee.

“Isaiah…” you try to say but it came out as more as a whisper. The ring he held was beautiful and the smile on his face melted your heart.

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) Shelby, Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Yes, yes yes!” You shout jumping into his arms as he spun you around gently placing you down and sliding the ring onto your finger. You kissed him, hard, in front of everyone there in the pub. There was no more hiding. You enjoyed the rest of your night there was a lot of explaining to do, especially to your brothers, but all in all, celebrations were being held all around.

The next morning you woke up with Isaiah’s arm wrapped around you. You quickly looked at the clock and realized how you late you were for the damn family meeting. You pulled on clothes and started running down the street trying not to be later than you already were.

“Ah and here she is,” John said smirking as you entered hair messy eyes smudged with black Kohl.

“I think (Y/N) has some good news to tell everyone, Tom.” Arthur laughed knowing Tommy wouldn’t be best pleased with the news of the engagement.

“Yeah well, she’s late so she can tell us after. Will you sit down (Y/N).” Tommy ordered, he didn’t seem to be in the best of moods. “Right so before I begin, you will do as I say. As we all know our (Y/N) turned 18 yesterday, Finally a woman.”

“Yes and isn’t that terrifying,” Polly chimed in making your brothers laugh. Tommy shot everyone a glance that made them shut up.

“We are in a spot of very bad business with the Solomons as some of us know all too well,” Tommy aimed this remark at Arthur who had almost been killed by Alfie a couple months back. “To settle the bad blood and to create peace me and Alfie Solomons have created a deal. Alfie has a younger brother James. On the 10th of September, which is 5 days time. (Y/N) Shelby and James Solomons will be joined in marriage.”

“You fucking kidding me!” Arthur shouted standing up from his seat. John standing up after him to stop him pouncing at Tommy.

“No.,” you say quietly.

“What was that?” Tommy asked almost threateningly.

“I said No!” You screamed this time slamming your hands on the desk. “I’m your little sister, not a fucking bargaining chip. How dare you sell me on like I’m some sort of Shelby heirloom that nobody wants!” Tommy stayed very calm about avoided all eye contact with you.

“There will be no objection.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind, gone too far this time Tommy,” John hissed at his older brother. “She’s already getting fucking married!”

“You what?” Tommy asked slow and confused now. You quickly shot John a stern look before sinking back into your chair.

“Does it matter now anyway?” You asked. The room stayed quiet until Tommy shook his head. Indicating that there would be no getting out of this. “I used to love you, I used to tell everyone in school how great my big brother Tommy was. I used to gush about you to everyone I met, I looked up to you. But you changed, didn’t you. You fucking changed. Your business will always come first now won't it, over your own god damn family!” You were screaming now getting really close to Tommy’s face but no one was stopping you. “I want out, The Shelby’s are all about family they say huh? Well, they’re fucking wrong. Have fun with all that money Thomas, but money won’t fix how broken you really are.” With that, you push your chair out and storm out the room leaving your words to settle around Tommy's ears.

You ran back to your house tears flowing down your face. The cold air nipped at your skin as your tears dried. You burst through the door of your bedroom and saw Isaiah pulling up his trousers and getting ready to leave.

“(Y/N) are you OK?” you shook your head crying hard again running over to him and losing yourself in his arms.

“Isaiah, they’re making me marry someone else, someone who isn’t you.” You could barely get the words out through your hard sobs. He stayed silent sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. You could feel his heavy breathing as he played with your hair trying to soothe you.

“It’s OK, ssh come on love it’s OK,” He hushed you. “We’ll figure this out I promise.”

“I don’t want to marry anyone but you,” you sob finally pulling back from his chest to look up at him. He places a gentle kiss on your forehead and then one on your lips.

“I won’t ever let you go, I promise you.”

OK SO I left it so your imagination could run wild, BUUUUT if you really want I could maybe do a Part 3, let me know! 

[robotslenderman]

Wait, American here. What's happened? Why are we fighting with the Australians. Everyone knows not to fight with the Australians, they're our allies ffs. Oh god, he's going to start WW3.

G’DAY MATE LEMME SORT THAT OUT FOR YA. Scroll to the bottom for a TL;DR.

*Clears throat* #auspol, please correct me if I’m wrong on this, I’m just repeating what my mother told me and I’ve read absolutely nowhere about the Central American refugees thing, so let me know if I’ve totally cocked this one up.

Right. Before we get started, lemme tell you about Australia’s version of the Mexican Wall (detention centres! Human rights violations for everybody!), and how this relates to Trump throwing a tantrum on twitter and Malcolm Turnbull either being the most unimpressed politician ever or the biggest doormat ever, depending on who you ask.

See, the big issue in Australian politics (when it’s not the annual Leadership Spill) is the People On Boats.

Because of that whole “island nation” thing, we don’t have people fucking over here over the border because our border’s the fucking ocean, so they have to get on a goddamn boat to do it. To get on the boats, they pay people smugglers, go across a few countries, then get on more boats (possibly not in that order, I don’t know, I don’t have a bachelor’s degree in this), and then wind up here.

There’s a couple of problems with this, “AAAAAH BROWN PEOPLE!!!” from the racists in the peanut gallery notwithstanding:

Problem #1 – People smugglers know that those boats are one-way-trip only, so they give refugees the shittiest possible boats they can. Every now and then, one springs a leak earlier than intended. (Yes, “earlier than intended”, more on that in a tick.) So every now and then we’ll see on the news that the navy found an empty boat or one full of corpses or answered a distress call only to find no boat at all. Either way, refugees can and have died to get here – either as an accident, or as a tragic consequence of – 

Problem #2 – I don’t know the specifics, but the Australian navy, when it intercepts boats, is… I don’t know if they’re supposed to somehow turn the boats back, all I know is that they can’t let the refugees on board.

Unless the boat is in distress.

The solution to that? Blow a hole in the boat.

IDK if this still happens, or if this is just my Liberal mother filtering it, but what I’ve heard is that the only way the refugees can get rescued by the navy is if they’re in danger. So the refugees sabotage their own boat, and the navy has to rescue them.

As you can imagine, sometimes this doesn’t go as intended. Sometimes the navy’s too late, or someone slips – there’s families on board those shitty boats. People’s children have died.

Anyway, because of problem #1 and #2, there’s a real risk of people dying. Now, look, a lot of people who don’t want refugees here are just plain racist and could actually hardly care less about drowning refugees, and all of this could be solved by the navy just rescuing them anyway before the refugees are desperate enough to kick a hole in the hull, but fact of the matter is, there’s people profiting off the life savings of vulnerable people, greasing the wheels of corruption and putting people in danger, all the while promising that they’ll get settled in Australia if they remember to blow a hole in their own ship.

and then we stick them in a detention centre for years or more anyway.

So basically, all Australian politics ever talks about is Stopping the Boats (or not stopping the boats).

So somebody – IDK if this was the Lizard King or Turnbull’s idea, or even Obama’s. But at some point, Aussie politicians made a deal with Obama.

And, again, correct me if I’m wrong because the only source for this is my Liberal (as in, right-wing Liberal) mother, and I’m too lazy to google, and have heard nothing about this anywhere else, but – 

The idea is that we’d swap refugees. America gets our refugees, and we get Central American refugees. Two thousand, I think. I expect that’s just to start off with because I would’ve heard about it earlier if this was a thing that had been going on for a while. Either we end up with a few hundred extra refugees or it’s one for one, I don’t know, all I know is that it was two thousand on each side or less.

Anyway, this is win-win! 

People smugglers (hopefully) get less business because it’s kind of bad for business if you tell your clients they’ll go to Straya and they wind up drawing a short straw and winding up in Murica instead. (Word gets around, refugees find this stuff out so the people smugglers could only bluff for so long.)

People who are genuinely concerned about refugees not drowning are soothed because hopefully less refugees coming = less drownings.

Closet racists have to deal with brown people anyway and have no choice but to shut the fuck up or out themselves as actual racists.

People who are all for accepting refugees will be satisfied as the refugees get to go to a better life than the one they left behind anyway.

Basically the Australian government probably thinks it’ll get some peace and fucking quiet from all sides, when in reality we’ll just move on to marriage equality.

Now, again, I don’t know if this is actually what it is or not. I live in a Liberal (ie Republican, not left wing like it means in the States) household. I’ve never even seen left wingers here talk about people smugglers so I don’t even know how much of that is or isn’t true.

Whatever it is, we were supposed to ship a bunch of refugees over to the States and then the Carrot’s ass got elected, started going on about banning muslims etc and Washington DC Canberra went, “Oh, fuck.”

So! Turnbull, our PM, called Trump or vice versa to chat about it.

Then Turnbull told Straya that the deal was going ahead and that he Stood Up For Australia during this phone call. 

Australia went, “umm…. sounds fake but ok” because we’re Australian, not stupid, we got more coverage about the last US election than we do about all our elections ever combined. We know perfectly damn well that you either stand up to Trump or you get your own way, not both.

Then the Washington Post leaked what actually happened on that phone call a few days ago and now the Australian media is losing its shit.

What happened?

Apparently Trump went on about his penis size inauguration crowds, pitched a fit about the deal and how he “intended” (note the wiggle room that word gives you) to follow through on the deal, called that phone call with Turnbull “the worst” phone call he’d had that day (yes, to Turnbull’s “face”), and then hung up on him 25 minutes in out of the hour that call was supposed to take.

The Washington Post leaked it a few days later, and the Australian media lost its shit.

And after the Washington Post leaked it, Trump (ETA: oops, fixed that error, it was definitely Trump!) complained publicly on twitter that the whole deal was “dumb” and implied he was gonna try get out of it.

Australian media lost its shit again.

Now, regardless of your opinions of Turnbull – I think the guy actually did stand up to Trump. (I shouldn’t have said that out loud on tumblr, that’s like the Australian equivalent of saying “well I heard Trump petted a dog once?”) He can be a bit of a people pleaser and seems to be pretty laid back rather than go-for-the-throat. Or so I’m guessing because political news has been a lot quieter since the Lizard King was deposed.

But look, first off, we’re fucking Australians. We despise rank, it’s in our blood, our ancestors were convicts who wanted (and frequently tried) to shank their British overlords. Ranks are formalities on paper that should stay on paper. You wouldn’t even dream of the President of the US making chitchat with, say, a garbage disposal man, but in Australia if we found out our PM didn’t treat one as his equal we’d lose our fucking minds at the politician’s arrogance. Unless the garbage person was brown, because at the end of the day, Australia is p damn racist. Even the biggest doormat of a PM would have their inner Australian chomping at the bit the second Trump so much as insinuated he was more important than them. 

And come on, even people who live under rocks just know how big Trump’s ego is and how long Trump can be expected to go before he insinuates someone is beneath him even a little bit.

Secondly, the American pro-Trump media is implying that Turnbull pissed Trump off because they spun it as “well, Trump’s other phone calls went fine!”

And thirdly, I really don’t think a manchild like Trump would hang up the phone on someone unless that person was acting with a sliver of self-respect. Like hell, Turnbull could breathe too loudly and Trump’d be offended.

But then, Turnbull might’ve stood up to him and still been a doormat by our standards, because he is not telling the media his side of the story. At all. Probably because he doesn’t want to piss off Pence whoever winds up in charge after Trump goes, because at the end of the day, sucking up to the States is a sport that’s even more popular than our annual leadership spills.

Also, Australians hate politicians in general, so we’d probably call Turnbull a doormat if he bought a plane ticket and pissed on Trump’s hair personally, so.

TL;DR – Washington Post leaked that Trump humiliated our PM over the phone and now Australia’s going “Oooooh, shots fired!”