#his robe now looks like a wedding dress im-

[ask-but-beware-the-consequences]

You might say Nathan is the prettier friend and "I have never seen two pretty best friends"

But Nathan's pov is this. He tossed a green cloth on him.

Without text and cut and mtl reference:

[sukunas-wife]

PLEASE TEACHER SUKUNA!! I love him so much. Imagine him “proposing” after attending someone’s wedding and him saying something along the lines of “back when i was a brat, marriage was yet another political affair … im glad i found you now.”

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH I LIVE FOR AND LOVE TEACHER SUKUNA BECause I think of this VERSION in his “normal” form but I also- when he wants to be true form idk how but he can convert to true form. Because cmon he’s Ryomen Sukuna, if anyone can do it, it’s the 1000+ yo sensei. Let me get this show on the road :’)

Let’s pretend this was posted Easter morning as a little Easter gift 🤍🤍🤍

It was a few years after your graduation and you were well into your years as a teacher at Jujutsu high. 3 almost 4 years, considering you’ve been with Ryomen Sukuna for 3 of those years.

But today was a special day, it wasn’t an anniversary or anything, no it was a wedding.

There you sat by Sukuna, you couldn’t help but take a longer look out of the corner of your eye. You had to fight back a smile at his concentrated brow, it made him look more annoyed than he already seemed to be. You saw his eye flick to you before you looked away to your left to avoid being caught.

Shoko leaned over, “So it’s Gojo and Gojo sensei, those poor kids aren’t going to know what hit them when they come in.” You laughed, “It’ll be hell if Gojo really starts to wear off on Gojo.” She snickered and you both straightened up catching Getou’s unimpressed and raised brow from the altar. You tried not to laugh when you heard Shoko force whisper through her laugh “Gojo sensei might get mad and punish us, be quiet y/n.” You wanted to laugh harder, having to hold yourself back as your stomach trembled and you bit your lip. You could hear Shoko letting out shaky breaths trying to breathe. You sniffled, hands grabbing at your robes, Satoru had persisted everyone dress in traditional attire because he knew it was what Suguru wanted even if he wouldn’t voice it.

You focused back on the scene, unaware of your hand still grabbing tightly to your robes until you felt heat moving over your own hand. Your eyes flicked over to see Sukuna’s hand on yours, he didn’t look at you giving your hand a squeeze telling you to let go. You did, your hand falling flat under his hold, you didn’t miss the way his head lifted slightly and the small twitch at his lips.

You did your best to turn your hand under his heavy hold, just managing to interlock your fingers and pay attention to the Vows. Satoru was saying something ridiculous that even Suguru was wearing a bit of a “are you serious?” Look. You heard Sukuna let out a single snort through his nose and it made you smile. You smiled bigger trying to not laugh when Suguru visibly sighed, shoulders slumping briefly when he looked over the crowd. There was no doubt he saw you and shook trying to force the laughs and smiles back while trying to look down to avoid his look. The time old question came around, “Do you, Satoru Gojo, take Suguru Geto to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Gojo was smiling like a fool, “I do.” Suguru had a small smile, Satoru was a fool but there was no doubt he was Suguru’s fool. “Do you, Suguru Geto, take Satoru Gojo as your lawfully wedded husband?” Suguru’s smile grew to be just as cheesy as Gojo’s “I do.” “You may now kiss the groom.” Yaga looked away not wanting to see the act directly in front of his face, being the one to marry them was enough in his eyes. Everyone cheered and applauded as the two shared their first married kiss. You couldn’t, considering the fact your hand was being held hostage, and due to the fact that everyone was asked to stand outside to congratulate the couple. Sukuna dragged you with him to the grooms while they were signing their marriage certificate. You were confused and were going to ask why, until Sukuna pulled out a gold fountain pen, it had a diamond. The two moved away leaving the paper to him, Geto had a small smile and Gojo was smiling like a fool. “Thanks for doing this man!” Gojo smacked Sukuna’s shoulder only getting a side eye, as he sighed the witness line with a perfect and extravagant signature. Get smiled at you, “Thank you for being a witness to our marriage.” You were confused still, until Sukuna handed you his pen then you understood. “Oh, it’s a pleasure Suguru, who else gets to say they officiated Satoru and Suguru Gojo’s wedding.” Your smile made Geto laugh while you felt like you were signing your life away.

—- —- —- —- —- —-

The evening passed as everyone drank and lived their party up. Sukuna had listened to you talk with Shoko and Haibara who were sitting at the same table. He was busying himself with his sake, eyebrows raising head tilting slightly as he was pleased with the quality. Maybe that dumbass Satoru did know enough to please him. “Come on y/n! Come congratulate the boys with me!” Shoko was surprisingly pulling at your arm and you laughed, “Sorry Sho, I already congratulated them, Take Haibara with you, I’m sure he’d love to go with you.”

“Nooooo I want you to go with me.” Sukuna was watching out of the corner of his eye, questioning why you were so persistent on not jumping up to bully Satoru and Suguru as you usually would. Finally Shoko relented with a sigh, taking Haibara with her, you smiled, shaking your head no as you looked at the table. Noticing sukuna’s Choko was empty, you took the sake to fill his cup. His brow querked, watching your soft features, “Are you unwell, woman?” You looked up at him a little confused “I’m fine Sukuna why?”

He took the choko you had just filled, watching you as he drank. “Then why didn’t you go with your little friend?” You hummed with a small smile filling his choko again, “I’d really rather just be here with you Sukuna.”

That was the end of that conversation as peace fell over your quiet table and your companions came back, Shoko complaining that Haibara kept apologising for her. She had begun to tell you some of the things she had said to which Sukuna had even chuckled to himself. The festivities ran into the last hours of the night, Satoru was tearing it up on the dance floor trying to messily seduce Suguru who was facing second hand embarrassment and turning away from the scene that was being recorded and photographed by not only 5 different professional photographers but everyone who snuck their phone in, you included much to Suguru’s dismay. Sukuna was smiling watching “That idiot Gojo” present a ridiculous scene that he would never live down. You understand now why Gojo never drank when the party came to an end because Gojo became brave and tried to hollow purple a mosquito that had landed on Suguru’s cheek.

At that point you had lost it burying your face against Sukuna’s arm trembling from laughing. He looked at you amused seeing you gasping for air and silently laughing tears welling in your eyes. It was time for him to take you home, maybe he shouldn’t have let you join him in all those rounds of sake.

But he could admit to himself, he enjoyed the confidence you displayed, the sight of you smiling and touching him so casually as if he wasn’t the 1000+ year old king of curses who could so easily overthrow your little world.

—- —- —- —- —-

The Monday after was uneventful, back in School tending to students. Studying them to see where their weaknesses were, figuring out where you need to help them improve.

“What are you thinking?” You turned to find Suguru. “These kids suck, look at this.” Your hand motioned to them, they were getting beat up by Fushiguro who was putting no effort into battling the group of 5. Suguru smiled, closing his eyes, “Well it takes something special to hold your own against someone who’s well trained with a heavenly restriction y/n.” It sounded like he was teasing you. You side eyed him, “I could take him.” You joked and Suguru laughed, shaking his head, “I’m sure you could, but what are you really thinking? You didn’t even notice Satoru standing behind you for 10 minutes not too long ago. He was so offended by your lack of attention he ran to me to come find you.” You rolled your eyes, “Hard to believe that’s really how my superior acts.”

“Well?” Suguru asked, giving you a closed eye smile, it reminded you of a cyndaquil. You sighed, closing your own eyes, “thinking about marriage regretfully.”

You turned to see his eyes widened, “Sukuna proposed? Do you not want to marry him y/n?” He spoke in an incredulous whisper. While looking around, “No, he didn’t propose, and it’s not that I don't see myself marrying him if he ever did propose it’s…”

You fell silent, eyes looking away, “Don’t tell me your planning on over throwing the jujutsu world and that’s why you won’t commit Y/n.” He raised a brow at you and your eyes met his, “I, no! Maybe… no! Well actually…” your head tilted to the side, “no, no no that’s not it I don’t care about that, I don’t wanna say this on school ground because you never know who’s listening. But it’s not that I don’t see myself marrying Sukuna, I don’t see Sukuna marrying me at all.” Suguru gave you a look.

“Y/n you truly are a fool,” you gave him a look back, “A man doesn’t pay thousands for matching robes and kimonos for just any event because he’s just in a relationship y/n. You might not see it, but almost everyone else in this school can see it as plai- stink stink! I made you something.” You turned away from Suguru with a smile, “Stink stink huh?” He sighed, shoulders slumping, “He’s spending too much time on the American side of social media y/n. If I didn’t love him I wouldn’t tolerate this, the same way I can almost confidently say if Sukuna doesn’t genuinely love you even a bit, he wouldn’t tolerate you being as close as you are.” You watched as Suguru smiled, as satoru stood beside him. “A macaroni bracelet.” You smiled watching as Satoru tied it on Suguru’s wrist, “Now we match Suguru.” Suguru laughed through his nose, “That’s why we got custom rings Satoru.” Gojo pouted so you don’t want it?” You turned “Well I’ll leave both of you too it,” you waved them off leaving your poor students to Fushiguro’s hands.

Walking the school you were left thinking to yourself and judging your attire with every window you passed. Out of everyone in this school there was no doubt in your mind that you customise your requests more frequently than anyone, to think just last month you requested this style when Yaga was ordering necessities. You’d even gotten Sukuna to help you change your design a bit, he even branded the back of your shirt collar to have the mark his tongue had oddly enough.

“Where are you going, brat?” Sure enough there was Sukuna standing in an open window looking unimpressed and intrigued at how you were going to walk by him without notice.

“Oh, Sukuna! Sorry, I’ve just been out of it all day.” You looked at his face quickly, instantly deciding it was better to look at the floor. “Come here, it’s been a thousand years since my hearing started to go.” You laughed stepping closer knowing that was a lie, he could probably hear Geto hiding from Gojo half the time. Just as you got closer he grabbed the front of your shirt dragging you out the window like it was nothing. Leaving you stumbling and holding onto him before you felt the ground, the cigarette between his lips didn’t falter, “What’s wrong.” It wasn’t a question. “‘M just tired I guess, and my students aren’t doing too well. They should have a decent grasp on their techniques but it feels like they only get more and more hopeless. It feels like I’m not getting anywhere. So I asked Toji to rough em up for a while so they can at least work with cursed tools and close combat if they fail at their techniques.”

Sukuna was staring and listening, sure you said one thing, but he knew better than that. You never explained so deeply unless you were really trying to convince him of something to avoid something else. “Alright then.” Was all he said leaning back against the wall taking a drag from his cigarette. You let yourself fall into his side against his arm, you stayed like that for a bit until he pulled his arm free, dropping it over your shoulders and pulling you closer into his side. He didn’t know how to ask you what was troubling you so deeply so instead he let you find comfort in his side. He held you tighter when he felt you bury your face in his side, hand coming up to weakly grab his shirt. His hand rubbed your shoulder while he dropped his cigarette, stepping it out of existence, before he pulled you around to his chest. His arm stayed around your shoulders, that hand moving to the back of your head holding you head against his chest, his secondhand came to your back slowly rubbing up and down, resting his chin on your head trying to comfort you the way he had seen you comfort a child on one mission. Your sniffle sounded so pathetic yet it squeezed his chest in a way he didn’t understand, “Thank you Kuna…” your slight tug at his shirt didn’t loosen until you pulled away from him and he let you go.

The sun had started to set leaving you in an orange glow, you were curious why he was even around the school if he didn’t have a class today. “Why ar-I had a mission it was over before it began.” You smiled up at him, “I see.”

“Let me walk you back to your dorm, before your brats come to look for you.” His hands tucked into his pockets, you were quick to hug his arm when he offered his elbow with the slightest movement. It was nice, almost like you could have a normal life with Sukuna one day. Your walk was quiet and nice, you listened to Sukuna talk about his mission being a special grade, and a local deity of some village. She had been parading around saying she was the God of Curses, so he had to prove a point. You were humoured by the way his chest puffed when you offered praise saying of course The True King of Curses would be able to conquer Gods with ease.

It was after you were standing in your door facing him that you noticed him lingering. Did he want to come in? You were about to ask when he held out his right hand, you were confused, “Let me see your hand.” You were quick to put your hand in his and studied your hand with a blank expression, you became self conscious of your nails and what if your hands looked funny??? What if- you stopped feeling his thumb run over your knuckles, “Interesting.” Was all he said before letting your hand go.

“Rest y/n,” you watched as he stepped back, “Do your best to not worry so much. Only a fool would waste their life away wondering if something deemed impossible would ever really happen or not.” You were confused until your phone rang. You pulled it out looking away from Sukuna’s retreating figure. It was a message in a group chat with Geto, Gojo, and Shoko, ‘Oh, our little Y/n is taking a man to her home.’ Shoko sent a clear picture of where you were holding onto Sukuna’s arm, he was staring down at you, you were looking up at him, and your dorm house was very clearly in frame. Then Geto sent an image, “It seems she had it planned from earlier today.” It was a video of Sukuna dragging you out the window followed by a picture of the way Sukuna held you against him. Gojo finished you off, “I will give it till the end of the year and she’s either pregnant or getting married.”

—- —- —- —- —-

Spring days warmed to summer afternoons as months passed, you found yourself dying on the engawa in your new uniform. It was a light material and fitted long sleeve shirt and loose pants like Suguru’s, you’d take Toji’s advice and get shoes like his, they were perfect for slipping off and throwing at people like Gojo even if they’d never hit him. He’d forget in the moment and would fold easily.

One thing didn’t change, the mark of Sukuna stayed permanently embroidered on your shirt. “Y/n?” You lifted your head from the wood, opening your eyes, “Oh, hi.” You smiled at Shoko who gave you a sympathetic look, “Why aren’t you at the school? We’ve been looking for you.”

“Oh, my kids are on a mission and I get the feeling they won’t be back till tomorrow. I didn’t want to do any extra work so I just came home.” She watched as you moved to lay on your side, one leg stretched out and the other propped up. Your head being half up by an arm that was propped up, your free hand grabbing a fan to fan yourself, “It’s so hot even in the shade it’s ridiculous, I need the fall season to come back.”

She watched you, “Your significant other was looking for Y/N, maybe you should find him?” She shrugged, “But that’s all I know though, have fun.”

You whined licking your feet, with the summer festivities there have been so many festivals, tourists, and things festering, everyone’s been on double time. Meaning you hadn’t seen Sukuna as frequently as before, and now he was looking for you? You should have called him, but your phone fell off the engawa and you hadn’t picked it up, and Shoko had left before you remembered. They passed as you laid there spacing out in your own head in fantasies of arguments you’d probably never have but preparing so you could win. Your argument with Gojo was interrupted with Sukuna’s voice, “How long are you planning to ignore me woman?” You rushed sitting up forcing your stiff muscles to cooperate.

“I wasn’t ignoring you, I was just…” your head tilted to the side, “thinking over a conversation I had with Satoru.” He knew instantly you were just arguing with a figurative Gojo in your head, oddly enough he had caught Satoru doing the same. He humoured himself thinking the two of you had some unknown connection to insult and argue with one another. “Take this and get ready, we’re going out tonight.”

You were excited the moment you saw the box, Sukuna surprisingly had very good taste in attire, but what you were more excited for was that if he got you a new set of robes it means he also had a new set of robes to match. You jumped up carrying the heavy box with you getting ready to run into your dorm before you stopped, placing the box down and being about eye level with Sukuna thanks to the raised engawa. You pulled his face to the side kissing his cheek, “Thank you, I’ll get ready quickly.” Just as you were about to rush off you stopped smiling sheepishly, “Will you pass me my phone? Please?” He looked down following your finger, there it was, your phone. He reluctantly picked it up muttering something under his breath until he saw your Lock Screen. There was no chance in hell he hadn’t noticed someone following both of you to your home. Yet there was proof, he was becoming too comfortable with you. The picture from behind, of you holding onto his arm from months ago. He passed you your phone, “I’ll be back after you let me know you’re ready.” You smiled nodding, “I’ll call you as soon as I finish up.”

—- —- —- —- —-

It took you an hour to have a quick shower, and fix the robes you thought were so pretty. They were light blue and white, and you couldn’t help unceremoniously flailing your arms around making the extended fabric of your sleeves flutter and fly around with loud sounds, “It’s so pretty.” Your little pose in the mirror made you feel cute before you tied your hair back with the blue hair ribbon. It was failure after failure until you gave up and Sukuna arrived. He walked in to watch you aggressively pulling the ribbon out of your hair flinching when you lost 2 or 3 hairs. You watched Sukuna standing behind you when you were aggressively tie your hair to fail, finally he smacked your hand lightly when you tried to yank the ribbon out again. “Stop mistreating my things L/n.” His voice was a stern warning when he slipped the ribbon from your hand, you looked down slightly feeling his hands run over your hair. His fingers running over your scalp pulling a bit of your hair back, you watched through the mirror as he pulled the ribbon from between his lips tying it easily, you were going to move but you noticed how his hand lingered on the strand of hair tied by the ribbon. He let it slowly slip from his hold, “We need to leave.”

Sukuna had brought you to walk with him through the Arashiyama Bamboo grove. It was a summer night, but also the night of a festival meaning it wouldn’t be as busy as you normally would be. It was exactly what you expected as you walked through the Bamboo forest, full moon rising and lighting up the sky.

You held onto Sukuna’s arm, head laid on his shoulder as he casually led you through the space. Until you made it to decent sized clearing you’d seen many tourist use for photos. “Sukuna,” your voice was like a whisper. His eyes flicked to look down at you, “hm.” “Can we take a picture here? This is the first time we’ve been together here and I’ve seen people take pictures here, so maybe we can….” You were smiling at him hopefully. He looked at you a second longer than you liked to admit, “Your ambition is palpable, I’ll feed into your desires for now y/n.” You didn’t miss the spark in his eyes, as you handed him your phone, he set it up along with his on the fence point across from where you stood. It was weird for him to use his phone, usually any photos you took you’d send to him whether he’d ask or not and he’d be content with that.

Still he stood by your side, you pulled his heavy arm around his waist to rest your head on his shoulder. Your right arm behind his back to hug his waist, your left hand reached out to take his right hand to hold it in the picture. It was cute, your phone screen flashed but Sukuna’s hadn’t so you stayed still hoping it would. That was until you felt Sukuna pull himself away, you looked at him about to stop him.

Your expression was priceless, your dropped jaw, wide eyes. The look of disbelief, the way your hands smacked your face covering your eyes and moving down to cover your mouth while you started to tear up. He hadn’t even had time to ask the question before you were crying, “Listen to me before you started crying y/n.” You sniffled, wiping your face vigorously and unceremoniously with your sleeves nodding and trying to pay attention to him.

He tried his best to look at you, but his eyes faltered and he took a deep breath, “I understand the concept of marriage in our eyes were to completely different things,” he rolled his eyes, “I’ve heard you say it many many times that if you ever married a man it would be because you’re affections were deeply requited. My own,” he closed his eyes clenching his jaw for a second, “My own interests in marriage were strictly political or to produce what could be a stronger generation.” His eyes were somewhere beyond you, before he settled on your face, you could see the brief flash of vulnerability, “When I was an ambitious and aggravating brat I had only ever thought of marriage as a way to improve one’s lineage, as the golden age of sorcery came to an end for its own reason, my ideals of a political marriage have come to an for one sole reason.” He opened the ring box showing a flashy golden ring, “Your presence is peculiar, your ambition and confidence are palpable, there is no soul on this earth that has ever managed to catch the attention of my body, soul and mind. I feel as if our lives have become ensnared with one another like the wild wisteria. As displeasing as it sounds, I can wholeheartedly admit y/n, that in all my years, with every breath, I am gratified, elated, and beyond pleased to have found you, so now I ask you,” you were tearing up at his little speech, “Y/n…” he paused and you could feel his judgement for your years before you saw the smile tug at the edge of his lips, he knew he had you hooked and you wouldn’t say no even if he made you stand there for another 30 minutes, “Will you have the honour in marrying- YES! Sukuna, yes!” You tacked him in a hug, kissing him and kicking him back, he held you with one arm snapping the box closed to not lose your ring. He was sat back on the ground, you were in a weird position of kneeling and lying on him while you wrapped your arms around his neck kissing him, he kissed you back pulling you against him tighter in a rougher kiss. You laughed against his lips pulling away taking his face in your hands kissing his forehead, cheeks and lips again. He let you, amused by your actions he didn’t fight off your public displays of affection, instead he revelled in the feeling of your lips on his skin until you stopped offering to help him up. After he stood you were snuggling up to his side hugging his arm, you didn’t care about the right, you were content enough knowing he had asked the question, at this rate in your brain you were saying he could give you a bread tie with a craft gem and you’d probably show it off anyways. He looked down at you, your little love struck closed eye smile. Still he took your hand and you opened your eyes watching as he popped open the white swan ring box, sliding the ring onto your finger, it was a perfect fit. You ooo’ed before reaching up to his face to pull him down and kiss him again. You were going to pull away when you felt his hand pull you back into him, he kissed you this time, “This is your warning y/n, if I find you mistreating my things against you will be punished, hmm.” You felt the embarrassment and heat on your face when you buried your face against his shoulder, “I uh… I understand .”

—- —- —- —- —-

“Alright- so as Satoru so kindly pointed out,” you forced a smile at Gojo who snickered, this is a waste of time because Mr. Nah, I’m Sato Gojo, wants to prove he’s the best he’s taking all special grade assignments this months everyone just throw your stuff at Hoe-jo.” Shoko snickered and Gojo protested “That’s not what I meant! I don’t wanna get stuck doing all the special grades!”

“WELL THAT'S TOO DAMN BAD SA TO RU You’re doing them because you made me mad” your line made Sukuna laugh through his nose catching almost everyone’s attention for a second, before he reclined in his sets arms crossed his chest.

“Now, Yaga wants us to list down things we need for this new semester and no one is going to take time later this week to do it so I’m doing my best to do a general list,” everyone watched as you started to hang a large paper pad on the roll in board, “So this is the list of general items everyone usually requests.” You motioned with your hand to the names off most of the teachers, “you see here-IM SORRY-“ Gojo cut you off looking at you in disbelief, “but what’s that???” He was pointing at you accusingly and you were confused just to see Geto, Shoko and Haibara as equally judgmental, Nanamin, Toji and Sukuna were having their own conversation, you felt your eye twitch “what do you mean SATORU, I JUST EXPLAINED ITS A LIST- NO Y/N WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT DO I MEAN!? LOOK AT THAT!” He pointed again and you looked at the board, “Satoru please I will cry if your playing with me again,” Sukuna looked over briefly at the mention of your crying. Geto spoke up, “Y/n… I really don’t think he’s playing if you just think about this for a second.” You watched as he waved his left hand around as if telling you to continue, “Suguru, If I didn’t think he was playing I would 100% give him an answer, and I did-“ Shoko gave you an incredulous look, “Sweetie, y/n.” You watched as she held up her left hand, taking her ring finger between her thumb and pointer finger. It was then you slowly looked at the board, your hand splayed out on the paper. There was your ring, gleaming at its mention under the school's light.

“Oh… THAT'S what you mean.” You looked back at Gojo, he was giving you an “Are you serious look?.” You cleared your throat, “You see Satoru, all those times you say you move in silence because you're a beast of prey or something like that?” He raised a brow, “So you do watch my snap stories? “Regrettably yes, they make me laugh and cringe, but you see -OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT!” You pointed out the window with pure fear, they all rushed over letting you slip out the room unnoticed, “Escaped that situation.” Just as you were making your way down the hallway you heard screaming coming from the room, more specifically Satoru, “WHO SAID YOU COULD MARRY MY Y/N RYOMEN!?” you heard the whack clear as day, “GAH Sugguurruuu why’d you hit meeee???” You smiled to yourself, “Who said she was your y/n Satoru?”

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@simpforyoubitch @domainofmarie @ilovemybabies378 @cyder-puff

[birdybirdnerd]

👀 bifrost incident stage play????

youve opened pandoras box my friend. get ready

okay so i had this idea back in 2019 when i first got into the mechs and specifically first heard tbi. im a theater kid and have chronic amv/animatic brain where i visualize things real easy, so when i first listened to this album i was SLAMMED with the realization that, actually, tbi is PERFECT for a stage adaptation

imagine, if you will:

inspector lyf, at his desk side-stage and in front of the curtains. stalking across the stage, talking direct to the audience as he waves the black box, setting the stage and the story ahead and theorizing as to whats going on

the first chords of odins launch speech are heard, and the curtains open wide on the exterior of the train, odin at a podium, and a crowd listening intently

during each of lyfs speaking parts (cold case/person of interest/etc), he walks across the stage and explains things, as the set changes behind him. new characters arrive, spotlights shining as lyf wonders what theyre doing there, if they were the one that sabotaged the train

in the style of kabuki theater, the stagehands are dressed all in black, silently moving the set around the actors, changing things and completely invisible, the audience accustomed to ignoring them at this point

lokis song comes, and the whole time she sings, she is beset by these stagehands, dragging her around like another set piece, harassing her, interacting with her but still invisible to everyone else. sigyn tries to get her attention during her song, tries to pull her into their wedding dance- but the stagehands keep pulling loki into dances of their own, all while sigyn has no idea why her wife wont so much as look at her

losing track, lyf is losing track and the suspects are lined up onstage, singing, taunting as lyf stalks among them, grabbing their arms and faces and demanding answers. as he loses his mind, falling into despair, they turn to him and grab him back, pull him down, yell the only words they have left at him as he despairs.

the live band is dressed in theme, all steampunk-ed up, on a mini stage off opposite lyf with minimal lighting on them, until- expert testimony comes by, lyf bemoans having to go to the imprisoned bandits that annoy him so, as he crosses the stage, only for the lights to rise on the band and guess who theyve been the whole time!

red signal. lyf stands center stage, frozen in place as he chants, summoning that squamous something from beyond the veil, as those stagehands, all-black, all-invisible, shift and change before the audiences eyes, pulling out rainbow scarves, makeup once hidden shining bright and vivid in sudden black light. they dash off the stage as the rip between worlds widens, run amok the audience, slamming through doors and screeching as lyf voice raises higher, higher, until-

intermission

and when the audience comes back, the stage is... wrong

more black light, the set has warped and twisted. rainbow lights shimmer brighter on the backdrop, splashing in pools on the stage and the actors faces. the stagehands run free now, the monsters from behind the veil, the unholy things now attacking the actors directly, tearing them apart as the train falls into chaos

thor confronts the all-mother, transformed; she stands at the top of a podium now, the top of a platform while her costume has expanded around her, grandiose robes melting into a massive, writhing puppet manned by the stagehands, a bright and staring eye projected behind her head, staring at the audience, watching. thor fights off the hands, loses, and finally throws his hammer at the eye- replaced with a bright, white crack as the stars claim them both

loki and sigyn share a final tender moment in the engine room, they get their dance in before sigyn slips the line into her wifes arm. they share a final kiss as the curtains close on them, leaving...

lyf, standing center-stage. bottle in hand, exhausted, terrified. he bids the audience good luck, laughs wryly about the bandits disappearing - at some point, the live band quietly disappeared from their side-stage - and slips behind the curtain

terminus

the radio static fizzes, and as we hear the panic spread across the galaxy, the curtains part for bows. the bell tolls, flashing that bright, staring eye back as all other lights go off, plummeting everyone into dark and stark relief

-

so yeah, ive thought of this a normal amount

[carlos-in-glasses]

Thank you for the tag @welcometololaland @lemonlyman-dotcom @strandnreyes @three-drink-amy @sznofthesticks 🩷

A few More than seven sentences...but I didn't do WIP Weds so let's say this makes up for it... This is from the now-published Search and Rescue, which I couldn't share before because it was the secret cupid gift for @honeybee-taskforce (tagging you too for this, if you want to!!!)

Carlos pulls on his robe – a wedding gift of plush black flannel with a white Mr embroidered over his heart; TK has one too – which he’d slung onto the chair after his earlier shower. Although, to Carlos’ human mind, this is the most logical garment to reach for, the dog in the room seems to think he’s dressed up as a giant tugging rope, just for him. He proceeds to growl playfully while yanking on the robe’s cord, forcing Carlos to twirl around.

Unhelpfully, TK is laughing.

“Cuddles, sit!” Carlos demands, which he does, with a whimper, but without letting go of the cord.

“Looks like he’ll be walking you,” TK says, massaging Dolores’ back as she splays over his lap, unable to resist him. 

“Fine.” Carlos huffs. “Whatever gets us through this.”

Carlos starts walking out of the bedroom and realizes that TK is absolutely right. Cuddles keeps the robe’s cord in his mouth, like he’s being a very responsible Carlos owner. Carlos fixes Cuddles’ leash on regardless, and man and dog stay tethered to each other as they venture all the way down in the elevator and out into the street, which is pleasant with its cool dampness and washy moonlight and street lamps. Calm in its four o’clock silence. Because no sensible person is awake right now.

Open tag and tags below:

@cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @heartstringsduet @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @eclectic-sassycoweyes @orchidscript @theghostofashton @goodways @paperstorm @thisbuildinghasfeelings @noxsoulmate @bonheur-cafe @liminalmemories21 @redshirt2 @ladytessa74 @louis-ii-reyes-strand @carlos-tk @chicgeekgirl89 @rmd-writes @freneticfloetry @ambiguouspenny @wandering-night19 @reyesstrand @my-little-tilly @fallout-mars @whatsintheboxmh @sugdenlovesdingle @sanjuwrites @alrightbuckaroo @never-blooms @lightningboltreader @chaotictarlos @jesuisici33 - If you want to share/haven't already! No pressure ever! ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

[wellthebardsdead]

The mourned & the heretics pt7

Part 6 here

———

Riiju-Lei: *seated in the temple library after an overwhelming makeover, now dressed in heavy robes, ears pierced and adorned with gold hoops, neck graced with a large golden collar, and golden bands and bangles adorning his wrists and ankles, contrasting and yet complimenting, his horrendously heavy and dark robes. Now sweating aggressively as he overheats while trying to read through the few scriptures and documents nerevar could save on house dagoth before the temple destroyed most of it*

Nerevar: *walks over holding more scrolls* I had to do a bit of digging but I found the- LeiLei?! Are you okay?!

Riiju-Lei: I-is there not something else I can wear? I-i understand as voryn dagoth there are things expected of me- and back home I’d be happy to wear this as it’s very warm and comfy but, it’s so hot here and I’m dying-

Nerevar: *puts the scrolls down and closes the book helping him to his feet* yes of course we’ll find something immediately- *gently ushers him from the library and down the hall ignoring several councillors attempting to get his attention before finally reaching their room and immediately stripping him of the dense fabric* Im so sorry Lei I completely forgot you wouldn’t be used to our climate or being so heavily dressed.

Riiju-Lei: *visibly blushing, now just left in his under cloth and adorned in gold* it’s okay moon and star, you don’t need to apo- Ah? What are you?

Nerevar: *gently touching a seemingly random spot on his back, looking at it in confusion before rubbing it* I think the maids got some of the gold ink on you when doing your makeup for the morning ceremonies-

Riiju-Lei: they only put it on my third eye though? They went nowhere near my bac-ngh nerevar that hurts.

Nerevar: *realises how hard he was rubbing and stops* I- forgive me don’t dreamer it just isn’t coming off- *sighs* I’ll try again when we have a bath, for now let’s find you something more comfortable to wea- *finally pauses taking in the sight before him, his beautiful dunmer fiancé standing almost bare before him, only covered by a cloth and dripping in gold against his dark grey skin* azuras mercy-

Riiju-Lei: *giggles* don’t be getting excited now~ you have a lot of duties to attend to before our wedding and us setting off to explore morrowind~

Nerevar: *drops to his knees and holds him around his waist* dibella or mephala could only wish to hold the power you have over me. *looks up at him in awe* how can I not get excited when I look at you as you are- *pauses finally noticing the gold bars through his still sore and very sensitive nipples* … *face turning bright red as his nose starts to bleed*

Riiju-Lei: n-nerevar?! Oh gods! *removes the cloth from his waist holding it to his nose only making him even more aroused*

Nerevar: *picks him up and tosses him onto the bed before throwing the cloth aside and pouncing onto him* Gods I’m weak!

Riiju-Lei: *giggling staring up at him* Considering how you just threw me like I weighed nothing I disagree~

*meanwhile outside their room in the corriror*

Xelzaz: *holding some books the archmagister had found that might help Riiju better understand who he is* so he just launched the grandmaster out of the room?!

Divayth Fyr: yes, I have to say it was quite entertaining indeed. *snickers* he couldn’t do magic for shit, that would be the closest he’ll ever come to telekinesis~

Xelzaz: heheh, it’s incredible though right? I’ve witnessed him breath fire, summon storms, bring meteors down from the heavens. But he’s so naturally peaceful youd never think he’d have so much power within him.

Divayth Fyr: indeed. Those who have power are often peaceful and quiet in nature, those without it, are loud and want everyone to think they’re powerful. *sighs* hopefully these manuscripts I’ve kept will help him in some way and ease the burden of his- *pauses hearing the squeaking of a bed and the laboured moans and cries of two very excited elves* …heheh, well done nerevar. *snickers* Let’s go put the books in library instead shall we Xelzaz?

Xelzaz: *pulling his hood over his eyes* oh gods strike me down now I’m so embarrassed-

*a few hours later*

Taliesin: you’re staring again.

Kaidan: *leaning against a tree, smiling up at Taliesin as the two enjoy a break from exploring the city* can you blame me? You’re all I think about, y’know~?

Taliesin: *reaches up picking a peach from the tree and taking a bite before holding it down to his lips* and you are insufferably sweet, y’know~?

Kaidan: *takes a bite and waggles his eyebrows at him*

Taliesin: *snorts and laughs* stop being cute~

???: Well, you two seem to be having fun.

Taliesin: *looks down and nearly falls out of the tree seeing what Riiju is wearing*

Kaidan: *clears his throat* The um- traditional clothing of this land is um. Interesting.

Riiju-Lei: *dressed in house dagoths colours, flowy fabric draped elegantly around his hips and a tight sleeveless cropped top just barely covering his chest and showing off his torso beautifully, held up around his neck by his gold collar like the arm bands keeping two fingerless gloves secured just beneath his shoulders* Its quite revealing I know, but it beats suffering from heat stroke like I was earlier. Besides, my house is apparently known for music and dance rather fittingly~

Kaidan: I’m certain nerevar would be enjoying the view if he were here to see it~ I’m betting he was the one who picked it out yeah?

Riiju-Lei: obviously~ I do hope I didn’t wear him out too much, he had to run off for a last minute meeting- *snickers* he was wobbling like a new born deer when he left~

*Meanwhile*

Nerevar: *fixing his hair as he hurries into the meeting room again to see the Archmaster of Redoran waiting for him with two spies kneeling at his feet* What is it Archmaster? I was told it was urgent.

Archmaster of Redoran: *shakily removes a small bundle from his sleeve and unwraps it revealing the mask of sotha sil, vivecs blood now dried and caked onto its mouth* Someone infiltrated the bowels of the clockwork city my lord and placed this mask on the body of sotha sil… The guards were all slaughtered from a giant puncture hole through their chests where their hearts would have been. The priests state the spirit of Seht over took all of the city’s command systems and sent it into lockdown enforcing security measures to stop the one responsible, he only just relinquished control last evening but, when priests attempted to commune with him he did not answer to their prayers or rituals…

Nerevar: he used what influence he had to protect his city I suppose… *takes the mask, looking stoic in expression but unable to stop his hands trembling, knowing deep down who would be responsible* What of the culprit… were they caught?…

Spy 1: *bows and sits upright* addressing lord nerevar. No sir, no one was obtained. Damage control is being done on the city as we speak.

Nerevar: thank you…

Archmaster of Redoran: lord nerevar there is… one more pressing matter with this incident…

Spy 2: *nervously bows but does not raise showing the news is truely grim* The body of Almalexia is missing…

Nerevar: … *turns and walks out of the room* Ordinators! Put the city on lockdown! IMMEDIATELY!

[falllpoutboy]

nobody asked but in my opinion, these are the only costumes i found to be good from the show

[burnedbyshoto]

seven

Rich and powerful men can marry seven different women in a wild attempt to produce the perfect heir. Todoroki Enji is one of these powerful men, and you’re his seventh bride.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: todoroki enji (endeavor) x fem!reader

warnings: edo period!endeavor (king henry viii inspo), forced marriage, alcohol consumption, 18+, smut, non-con, dub-con, size difference, breeding kink, rough-sex, pain, degradation, & mind break

word count: 5,750

a/n: fuck that family who started the fire in socal. my campus is literally raining ashes up in oregon. im so tired. two exams monday. im going to be going on meds for anxiety and adhd soon, so thats new. uh,,, this is like LOL its a bit bad,,, but I really, really lust over asshole enji who only wants to breed bitches and thats it. this is for the bnharem fantasy au collab, i wan’t that creative sorry see ya later skaters.

PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS. PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS. PLEASE CAREFULLY READ THE WARNINGS.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

One.

Fate: Spared.

Two.

Fate: Executed.

Three.

Fate: Died during childbirth.

Four.

Fate: Spared.

Five.

Fate: Executed.

Six.

Fate: Executed.

Seven.

Fate: Unknown.

Silks and expensive cloth held a scent that was irreplicable.

The smooth smell of the layers upon layers of fabric wrapped around your body did nothing to quench the building layer of ice in your stomach.

You were scared.

Rightfully so.

Six women came before you, and if you wanted to live, you would have to do better than them.

Marrying the Todoroki Clan head was something that most women could only dream of accomplishing in this day and age. The Todoroki’s, after all, are strong, rich, powerful, undefeated. They held the real power in this age, more influential and notable than the emperor that repeatedly begged the family for support, be it in power, strength, or money.

But, it was also known knowledge that the man who sat at the head of the clan, who held the power of the Todoroki name and future, was a man not to be trifled with.

Todoroki Enji was an endeavor of a man.

There had always been whispers about the head of the family, how he stood eight feet tall, and how his body was not lean like most warriors, but thick and savagely sturdy. His hair was red, blessed by the sun some claimed, or cursed by the devil others alleged. His temper and barbaric nature on the battlefield were, of course, rumored by the people on your lands, who had been indebted by the Todoroki Clan because of their protection and profits. 

Todoroki Enji was not a man to be trifled with.

Especially not if the rumors were true.

He was painted as a demon by everyone. Still, Enji was no demon, he was human, and if he was to allow the Todoroki Clan's legacy to continue, he needed an heir… but since he was human, he was aging.

Six women.

You knew that it was six women because you had been alive to experience five of them.

You remember the newly married couple being paraded through the streets.

Todoroki Enji remained hidden within his vehicle's confines while his new wife, doe-eyed, smiling, effervescent, would greet the gathered crowds. You often wondered what they thought when you would conjure in respect for the man who ensured your childhood and adolescence were not corrupted by thieves and horror.

You wondered what she thought when promising the village elders that she would produce a strong, male heir. You raised an eyebrow at the thought that maybe, just maybe they believed that they would be different -- be able to birth a strong, capable male heir.

Six wives.

Twenty children.

Two weak, sickly boys.

A whole clan of girls.

Were they idiotic, blind, or batshit insane to ever believe that they would be different?

You undoubtedly didn’t know.

Three of the six had been executed.

Three of six had been proud to state they would produce a strong male Todoroki heir, noting that his two sons -- Touya and Natsuo -- would be removed from the family as soon as their strong son was born. 

One of those three birthed a weak, sickly baby boy. She passed in childbirth and took him with her one day after.

Another of those three birthed four girls, two sets of twins because, of course, they were given two chances. She was executed on treason.

The final of those three had simply pissed him off; rumor had it. Her pussy was too tight, unwilling to sheath the thick massive cock that belonged to him… no point in breaking something that wouldn’t bend when there was more pussy out there (you remember she had been ugly too).

But what you didn’t expect was for his clan members to come through your village's streets with an announcement in hand.

Of the six women before you, three had held significant political power -- the three that survived.

Of the remaining three, there was a poet, the other a woman soldier of his, and the last being a clan member.

You had never known what the decision process was, not even a little bit, so when men dressed in dark robes with the Todoroki sigil and katana’s strapped to their sides infiltrated your village, you were on edge.

“All women who are fertile and beautiful, line up, and no, we don’t care if you’re married,” was the short, almost taunting order, and you had never felt sicker.

You were among the seventy females in your village that matched the requirement they demanded. 

Your sight was almost glued to the floor as they walked through you all, your fists grabbing your light blue kimono as the men groped the women in line, teasing the breasts of the pregnant women, rutting their poorly concealed cocks through the valley of asses, shoving between some girls thighs with loopy, proud smiles on their faces, beating any man who attempted to protect any one of their honors. 

But you were towards the end of the line, standing where they decided to save for last, and you were helpless to it all. You watched knowing that of the sixty-something women ahead of you, none of them remained. 

The whimpers, cries, and whines grew louder by your ear, your spine rigid and sore with its tightness as the girl beside you dropped to the floor in her fear. You couldn’t bother looking at her as the parting of their robes seemed to be akin to gunpowder going off in your ears. The horrified squeal on her tongue being silenced when a cock slammed through her lips, the tears pouring down her face useless, if anything, only encouraging their roughhousing. 

Your lip curled at the sound of her pathetic whining, the incessant need of her to tell them that she was not okay with this was nails on an iron plate. It annoyed you, it pissed you off.

“Look at this one,” the snickering laughter of a man breathed by your ear, instantly stilling and freezing the anger that was once radiating like fire from your chest. “She doesn’t look ashamed… she looks like she’s jealous. Maybe these common bitches do have someone good enough for Boss.”

Spluttering gasps and hiccuping cries came from the ground, and you couldn’t even bother glancing at the woman you had known all your life laying on the floor, kimono ripped open, and white, sticky cum dripping from her mouth.

“Well, there’s nothing like taking her out for a test run,” came a sleazy smile, and when two hands gripped at your clothed breasts, you didn’t so much as raise a brow at their perverted actions.

You had won in the end against them. Each perverted, twisted intention they placed against you, dirt crusted fingernails digging into your arms, purpling, throbbing cocks pressed into your backside… it hadn’t mattered.

You didn’t budge.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t make a noise.

A simple smirk remaining on their faces at your inevitable victory against the other women in your village -- against the crying, cum stuffed women who stared at your victorious and stubborn form without a clue on how you managed.

And where did that land you?

In a room with only one window too high up for an average person to reach, white silks and fabrics adorning your body, and ceremonial ornaments in your hair.

Six women came before you, but today, you would become the seventh.

With you, there would be seven women to have wed Todoroki Enji, but you weren’t scared because you feared the fate of the six before you. No, you were much better than them; you already knew that for a fact.

The anxiety that coursed through your veins created that ice pit in your stomach came from one place and one place only.

Your cunt already sobbed at the thought of even attempting at taking his thick, veiny cock you knew was the size of your thigh later tonight.

A virgin like you had no chance of survival.

The doors to your room soon slammed open, and your back stiffened at the sight of a familiar face of an escort you had. His eyes didn’t meet yours; they were focused at the wall, his face tense and tight.

“It’s best we leave now, y/l/n, Todoroki-sama doesn’t like waiting.”

The weight of the white silk on your body felt like a brick when you stood up from your position, and you wondered if the sweat from your pits and palms would damage the kimono -- if it was noticeable. But you had a duty, and as number seven, you had no motive to be executed before even getting the chance to prove yourself.

You knew how wishes worked; the secret was in being silent about your desire… never reveal what your wish was, or the world wouldn’t grant it.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself every time you heard the all too familiar words of: “I’ll produce a fine Todoroki heir,” through the lips of the dead and the divorced. They had spoken it to the universe, acknowledged what they needed, and the cruel world failed them each and every time.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, so consumed by the idea of what would happen tonight, you hardly realized that with the heaving puffing breathes you took to keep up with the man’s ridiculous strides, that you had made it to the shrine that you had been brought to wed.

But you couldn’t even take in the beauty of the shrine to your left because you were more interested in who was standing in the pathway towards the shrine.

Todoroki Enji.

He stood on the stone-paved path, his bulky, beefy arms folded across his chest, the fabric of his kimono taut and tight against his flexed muscle, and a sour frown on his face. It was as the rumors had spoken, you realized when you stopped mere strides away from your future husband, he was a man that looked both godly and cursed.

Bright red hair glistened like copper pans under the sunlight, waving and flickering like a raging fire with every small burst of wind. He stood at almost eight feet high, maybe eight feet, you had no idea. All you knew is that as your feet stumbled when getting near to this man, you were dwarfed, feeling like a child next to their father as you gazed up at his unmoving, scarred face. His eyes didn’t look down at you, but even you could see the clear, sharp blue in them, and for the first time, you questioned reality.

Was this man truly human? Was he genuinely Japanese?

Seeing him before you made your knees buckle in fear, arousal, and anticipation.

You wanted to see what had made the sixth scream to stop.

You wanted to see just what he was hiding behind the ridiculously tight fitted kimono, but your thoughts were yanked away when his hand -- no doubt bigger than your head -- pressed to space between your shoulder blades and pushed you.

“We’re on a tight schedule,” he merely growled, his eyes burning at something a million miles away, and with a small, pitiful whimper, you allowed him to lead the way.

The wedding ceremony was… odd, to say the least.

While you had never been married, you had attended a few weddings within your lifetime already, and never once had it felt so disturbing dead and raw as it had today. This Shinto ceremony, typically doused with symbolism and motifs for the greatest possible outcome for the union between you and Todoroki Enji, was stripped from the shrine walls, leaving the walls barren and cold as both he and the priest proceeded through the ceremony at breakneck speed.

It wasn’t something Enji wanted; you realized that clearly the moment he refused to meet your gaze; his blue eyes remaining on the priest.

Everything the both of you performed together was done haphazardly, the lack of symbols you had always wished to see in your wedding ceremony forgotten, undoubtedly seen as a farce by a man like Todoroki Enji, but still, your heart ached.

You hadn’t noticed when the ceremony had ended; Enji never once allowing you to move, or do anything for that matter, by yourself. There was no use in fighting against a man who’s entire hand fit around your forearm, his thumb even resting against his fingernail -- oh yes, this man was huge.

There was no telling when he paraded you through the streets of his territory, allowing you to numbly speak to the village elders, to allow your parents to press their sweaty palms to your cheeks because god, please, please survive this, their touch practically sobbed. You smiled at them, eyes numb with the reality of what this was going to be for you, but the cheerful tone on your tongue remained optimistic and bright with every passing word. 

The scornful thoughts of the sixth woman being too weak to handle Enji had dissipated, and you wondered just what the other five did to survive what you knew was a massive fucking cock hidden beneath the shrowds of his black kimono.

You would survive, you would survive, you would survive.

But far before you were ready to, you arrived back at the Todoroki front, the wooden estate standing sturdy and strong, the air of power and aura almost tangible. The samurai and clansmen who had undoubtedly awaited for you and your now-husband (that was still odd to think about) to return. Pairs of warm, weathered hands helped you from the carriage, and without so much of a whisper of thanks, they escorted you away, heads bowed at the mercy of their leader.

Once more, you were abandoned in your room.

The window no longer allowed the streaming setting sunlight in, your room was in the eastern part of the estate, and with the nighttime coming, the setting sun was merely a memory to you.

And in that room, the tiny, unspacious room that seemed much more for a prisoner than the seventh wife of Todoroki Enji, you tried not to cry.

The door slamming open hours after you had fallen asleep had taken you by surprise.

Enji had left you to your own entertainment, and long after you were served dinner, and informed that no, Todoroki-sama would not be visiting you right now because he was busy, you had sat on the bed in your silks and robes, numbly looking at the star-filled sky. Sleep was the only thing you could do, and with the last servant visit being past midnight, you took to sleep.

Except that you forgot a sparing, important detail.

This was Todoroki Enji’s world, and you were merely his legal fuckhole.

The heavy footsteps of Enji entering the room echoed in your ear, and the door closed behind him, solidifying the end of the beginning of what you once knew. 

“Seven,” he growled into the night, and your spine snapped straight.

He loomed above you, the tatami mat suddenly feeling like a brick wall against your side, and you swallowed pathetically at the way his deep, raspy voice sent shivers down your spine.

This had been the first time you had heard him speak, all other forms of communication between him and the priest and he and his clan members had been nonverbal, solely told through those piercing blue eyes that only let you dream of what he sounded like -- of what he was demanding. But you lay confused, your eyebrows scrunched at just why he had called out the number seven?

Seven what?

You twisted where you lay, your eyes meeting his own, and despite the lack of light in the room, you could see the cold, distant glint in his eyes.

“Oh good,” he mocked, his voice low and dangerous, eyes squinted in his apparent lack of approval. “You can hear.”

“S-Seven what?” you stammer, your elbow pressing into the mat, pushing you up so that you could look at your husband, uncertainty and discomfort scorching every nerve in your body. 

You didn’t know what to do.

Then, it hit you. The bitter, numbing smell of alcohol coated in a fine layer around his skin, the small puffs of angry air from his mouth letting you know that your husband was inebriated, and your throat clenched when he began to dismantle his kimono.

“T-This isn’t a good idea!” you stammer, the white silk robes you were still dressed in because they refused to allow you a set of sleeping clothes because the marriage needed to be consummated, felt stiff and not protective enough. “You won’t produce a proper heir if you’re intoxicated.”

Enji raised an eyebrow at you, and your thudding heart failed to cease as his robes hit the floor with an unceremonious thud. 

Whiskey dick wasn’t something foreign to you; the countless men you had sucked off in your time, the numerous sex stories you had been shared with always had some instance of a man getting drunk and being able to get their cock hard, but this…?

If this was Enji’s whiskey dick, you weren’t sure what to expect of his sober cock.

His cock was already hard, the veins in his cock large, plentiful, and bulging in many areas. It was thick, without a doubt thick enough where it would take both your hands to circle around his cock, and it was long, the swollen weeping tip leaking against his abdomen. His cock was magnificent yet deadly, and your pussy spasmed in fear of having that monster all twelve plus inches shoved into your virgin cunt.

“The fuck are you doing, seven?” Enji snarled, his powerful naked legs moving toward you, his feet pressing into the mat, and his hand reaching out to you. “I didn’t marry you for you to just stare at my fucking cock like some piss-shit baby.”

There was no time to panic, protest, or even prepare yourself for the sudden sharp, dull ache in your jaw when he pressed his monster cock past your chapped, chewed lips. 

Immediately, it was overwhelming.

The engorging cock had barely passed your lips, but you were already gagging against the unwelcomed size, the horrid ache sending spilling tears down your cheeks, doing nothing but annoying the man before you. His hands gripped your hair, his eyes not even bothering to look at you as he fucked your mouth.

“Stop fucking resisting,” Enji snarled, his hips coming to meet your mouth in a vicious, unpleasant snap, the head of his cock pressing down your clenched throat, and so much of his cock still remaining far from your mouth. “Take my cock like the fucking whore I know you are, seven.”

You gasp for air, but with his cock ramming further and further down your throat, the scalding heat emitting from his skin burning your throat, making you gag and choke around him in your fear. You couldn’t breathe, you realized in a panic, and your eyes widened in fear, drool and spit spilling down your chin pathetically as Enji hums contently.

“Don’t feel so scared, seven,” Enji cruelly smirked up at the ceiling, his hips lazily, sloppily, yet powerfully delivering his cock into your bulging throat. “I heard what you did to my men, how you let them fuck you however they saw fit, how you scoffed and scowled at the other pathetic weak bitches who couldn’t handle a little groping… I thought you would like this? What is it? Never had a real fucking cock before? A little whore like yourself only gotten shitty little cocks?”

Wordlessly, you begged to be shown mercy, your vision blackening as he choked out all forms of oxygen, his war weathered body unbothered by your clawing fingers on his thighs. No, you were too weak for it to hurt him.

His hands left your hair, and you collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air, choking, and coughing for oxygen that only burned all through your system, sitting unpleasantly in your lungs while tears and saliva mixed on your throat.

“Where the fuck are do you think you’re going, seven?” Enji barked, his body suddenly looming over yours, and you felt trapped, unable to move as the mountain of a man trapped you between his sturdy arms and legs. His cock, warm and sticky with your spit and his precum, sat heavily on your stomach, the size difference between the two of you even more pronounced when the tip of his cock rested at the bottom of your ribcage. “All you did was lube up my cock for your stupid, tight pussy. Don’t think I was satisfied with that childish blowjob -- next time, if you want to cry, make sure it’s loud enough that I feel it against my cock.”

You pathetically moan at his words, the tears still falling from your eyes because your throat and jaw hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

“Please,” you gasped as his cinder hot hands pressed to your breasts against your kimono, he quickly enveloped your tender flesh in his hands despite the fabric. “Please, no more.”

“I don’t remember this marriage being about you,” he mocked, and with no more of a glinting snarl of his mouth, he tore the kimono straight off your body. The horrified scream that left your lips was silenced by the echoing slap across your face.

Pain blistered at the side of your face, and the resulting tears couldn’t be felt against your numbed skin as Enji continued his conquest, his fingers pulling and ripping any and all fabric pressed against your body.

“Get away!” you weakly whimpered, body trembling and twisting as you attempted to escape the man looming above you, finally ridding you of all dresses, hands pressing to the back of your thighs to push you into a position that he liked. “Leave me alone, leave me alone…”

There was no fire in your words, nothing but the aching fear and undeniable terror.

But the words did nothing to Enji, who continued to move you so that your tight, virgin cunt lined up with his throbbing, red cockhead. Even like this, your face was pressed into his chest. His body unworldly larger than yours, incredibly goliath compared to you.

“You know, seven, if you keep trying to escape me and you keep trying to save yourself, then why are you so fucking wet with everything I’ve done?” he growls down at you, his piercing blue eyes staring straight through you, the tears falling down your face doing nothing but encouraging him because he was right… your cunt, just like his cock, was wet, dripping with the undeniable pleasure of this all. There was a fire, a shameful fire, in your pussy, throbbing in time with the stinging pulse in your face that begged for Enji’s cock despite it all. “You fucking tiny little slut… I can feel just how my actions -- how my words -- affect you, getting you off like a bitch in heat! Your efforts to hide it are pathetic, fucking useless.”

Pain.

If you thought you knew what pain was before right now, you had to be wrong. 

Enji’s girth was overwhelming, nearly splitting your shuddering tight walls while he buried his cock entirely within you. Nausea builds in the back of your throat, a soundless shriek breaking past your bleeding lips, your hips bucking in their relentless attempt to adjust to the way that he was splitting your walls in two, and your face flushed in pain and lust press into his chest, the only part of him you could touch. 

Fuck, fuck, “fuck!” you cried, fat and painful tears pushing past your eyes, dripping down the apples of your cheeks while Enji sighed at the feeling of your hot cunt against his cock, blood seeping out of your pussy in such a pretty way he couldn’t help but smile.

“You’ve got a really tight cunt,” he observes, his hips slamming against you without warning, his mind only caring about him, setting off another round of painful screams while he situates within you. “Mhm, this is nice. A tight, young pussy always means a good womb, you’ll give me the heir I need… I’ll make sure to fuck you full of my cum.”

His hips then begin to thrust upward into you, the tip of his cock unable to reach the beginnings of your walls that he seemed to attempt to get to with each powerful blow. But it was his girth that had your body tensed, back arched in pain, eyes clenched in nothing but pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

“Hey.” SLAP. Your head snapped to the side, a burning, stinging pain on your cheek, alerting you that your eyes were closed. Your piqued breathing spluttered and so spaced between it was as if you were having some sort of asthma attack. Enji looked down at you, blue eyes burning demonly down at you (you wondered if this was the same look those who survived to see him on the battlefield claimed he had), his lips curled into an unapproving snarl while his hands pushed at the bottom of your knees. You pressed further into the tatami, the angle of penetration only furthering with your desperate screams to be gentler. “Shut the hell up, you’re annoying me with all this fucking screaming. Don’t waste my time.”

You whimper loudly, the feeling of his forcibly moving hips not becoming any easier on you, no longer a wave of intensive horrifying pain, but still a throbbing pain than had your fingernails cutting into his skin. “You have to be gentler! Be gentler, please be gentler! You’re so much bigger than me!!! My pussy can’t… my pussy can’t handle this!”

The fabric of the kimono under your body seared with heat when Enji shoved you further onto the mat, your legs twitching almost pathetically around his waist while your sight nearly blackened with his next action. He slammed your knees into the mat, increasing the angle of his penetration by a tenfold, sending you into another round of howling pain and pleasure as his cock slammed into your cervix -- bruising and scalding your puffy, sensitive walls with every powerful thrust. With his drilling hips and snarling speed, your screams and shouts of pain and pleasure and fear were cut off by an enormous fist around your neck, and his voice echoed from above you.

“Didn’t your dad teach you fucking whore to be quiet, seven?” Enji hisses, his thick hand clenching around your neck. Oxygen refused to flow to your lung, you went light-headed and limp, choking noises emitting from you while he continued to slam his cock in you, your clenching and splitting walls unable to keep up with the speed of the esteemed nobleman of Japan. “You’re my breeding whore, do you understand? You have no value to me except to be breed, to be full of my cum, to carry my child. You are nothing more than an object. Do. You. understand?”

Your head throbbed, the blood forcibly kept in your head, and the lack of oxygen made your world spin. 

“Y-Yes!” you choke on your tongue.

“Repeat it!”

“I’m your breeding whore! Fill me with your cum, I wanna… fuck, I w-wanna carry your children! I’m your object, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours!”

“There we go,” Enji sighs contently, his broad chest pressing your thighs further into the bed, cutting off what limited oxygen you had left, and increasing the jabbing pleasure within you by a tenfold.

“Shit, such a filthy fucking cunt you have,” he groans, your walls spasming against him with his wild, obscene thrusts. He moves his hands further up your legs so that they press against your knees, your legs then wrap around his body, shaking as he makes no effort to slow in his advances, your finger drawing blood from where they raked down his back because he was burning an outline of your body into the mat. Your strangled scream goes unnoticed by Enji, a desperate plea for him to be softer.

But he wasn’t someone who cared.

You were only here to be bred, to give him a son, the strongest son the entire country of Japan -- nay, the world -- has ever seen.

Pathetically, your hips attempt to rise up to meet him, a prayer that it would ease this brutal force he was using. It was too much -- his cock easily overpowering your throbbing cunt.

The sounds of his cock slamming into your sopping pussy created loud wet noises that made you cry in embarrassment. Your face felt like it was seconds from popping out, Enji’s weight crushing you on top of the abhorrent position he was fucking you in, but he found it as an excuse to speed up. His rugged grunts are warnings in your ears as his cock finally hits your cervix with consistency that makes you wail. The stretch he gave you was boggling, and you were progressively less cognitive aware as he drilled in harder. His slams were so hard that the sound of his thighs hitting your ass let out a continuous and loud slap.

His fingers gouge into your skin, and you cry his name like a hopeful prayer as he is fueled by your appraisal, your breath hot and sticky between the valley of his chest. Your tongue pressing against his skin akin to some infant looking to suck their mothers tit.

The force in which Enji slammed his hips to meet yours. Above your ear, the growling pants that mocked you for enjoying this demeaned you for thinking you were anything more than his breeding whore sent a liquid fire that could never match the heat of a conflagration to your core. When your head smashed against the mat because you could no longer keep your head up. 

“That’s fucking right,” he laughs, drool pouring past your lips with your mindless babble, your eyes fluttering closed. Pleasure drowned in pain sobs expelled from your lips, invigorating something powerful within the entire family who watches on with impatient stares at the sight of your squeezing cunt around Eniji’s cock. “Take my fucking cock, bitch, don’t fucking pass out yet, we’re far from over.”

Enji was raw power, destruction, and strength. He pistoled into your sobbing core with the intent of getting his sperm into your cunt, to get his sperm that would get him a son into you, other than that, he was uncaring, unmotivated by your pathetic whining and crying. Your thrashing and wailing do not stop Enji, nor do they lessen the pace and the force he’s settled in as the floor begins to creak with every powerful thrust.

“I needa — holy shit, r-right there! M-More, more, more, more--”

“What? Do you need to come already, seven?” Enji mocks you pushing up off you so his back is curved, and your body so small underneath him. “Do you really think I’ll let you cum before me?”

Your eyes can no longer stay open as the only noises leaving your mouth are whines and begs for more. You forcibly clench around him to stir a reaction from him, but all he does is snarl quietly as he continues his rutting force. The pounding is rhythmic. His balls bruising your ass where he hits you. The feeling of Enji’s cock entering and leaving you draws your eyes to the back of your head as you pathetically whimper his name, his thighs hitting your ass at bruising force, only adding to your pleasure. 

Each powerful snap of his hips sending your back arching to the heavens, the balls of your feet digging bruisingly into his back. In and out he goes, your cunt nothing more than a cocksleeve for him, and your wanton screams and mewls taking him further and further.

Enji all but laughs into your ear, his hand moving from pressing onto the tatami mat and pushing into your opened mouth, pressing onto your tongue. “Suck my fingers like a good whore, show me that you’re not gonna disappoint me. Suck my fingers.” you sob in the thought, not because you’re fearful of disappointing the man, but because the feeling of his fingers in your mouth makes your cunt throb ludicrously, your tongue desperately wrapping around the appendages, pushing through the space of his fingers. “I’m going to fill you up so good, breeding whore. You’ll be leaking my cum for days. I’m going to make sure you carry the Todoroki gene, and I hope that it’s my son you carry.”

The words incite clenching heat in your core, your lips unable to form anything but a weak, pitiful moan because the thought of being filled to the max with Todoroki cum makes your mind spin. More, you want to milk them all dry. You want nothing more than that. With a ragged breath, a consecutive full thrust that sends his cock slamming against your cervix, Enji cums fully within you. His load is long and heavy, your belly feeling like it’s bulging when he finally emerges from your cunt. His once hard cock limping in his hands while you lay there defeated, his and your intermixed cum spilling from your pulsing cunt. 

Your mouth opened, sobbing at his absence, a need for him to return despite your core's undeniable tremor and ache. He’s off your body as well, and oxygen floods your lungs in dizzying and shallow pants, your vision fuzzies out, and you stare almost brokenly at the window painted with the rising morning sun.

Your room was in the east wing, after all.

You didn’t even protest when he pressed a smooth wooden plug into your cunt to “ensure you were bred to succession.”

He would soon leave your room, stumbling out with a drunken hiccup, leaving you to lay on a once white kimono… a once white kimono drenched in cum, blood, sweat, and tears.

You wouldn’t know until two weeks later, but Todoroki Enji had succeeded in breeding you, and you would eventually lay in a birthing room with blood and sweat and tears soaking your skin as a silent baby boy was placed in your arms.

“And what will his name be?” the midwife asked, her eyes wide with joy for you and Enji.

“...Shouto.”

[m4r13l3y]

Always you // r.l

Tonks realized that it was always you he wanted

Warnings; sad(?), dialogue in the beginning is from the books, I just altered it a bit so it would fit with the story plot

-

-

“You see!" said a strained voice. Tonks was glaring at Lupin. Fleur had just stated to molly that she still loved bill even after he was bitten during the fight.

Tonks had never believed in love at first sight, not until she made eye contact with Remus lupin.

She still remembers the first time she met him, Tonks was the new auror who was too young to be in the first war and he was the mysterious, but sweet man who was also a werewolf.

But now all she remembers is that her hair can’t change color and that Remus lupin doesn’t love her back.

She wanted him to want her, she wanted to show him that she didn’t care if he was older or a lycanthrope. She loved him.

"She still wants to marry him, even though he's been bitten! She doesn't care!"

"It's different," said Lupin, barely moving his lips and looking suddenly tense, not meeting tonks’ gaze, seeming to look for something, someone. "Bill will not be a full werewolf. The cases are completely-"

"But I don't care either, I don't care!" said Tonks, seizing the front of Lupin's robes and shaking them. "I've told you a million times...."

And the meaning of Tonk's Patronus and her mouse-colored hair, and the reason she had come running to find Dumbledore when she had heard a rumor someone had been attacked by Greyback, all suddenly became clear to everyone; it had not been Sirius that Tonks had fallen in love with after all.

Tonks was interrupted by the sounds of loud steps coming to the infirmary, everyone raised their wands thinking it was a death eater

“Y/n” remus completely discarded tonks declaration as he ran to you, “were where you?” He held your waist tightly.

“I was caught up with some death eaters” you breathed out “had to stun a few but im here”

“Good” he closed his eyes and so did Tonks, he relished in the moment between the two of you while she didn’t want to see the pitying looks that everyone gave her.

As she faced the darkness that was her mind she realized that it was always you.

When the order first met you alongside your brothers son, Harry, that you took care of, Remus had his eye on you the whole time. She thought it’d been because he was cautious, but now she realizes that wasn’t it.

When she had tripped over an umbrella at Grimmauld place, you helped her and then you fell, Remus laughed at you and gave you a helping hand.

She wanted to be mad, she was mad, but she didn’t have a reason to be. Remus never led her on, he never gave any sort of confirmation that he too wanted her, it was always you.

The small smiles, the vermillion paints on his cheek and lingering gazes, they were all for you.

-

The wedding was beautiful, everyone was staring at her in awe. Even in the midst of war, the marriage between the two of them was what everyone needed.

Tonks remembers walking down the aisle, seeing Remus waiting at the front of the room.

Does he think I look good? She would ask herself.

What does he think of my hair? My dress! How does my dress look? What does Remus think of my dress? A hundred thoughts were running through Tonks’ head until she heard the werewolf clear his throat to say his vows.

“Every full moon I was reminded of the monster I thought I was, I never believed that I’d ever have someone like you love me. You’re so beautiful and kind and caring, and clumsy sometimes” he chuckled “I’d never want to spend my life with anyone but you. I promise to protect you and care for you until I die” remus declared, the mouse-haired girl teared up at his meaningful words.

Harry handed her a handkerchief so she could wipe her tears, she covered her eyes as she saw Remus lean in for the kiss that sealed the marriage of the two.

She was happy, but all she could think about is how she shouldn’t be here.

“And now I pronounce you, mister and misses lupin”

If there was any hope, which there wasn’t unless it was just stupid hopeful thinking, that Remus lupin would ever give her a chance, it was all demolished.

Another tear fell down her cheek when she saw you and lupin walk hand in hand down the aisle as everyone clapped for the newly wed couple, she faked a smile as the same four words ran through her head.

It was always you

-

Taglist;

@wonderfilworld @lilypad-55449 @emmaev @amarabln @side-blog-shit @pakukutta25 @cjhollida @chronicwiggler @harry-styles-1800 @rjprofessorlupin @aayaissaa @kittykylax @ethernal-onism @kyleed24 @amourtentiaa @theweasleytwinsgirl

[heartsofbeskar]

the red wolf

chapter two: a stolen gift

oberyn martell x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of death, a smooch™

words: 3.6K

excerpt: A few tears slipped down your cheeks, despite your best efforts. Oberyn gently swiped them away, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. You could feel his warm breath against your face, and it was pleasant, and smelled of the fruit filled Dornish wine he loved. His lips were tinted from it as well.

“Is there anything I can do, little wolf? I hate to see you this way,” he whispered to you, even though you were alone and shielded by so much greenery.

“Let me give you something,” your voice shook as you matched his whispered tone. “Before he can take it from me.”

a/n: the second chapter is here!! im having such a good time writing this tbh; this chapter is based on the first half of the season 4 episode the lion and the rose; im tackling it in two chapters since its a doozy

masterlist

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The fresh air gently blew across your face as it cascaded over the top of the walls of Winterfell. You leaned on the wooden railing, smiling as you watched your brothers play below. They held wooden swords, clashing them against each other clumsily. Ser Rodrik would surely chastise them for the sloppy footwork, but you enjoyed their dramatics.

Creaking of the boards alerted you to a new presence approaching. Robb smiled gently as he came to stand beside you. He wore a fur robe draped across his shoulders, and you marvelled at just how broad it made him appear. You turned to face him, smoothing the stray furs into line.

“When did you turn into a man?” You teased. He brought a hand up and lightly pinched the skin of your cheek.

“Around the same time my twin sister became a woman.”

You swatted his hand away, but laughed. His eyes held a softness as he turned them away to watch Bran and Rickon, who now wrestled amongst the haybed. You reached for his hand, squeezing it.

“Something’s troubling you.” He didn’t bother to deny it; you had studied your twin’s face from the day you had both been born, after all. “Are you not excited to see the King?”

“I am, but …” He shook his head. “I cannot say I am thrilled with the prospect of my sisters departing at once for King’s Landing. Or my twin sister marrying a man there.”

“Robb,” you sighed. “We can’t stay children forever. Someday, this—” you gestured at large to the courtyard, “—will be yours to lead, along with the entire North. I will be your ears wherever I land — King’s Landing, or otherwise.”

He nodded, but still didn’t meet your eyes again, You pulled him forward by his hand, wrapping your arms around the soft fur on his shoulders. You rested your head on the plush surface, as he wrapped his arms around you in response, both of you leaning into the familiar embrace.

“I will come to see you often, this I promise. My heart will always be with you, in the North.”

—

Your hand was sweating as you laid it on the ornate handle of the large door of Lord Tywin’s office. It was silent inside and you prayed to the Old Gods he was out, having forgotten your appointment entirely. But he had requested it of you specifically via a handwritten parchment, so you knew that you would not be so lucky.

With a large breath in, you pushed the handle down. The door seemed to scream at you as it swung open; stay out, don’t come in here, run for your life from this wretched place all together.

As you suspected, Tywin was inside, head hung low over a parchment he was rapidly writing on, spread over his desk. He didn’t look up as you entered, though he must have heard you.

You slowly closed the door behind you, fighting the urge to flinch as it slammed back into place.

“Come here, girl.” Still, Tywin didn’t look up as he called out to you. Your hand clenched at your side at the name, but you quickly forced it to relax, taking short steps towards his desk. When you reached it, you stood in front of it awkwardly, waiting.

With a large flourish of the quill, he finally set down the writing implement, casting his eyes up towards you. He leaned back in his chair, assessing you. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Lady Stark,” he mused. “With the untimely death of all three of your brothers…you are now the true heir to Winterfell and the North.”

You swallowed thickly, pushing the unbidden images of Bran and Rickon from your mind, their young, innocent faces threatening to fester there. “My lord, I was of the understanding that the Boltons had been granted control of Winterfell and the North.” In exchange for the betrayal and murder of my twin brother, his unborn child, and my mother. You let the ending hang in the air between you.

Tywin tapped the side of his face, his eyes calculating. “Yes, it is true as Hand of the King, I have named Roose Bolton as Warden of the North. But we both know who the people of the North will rally to, if they are called. And that will always be a Stark, as long as one lives.”

You clasped your hands in front you, pushing them into the fabric of your dress, trying to dampen the sweat that collected on them. “My lord … I apologize, but I’m afraid I do not understand.”

He rose now, smoothing down the front of his tunic. Stepping around the desk, he approached you. Slowly, he took your chin in his hand, turning your head to varying angles.

“You are a virgin, yes?”

A chill ran its way up your spine. You nodded.

“Good.” He released your face, turning his back to you as he faced the windows overlooking the city, hands clasped behind his back. “Were you my daughter, I would’ve had you married long ago, but I suppose Ned Stark’s inadequacies are my opportunities. You will be wed to my eldest son, Jaime, once I convince him to quit this Kingsguard business. You will bear him sons, and they will be the heirs to both Winterfell and Casterly Rock.”

Your hands shook in front of you and you clasped them tighter together. When you didn’t say anything in response, Tywin turned his head to look back at you.

“You would do well to interact with him during these upcoming festivities for the King’s wedding. Now go.”

As if you’d be sprung free from a trap, you hurried to the door, eager to be free of this room, which felt like it had hardly enough air in it to breathe. You grasped the handle again when Tywin spoke one last time.

“And girl—” You froze, gripping the handle, breath caught in your throat, and the sudden anxiety gripped you that he would tell you to stay away from Oberyn Martell. But all he said was, “—shut the door behind you.”

—

You didn’t think you could stay away from Oberyn, even if Tywin had asked. It had quickly become a routine, him waiting across the path from the building which held your chambers. You clung ferociously onto the small shred of something predictable in the sea of chaos that this city had washed upon you.

As you tied your bodice behind you hastily, you craned your neck to look over at Sansa, where she was still nestled in the blankets behind you. Her side rose and fell softly in the rhythm of sleep. Padding over, you knelt down, pressing a light kiss against the crown of her head. She rustled momentarily among the sheets, but didn’t wake.

Oberyn was standing in the usual area, arm extended overhead to pry some fruit off a nearby tree. With a small grunt, he freed one that was round and reddish in colour — you were still so unfamiliar with the fruits that grew this far south.

Flashing you his enticing smile, he extended it out to you. You took it with gratitude, allowing him to loop your opposite arm through his. He was warm, the warmth of his skin radiating out as if he’d trapped the air of Dorne within his very body and brought it with him to King’s Landing.

He paraded you superficially through the garden paths lined with Lannister and Baratheon guards, their eyes smoothly looking over the pair of you, some giving small nods in greeting, used to the timely walks you took.

You took a turn down a hedge lined path, the green walls rising high above your heads, and the guard stationed near the next turn leaning back, his view obscured. Oberyn placed his hand gently at your back, pulling the branches back around the gap in the hedge you had found some days prior. You both slipped underneath.

The other side contained an obviously neglected portion of the gardens, some weeds overgrown and flowing out of their beds. Wildflowers had begun to bloom as well, their colours mismatched and vibrant, contrasting to those in the rest of the gardens that were tended to regularly. You much preferred these ones.

You sat on the nearby bench, tucking your skirts in around your legs, allowing the weight of the pretense of happiness to slip off, your shoulders relaxing. Oberyn sat beside you, his knee touching yours, heat radiating from the spot. You turned the still uneaten fruit over in your hands.

“You look far away today, little wolf,” he murmured. “Is it the King’s wedding?” He lightly brushed a lock of hair over your shoulder, fingers remaining to play with it.

“No,” you sighed. “Well, yes and no, I—” You paused, meeting his dark eyes. He stared back into you, waiting patiently. You wanted to lose yourself in his eyes, to dive in so deeply you could not see anything beyond them. “I spoke with Tywin Lannister.”

Something flashed in those eyes, briefly, but unmistakably. Still, he didn’t push you for any detail. He brought his hand down from your hair, settling it on your shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth. It sat on the edge of your gown, and occasionally his skin came into contact with the skin near your neck. You suppressed a shudder at the feeling.

You finally broke eye contact with Oberyn, unable to look at him for the next words. “He intends for me to wed Jaime Lannister. As soon as he can convince him to leave the Kingsguard. Perhaps he will even overturn their oaths, so that Jaime can marry regardless …” You trailed off, shaking your head.

“What would you want? If you had the choice?” His eyes were warm when you looked back up, his brow furrowed. His free hand clenched where it sat in his lap.

“I don’t know, honestly, I … I thought I would be able to make these choices with my Father, but now—” You bit down on your lip harshly as a sob threatened to work its way up and out of your throat. Oberyn’s hands quickly came to cup your face, holding it steadily as you took deep breaths. “The Lannisters … have taken my home, my family. I don’t want to give them my future as well … there are so many things I don’t want Jaime Lannister to have.”

A few tears slipped down your cheeks, despite your best efforts. Oberyn gently swiped them away, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. You could feel his warm breath against your face, and it was pleasant, and smelled of the fruit filled Dornish wine he loved. His lips were tinted from it as well.

“Is there anything I can do, little wolf? I hate to see you this way,” he whispered to you, even though you were alone and shielded by so much greenery.

“Let me give you something,” your voice shook as you matched his whispered tone. “Before he can take it from me.” When your hands slid up to the back of his neck, you knew the implication was clear.

He swallowed thickly. “I do not want to take advantage of you when you are upset, little wolf.”

“Please.”

It was both a second and an eternity before he brought his lips to yours. Your heart pounded in your chest as his hands tightened on your face, guiding your head as your lips slid against one another.

After the first few presses, he stopped, though he didn’t pull back, your breath intermingling in the miniscule space between you. Your eyes were screwed shut, but you raked your hands up, into his hair. He gave a breathless laugh before crashing back into you, lips pressing insistently now, the taste of his sweet wine permeating into your mouth.

Firmly but gently, his lips pried yours open, hot breath pouring into your mouth, filling your lungs. You felt yourself begin to shake with the intimacy of it. It felt as if he were providing you a new sense of life itself, with every touch, every breath, every sound he made. You had no idea how long it had been.

He swiped his tongue, wet and hot, over your lower lip, before taking it between his teeth, pulling it with him as he finally retreated from you.

With a heavy sigh, he reached an arm around your waist, resting his cheek against yours, and you lamented that you couldn’t see his eyes. You couldn’t even imagine the storms within them now.

You breathed heavily against his cheek, winded as though you’d been practicing your riding. You pressed him tighter against you, turning to plant a kiss onto the edge of his beard. His free hand twisted up into your hair.

“Thank you.”

—

Your hands drifted through the copper strands of Sansa’s hair, twisting the locks delicately around each other, as your mother had taught you. You smiled as you recalled how Sansa used to sit for hours, just letting you practice braiding in her hair, happy to receive attention and affections.

By the Gods, she had changed.

You pushed the thought aside as your hands left her, and you leaned over to peck her cheek, which had been dusted with rouge. “You look beautiful.”

Sansa wouldn’t meet your eyes in the mirror, staring at her own hands curled in her lap. You laid your hands on her shoulders, squeezing lightly.

“Sansa … this is a day to celebrate. Because you are not the one marrying him.” She looked up to meet your gaze, her eyes brimming with conflicted emotions.

“But they made me marry his uncle. A man decades my senior, an imp, I …” She shook her head. “He hasn’t hurt me, but that doesn’t mean he won’t. Joffrey had to have gotten his sense of cruelty from somewhere.”

Your hands tightened where they held her. “I will never let him touch you. Or anyone, Sansa. I mean that.”

She stood, shaking off your grip. She was taller than you now, all long lines and elegant neck and the deep, irreconcilable sadness of her eyes.

You wondered if she saw that in yours, too.

“And what if you’re not there?”

You wanted to tell her that you always would be, that no force of man or the Gods could take you from her. But the words caught in your throat. The words your mother and father had told you, as well. Words that had proven not to be true, in the end.

A knock on the door from Shae saved you from the moment. She escorted you out into the bright southern morning. Everyone you passed seemed to have an extra bounce in their step, an extra swing to their arms, extra wide smiles on their faces. Apparently it didn’t matter how awful the King was, if there was still a wedding to throw.

You had to admit the attitude was infectious. And a well needed relief, after the months you had spent waking in terror, your dreams filled with your sister being married to King Joffrey, irreversibly tied to him by the laws of Gods and men.

The King’s breakfast was being held in the gardens, in full bloom now and having been prepared for weeks for this event. A long table sat as the clear focal piece of the area; Tywin, Cersei, and Cersei’s young son Tommen sat there already. Cersei and her father were discussing something in a low voice, despite the loud levels of ambient noise.

A chill shot down your spine as Tywin’s sharp eyes fell upon you, and you looked away quickly.

“This way, my lady,” Shae urged Sansa towards the direction of the King’s table, and you gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as she left your side.

It was clear the breakfast would not be starting until the King arrived, so you wandered the elaborately decorated area.

Everything seemed to drip in gold, the sheer grandeur of it all overwhelming to your eyes. Tables were laden with every type of fruit and cheese you’d seen since arriving in King’s Landing, and some you hadn’t seen. You spotted one of the red, sweet fruits that Oberyn had picked for you the other day.

“Lady Stark.” Jaime Lannister approached where you stood, hands awkwardly clasping behind his back. You’d heard the rumours from the maids that he’d returned from captivity with one less hand. You hoped Robb had been the one to take it.

“My lord,” you greeted, giving a shallow curtsy. You weren’t exactly sure what the appropriate address was for a man who was not your betrothed but likely would be once he bent to his father’s will.

“Are you enjoying the … uh …” He swallowed. He gestured with one hand — a flesh one — to the surroundings. “... festivities?”

You nodded. “Yes, it’s all very beautiful. You must be very happy to be here to see the King marry.” You knew the words came out somewhat clipped, tense, but you could do little to smooth them.

“I— well yes, it’s been…” He trailed off, clearing his throat. His eyes shifted around the area, seeming like they didn’t want to settle on you where you stood. “I … I know this is no consolation, but I admired your mother. She was a strong woman. A strong mother.”

Swallowing thickly, you cast your eyes down to the table, hand clenching at your side, eyes burning suddenly with the weight of his words.

He started to flounder, obviously putting together that this was not the right thing to say, but before he could sputter himself into a frenzy, a warm hand slid over the small of your back.

“Lady Stark, I was in search of your company.” Oberyn was there, his hand a steady weight against you, reassuring. “If you will excuse me, Ser Jaime.” He flashed a dashing smile at Jaime, who nodded eagerly for relief.

“Thank you,” you sighed, as he led you away from the buffet table. He stopped you once you’d reached a round dining table, which you assumed he’d been seated at. Turning you slightly, he placed a hand to your cheek, looking at you intently. Heat rose to your face as you wondered who was watching.

“Was he bothering you?” he asked, his voice impossibly low.

You shook your head, eyes unable to tear away from his. “No, no, he was just … no.”

For a moment you both stood there, unable to move, until a serving aide passed close by, snapping the tension like a matchstick. Oberyn’s hand left you, pulling out a chair for you. He sat beside you, posture relaxed as he poured goblets of wine, the sweet aroma wafting from the cups. He placed one in front of you, noticing your brief hesitation.

“Do you drink wine?” He smirked, watching as you held it beneath your nose.

“I have tried it, but …” You eyed the contents. It was dark in colour, so rich you couldn’t see through the liquid to the bottom of the cup. “At feasts in Winterfell. I always thought it tasted vile.”

He laughed at that, his head thrown back, and you admired the column of his neck, the golden skin, the muscles you could see move beneath the skin, the smattering of stubble that came down from his beard. You wanted to run your lips up it.

“Try it,” he insisted, bringing his own goblet to his lips. “They do not know how to make wine in the North. A Dornish wine will change your life.”

You smiled at him over your cup, raising it to taste the drink. Sweetness bloomed on your tongue, filling your mouth with tastes of fruits you’d had and fruits you never could have imagined. Heat seemed to follow its trail down your throat.

“Do you like it?” He smiled at you. His hand casually reached up, trailing up and down your arm.

“Oberyn …” You eyed his hand wearily. You couldn’t bring yourself to push it away, but you knew it was too bold of him to touch you so knowingly in the open. At the King’s wedding breakfast, no less.

He was interrupted in whatever he was going to say by the arrival of the King, who settled at the head table, where Tyrion had joined Sansa. A line of lords, ladies, and nobles brought forth gifts of all kinds. Oberyn rested his arm on the back of your chair. A goblet from Mace Tyrell, graciously accepted. A book from Tyrion, which Joffrey scoffed at.

You could feel the tension roll off of Oberyn in waves as the Mountain approached the table. You placed a hand on his thigh underneath the table, where no one could see, squeezing there. He carried a sword, which he placed on the head table. Tywin stood.

“One of only two Valyrian steel swords in the capital, your Grace, freshly forged in your honour.”

Valyrian steel. Freshly forged.

The words were ringing in your head as Joffrey excitedly unsheathed the sword, swinging it wildly.

“Such a great sword should have a name. What should I call her?”

Calls came out from the crowd around you.

“Stormbringer!”

“Terminus!”

“Widow’s Wail!”

“Wolfsbane!”

Your breathing was heavy.

Joffrey smirked. “Widow’s Wail. I like that. Every time I use it, it’ll be cutting off Ned Stark’s head all over again.”

You shut your eyes, hand unintentionally grasping tighter onto Oberyn’s leg. He gently pried your fingers off, and you turned to apologize, but he just flipped your hand over, intertwining your fingers, hidden under the table covering.

And as you looked at him, you thought you could see that same irreconcilable sadness in his eyes, too.

—

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[1plus1kiyoomi]

Chapter 19: ILYSB

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PLAY THIS FOR EXTRA FEELS

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You drive to the farm and see Kita’s truck already parked. Getting out of the car, you see Kita smile at you. Quickly, you run to him then give him a hug. The only light source you have is that one beanpole, the stars and the moon, but Kita is shining as always. “Alisa is going to kill me for meeting you here.”

“Atsumu warned me so many times not to see you, too,” Kita chuckles, embracing you tightly. “It felt so wrong not seeing you for a day.”

“Save that for later,” you warn him, putting a finger over his lips. Kita wants to tell you so many things but you’re right, he should save it for your wedding vows. “I know we’re already married but actually having the wedding feels like I’m getting married again.”

“I’ll marry you everyday if you want,” Kita tells you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Can we practice our first dance? I’m nervous.”

You put your hands together and you lead the dance, guiding him all throughout. “It feels weird without the music,” you comment and Kita just hums.

“Mad cool in all my clothes, mad warm when you get close to me...” He starts so you stop dancing in surprise. He pulls your hand just like in the choreography you both have learned, and this time he’s the one who leads. You are too mesmerized by his voice that it’s all you can think about.

“Slow dance these summer nights. Our disco ball’s my kitchen light,” he continues to sing, and you just smile at him. Even his voice is perfect. What can he not do? You can’t believe that you are serenaded by the one and only Kita Shinsuke.

Seeing the smile on your face, Kita forgets the dance and cups your cheek, allowing your bodies to sway freely. “And you need to know, that nobody can take your place. And you need to know that I’m hella obsessed with your face... your face.” He kisses your nose so you giggle.

Kita places his forehead over yours, hands still on your cheeks, eyes closed with a contented smile on your lips. “Oh my heart hurts so good. I love you, babe, so bad, so bad.”

“I love you, too, so, so, so bad,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his waist. Kita’s eyelids flutter open and he stares you lovingly before pulling you in for a kiss.

“See you later, my bride.”

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Kita is finally wearing the 3-piece grey suit with the help of his groomsmen, aka the Inarizaki Volleyball Team. “I’m nervous,” he tells them with his usual face.

Kita has never felt nervous, but right now, he’s excitedly anxious for unknown reasons. You both love each other and he knows that nothing can go wrong at your wedding, because he made sure of that. He double checked everything even before today, so why is he nervous?

Aran groans, “at least show your nervousness! You still look like you don’t care!” Kita raises his trembling hands and his friends start laughing.

“Did you not practice enough?” Omimi asks.

“I have been practicing my vows since we got back together but I’m still nervous,” Kita admits and everyone else smiles because of his honesty.

Osamu, then, hands Kita a shot of alcohol, confusing the groom so much. “Take a shot for confidence.” Kita’s eyes waver in uncertainty, but takes the shot anyways. He won’t get drunk from one single shot, and he’s willing to do anything that will get rid of the new feeling he has never felt before.

“I think I’m nervous about the dance we’re going to do,” Kita explains.

“Now that you’ve mentioned it, I’m nervous, too,” Aran speaks, staring blankly at the wall. “Whose idea is the surprise dance anyways?”

“It’s Atsumu’s of course,” Suna answers, rolling his eyes.

“It’s all over Youtube! (Y/N) would be so happy if we do it!” Atsumu says with confidence. Kita suddenly lets out a loud shout, silencing the room.

“I’m not angry. I’m just letting out my anxiety,” Kita explains, and the team just sighs in relief.

They hear scratches from the suite’s door so Gin opens opens to see what it is. Rice walks in the room, carrying a paper bag in his mouth. He is wearing a dog suit that is similiar with Kita’s, causing the boys in the room to awe and coo at him.

“Hi, boy! What’s that?” Kita asks the small dog, taking the small paper bag from his mouth. Rice sits in front of him and wags his tail, waiting for Kita to open the box. “Oh, it’s a gift from your mom.”

“Is this how he usually talks with Rice?” Suna asks Osamu, completely new to the scenario in front of him. He has only imagined Kita baby talking with his pet in high school, and this is way better than his imagination allowed.

“Yes. He treats him like his child,” Osamu answers while they stare at the father-son (dog) duo.

Kita pets Rice’s head before opening the bag. He takes out the box that is in it and slowly opens it, painfully making everyone else in the room wait in anticipation. It’s a luxurious watch. He hates it when you give him expensive gifts, but today he’ll let it pass since it’s your wedding. He reads the message on card and snort unknowingly.

When im eighty, I'll look back on three big things in my life: getting married, having kids and the first time I laid eyes on you.

Kita takes a small gift bag from his bag and let’s Rice bite on the string as well. “Give this to your mom.” He orders Rice and the dog leaves the room to go back to yours.

At the bridal suite, only you and your Nekoma friends are in there. Alisa is doing your makeup while the boys are just chilling and talking at the couch. They’re giving unnecessary comments here and there about your wedding ceremony and reception. Like how you will trip while walking down the aisle, or how you will cry so hard during the wedding vow that you Kita won’t be able to understand. Your friends are crazy, but they’re the ones who stuck with you through thick and thin.

“Rice is back,” Lev mentions as he opens the door for the dog. Your pet sits next to your chair, looking up to you to present the gift in his mouth. You pat his head and take the bag from him. He then jumps on your lap to nap.

You open the bag excitedly and see a necklace designed like a leaf branch made of diamonds and white diamond. You stop yourself from crying, not wanting Alisa to start your makeup all over agin. You put it on and check yourself at the mirror. Then, you realize that there is also a small card that came along with the necklace.

You are my favorite plant. I will water you everyday with my love. I will make sure that you have enough sunlight through making you happy. I will take care of you until we’re old and withered.

Kuroo’s wife enters the suite, causing Kuroo to keep quiet. You eye your friend teasingingly so he rolls his eyes at you. His wife is your wedding planner and organization so she has come in the room to check up on you. She doesn’t even spare a glance at Kuroo.

“It’s time to put on your wedding dress,” she tells you as she carries out your dress from the wardrobe. It’s a simple dress, something you never thought you’d wear in your wedding.

Ever since you were little, your idea of your wedding was for it to be glamorous and extravagant since it’s the only kind of wedding you have been attending since you were little. You had always imagined wearing a big ball gown dress with all the Swarovski crystals in can hold. It is the opposite of your wedding that is about to take place.

You only have around 75 guests, consisting of your closest friends and family. The wedding will take place in a small garden so you can be surrounded with plants that Kita loves so much. Your dress? It’s a an a-line dress with a square neckline and low back. It’s made charmeuse fabric and that alone. No lace, no crystals, no anything. It’s a plain simple dress that you know Kita will love.

Everyone else would say that a woman’s wedding is her wedding day, but that’s not Kuroo’s wife, your wedding planner, told you. She said, and you will never forget.

“A wedding is not a woman’s or a man’s happiest day, it’s supposed to be a day where married couples look back on and then remember why they said, ‘I do.’ It’s a special day they share as a couple and not as individuals.”

So you throw all your imaginations and fantasies out of the window and thought of Kita, and him alone, while designing your dress. It’s both yours and Kita’s day. But you’re willing to take an extra mile to make him happy, to make him say, “I do” with all his heart.

You are in the bathroom suite with Kuroo’s wife since Alisa is too anxious to dress you up. The guys obviously can’t help you. You take your robe off and Kuroo’s wife helps you slip on to the dress, but she stops midway when she sees your slightly protruding stomach. She looks at you in shock and you just put a finger over your lips.

“It’s a surprise,” you tell her and she nods.

“Congratulations,” she says to you, and you grin widely.

Yes, you’re pregnant. After trying for a very long time, you’re finally carrying another Kita. In fact, you have been pregnant for two months but just found out a week ago. You wanted to tell Kita immediately but you thought that it’d be best to tell him during your wedding vow for that extra tear jerking scene.

Certainly, Kita will never forget your wedding day.

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“We come now to the words Shinsuke and (Y/N) want to hear the most today. Before you say your vows to one another, I want to hear you confirm that it is indeed your intention to be married today,” your officiant starts so you and Kita face each other.

“Kita Shinsuke, do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to (L/N) (F/N) in marriage?”

“I do.”

“(L/N) (F/N), do you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to Kita Shinsuke in marriage?

“I do.”

“Shinsuke and (Y/N), having heard that it is your intention to be married to each other, I now ask you to declare your marriage vows.”

Kita takes your hand in his and looks you straight in your eyes and you can see all the emotions from his orbs that his face isn’t revealing. He looks so calm yet his eyes are screaming that he’s excited and nervous at the same time.

“I see these vows not as promises but as privileges. I get to make you smile, hear you laugh. I can take care of you and share my everything with you. I get to wake up next to you every morning and sleep next to you every night. I get to witness at your every milestone and the breakdowns before that. I won’t promise that I will cherish you or honor you, because even without those promises, I will do it. Because being married to you is not a responsibility or a task; it’s a gift, a present. You don’t know how lucky I am to be able to call you my wife,” Kita starts and the guests are already sobbing and crying.

Atsumu is leaning on his twin brother’s shoulder, while the other twin is patting his back. Aran is crying as well, his handkerchief already wet from too much tears. But you don’t hear anything or anything except for the man who’s standing in front of you right now.

Kita takes a deep breath in before he continues, “I love you with my whole heart with a passion that can't be expressed in words, only in soft kisses, tight hugs, late night trips, stolen glances, and years of being by your side. You always tell me that I’m the best man in existence, but believe me when I say this, I am a better man because of you.”

You’re already crying at this point, his word piercing right through your heart, but you don’t feel the pain. It’s a feeling of mixed happiness and contentment that Kita has been giving you since the day you met him. But now it’s your turn to say your vows so you have to stop yourself from crying.

“Shinsuke...” you start and then cry again. You hear your friends’ laughters and giggles, so you chuckle in embarrassment. Kita gives your hand a slight squeeze so you take a deep breath in before attempting to say your vows again.

“When I first saw you, I knew I had to have you. A lot of people said that we’re not going to work out or that you’ll never like me back, but here we are now,” you laugh cockily, causing the guests to laugh as well. “Before I say anything that will make you cry, I just want to clarify that when I said, ‘I do,’ I didn’t mean the dishes. I promise with all my heart that I will continue to make our friends jealous of our astonishing relationship.”

“We get it! We’ll be single forever!” Yaku shouts so it’s laughter once again.

Kita is smiling at you lovingly even if you’re joking during your wedding vows. You clear your throat before starting to speak again, “You have made me the happiest woman in the world today by agreeing to share your life with me. I promise to respect you and honor you. I pledge to be your honest, faithful, and loving wife for the rest of my days. Shinsuke, you are my every dream come true, and I can't wait for the reality we get to build together.”

You want to say it. You want to tell him that you’re pregnant. The words are already at the tip of your tongue but it doesn’t seem to want to slip out. The officiant starts to speak again but you don’t hear him. Your thoughts are clouded with regrets on why you didn’t tell your husband about your pregnancy.

“Your wedding ring are the outward and visible sign of the inward and invisible bond which already unites you two hearts in love,” the officiant says and Rice comes running to the two of you with the wedding rings placed in a small bag.

Rice is your best man. He’s been there since day 1 of your relationship and have been your mediator ever since. He’s a dog that represents your love and he deserves to have that special spot on your wedding day.

Kita slips in your wedding ring as he says, “I give you this ring. Wear it with love and joy. As this ring has no end, my love is also forever.”

You take his hand this time and repeat his words. “I give you this ring. Wear it with love and joy. As this ring has no end, my love is also forever.”

“It is my honor and delight to declare you husband and wife. You may seal this declaration with a kiss,” the officiant declares so Kita takes your veil off to clearly reveal your face.

Your lips meet his. The kiss speaks a lot for the two of you since your lips are both sealed by each other’s. You can feel his promises from his lips and he can taste your sincerity from yours. It’s a kiss you’ll never forget.

The reception after the ceremony was a simple and short one yet also fun and memorable. The former Inarizaki Volleyball Team surprised you with a dance, a sexy one at that, and you blush just thinking about how hot your husband looked while dancing.

At the part where you had to throw the bouquet to the crowd, Kuroo’s wife caught it, so you and your friends were a laughing mess when that happened. Kuroo was so red even if he wasn’t the one who caught the bouquet.

It was perfect. Your wedding day was perfect. Everything went as planned except for your plan of telling him that you’re pregnant.

After the wedding reception, you head to your suite to finally rest and spend alone time with each other. Kita’s hands have never left your body ever since he got to hold it. His mouth would whisper sweet nothings in your ear. His eyes gazed at you every chance he got.

“I really love that dress on you,” Kita tells you as you are about to take off your wedding dress in front of the full body mirror in the room. He wraps his arms around you, his chin on your shoulder, his lips dangerously close to your neck.

“And I love that your hair is pushed back,” you reply, letting your hands fall on his forearms.

“Should I wear my hair like this everyday?” Kita asks and you shake your head immediately. “Why not?”

“I would die from too much handsomeness and hotness,” you answer without hesitance so he chuckles. “For real. You look amazing today. My heart may or may not have skipped a beat or two when you danced.”

“I could show you again,” he whispers into your ear seductively causing chills to run down your spine. “A special show only for you.”

“Baby,” you call him, changing the topic. He humms in response, his lips already attached to the skin of your exposed shoulder. “I have to tell you something important.”

“What is it?” He turns you around, then hugs you again. Tears start to roll down your cheeks so he gets worried. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Not all,” you tell him reassuringly but he doesn’t believe your words since you’re crying like a baby in front of him.

“Then why are you crying?” He wipes the tears on your cheeks with his thumb, worry visible in your eyes. It should be a happy day, why are you crying?

“I’m just glad that we finally had our married and that we will have an addition to our family,” you say subtly, hugging him tightly. Kita is frozen in his spot, did he understand your words right? Do you mean what he thinks you mean?

“What did you say?” He makes you repeat. You cup his cheeks and grin at him. You can see his tears at the brim of his eyes, and just one confirmation for you, the two of you will be crying in thankfulness and happiness the whole night.

“I’m pregnant.”

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[theesteemedladydebourgh]

three times i have typed a LONGGG review for tftdc and three times my phone has crashed. so for this chapter i pulled out my labtop bc it is Necessary (TM)!!! i freaking loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee tftdc. it is absolutely my favvvvvvvv fic rn!!! my fav lines of this chapter include: "It gives her something to fiddle with when her anxiety gets bad, and she finds that running her finger over the smooth band, the ridge of the gem, makes her heartbeat calm down." (She still finds comfort in him!!) (1/?)

(2/?) "“She’s not an asset.” His voice is a low growl." (He's so protective omg) "Sirius looks like someone has given him a handful of dung and James thinks with a burst of hysterical amusement that at least they’re all miserable." (he's hilarious) "“Hi—“ her voice cuts off into a strangled noise that she’d be embarrassed about if she had the wherewithal to realize. Because it’s the first time she’s ever seen James in proper Auror robes. Proper. Dark navy and close-fitting, embroidered with a

(3/?) tiny gold Ministry emblem on the chest." (her reaction!!) "Caradoc sidles up to him and Sirius, subtly watching the two of them square off. He mutters, “So this is going to be the new normal, huh? Who’re you putting your money on?”" (LVOE THIS) "Caradoc pushes off the wall with a shrug. “Alright, then,” he says. “We’ll see if she leaves you for me by the end!” He chuckles, clapping James on the shoulder, then wanders over to Lily." (HAHAHA) "“Fair enough,” Sirius says, then something

(4/?) lights up in his face. “Meadowes—fuck, I haven’t seen her in years. I’d want to see what she’s been up to. Is she still fit?” (classic!) "Neil has taken to bringing her things she does and doesn’t need throughout the day—coffee, chatter, and today, a letter." (lol neil trying so hard) "“That you wear that green dress you bought in seventh year and never wore.”" (OH MY GOD THIS WHOLE SCENE WAS TOO MUCH FOR ME) "Then she throws her drink directly on James." (DORCAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3 you!)

(5/?) "Dorcas squeezes her arm. “I think you defended him against me tonight,” she says. “And you’re even more miserable not living with him than you were when you hated him in January.”" (awwwwwwww) and then the whole!! last!! scene!!! "“You’re still wearing your wedding ring,” he says unexpectedly and his eyes don’t leave hers. His jaw is tight. “You…didn’t take it off.”" "“I miss you,” he confesses and then he kisses her again, a soft brush of lips. An overbearing agony in his eyes, in their

6/?) bodies pressed so tightly together. “I just—there’s nothing else I can say.”” ““No, please, finish that sentence. Finish it, and I’ll have something to wank to for the next month, Evans—“” “But for now, with his mouth against hers, she can pretend that this kiss can last forever.“ this whole scene!! I love how much James tries to give her space, I love how she goes to the psychiatrist, I LOVE the moody/lily dynamic, I LOVE how James doesn't like Neil spending time with Lily, I LOVE how

(7/7) focused James is on the fact that she's still wearing the rings. I’ll have you know that I read this chapter while im at work bc I literally couldn’t wait!!! And then I went through your tumblr and found all those spoilers!!!!!!!! I literally cannot wait to see how this story goes, I absolutely love it!! Thank you!!

If it was possible to heart an entire ask, i'd be doing it x10000000. you sweetheart, thank you for sending this to me! And I’m so sorry about your internet woes, that’s happened to me before 😬 makes it all the more impressive that you persisted! ❤️❤️🥰

[sailorshadzter]

Prompt: Joffrey reveals himself to be a monster to her towards the start of the stay at Winterfell .Knowing that her parents cant reject the match between herself and the Crown Prince without repercussions,she stages a kidnapping and slips herself into the group heading to the Wall. Maybe she cuts off her hair/dyes her hair/steals some of Brans clothes.Kinda like a Mulan AU I guess?

OOOOOH WOW

this is one of those asks that i have to scroll for a minute to get to!!! but i got to it!!! IM SORRY ITS TAKEN ME SO VERY LONG but inspiration strikes when it strikes. anyways, i might come out with a part 2 / dont tempt me to make this into another au i never finish but man the idea is GOOD.

anyways

i hope it was worth the wait.

As the night begins to dawn, Sansa Stark finds it hard to keep both feet on the ground.

She's lovestruck, falling hard for the golden haired Baratheon prince that's been put before her. With his charming good looks and regal posture, he's enough to make any maiden's heart flutter. In truth, even now with Joffrey and his parents, the King and Queen of the Iron Throne there in her own home, she's finding it hard to believe that she, she, of all people, will be the one to marry the prince. That someday she might be a queen as beautiful as his mother, Cersei Lannister, who smiles so sweetly whenever they meet, who speaks so tenderly, who upon after the betrothal was made official, calls her daughter, as if she so truly were.

"Come my lady, let us take one last walk." It's Joffrey now, bending over his arm in a bow as he approaches where she sits among the other young ladies of Winterfell. They erupt in giggles around her as she blushes to the roots of her hair but nods all the same, reaching out her hand to take his, allowing him to help her up onto her feet. Though she glances towards her mother, who sits engaged in conversation with her father and the King himself, Joffrey tugs on her hand and she can do nothing else besides follow after him. She knows it's inappropriate for her and the prince to sneak off alone like this, but she can't help but to excitedly wonder if he means only to steal her away for a private kiss. Besides, they are to be married in only a few short weeks, so what harm would it do?

They walk together out into the moonlit night, a surprising chill to the air that sends a shiver down her spine. If Joffrey notices, he does not speak on it, rather he continues to lead her through the courtyard where only a handful of guards and nobility mingle. It was astonishing just how many people came along with the King and his family and Sansa isn't certain there would ever be a way to remember all of their names. Along the back, they step into the gardens, the darkening sky pierced by the soft white light of the moon. "I will miss the moonlight of the North," she says as they fall to a stop before the brimming fountain, her lips curving with a smile. "But I suppose I will love it all the more whenever we return."

At her words, Joffrey turns, his expression not one she's seen before. It's not confusion, but rather, it looks like anger. No, it is something far beyond anger, and it frightens her down to her very core. Startled, Sansa begins to stammer an apology, but Joffrey silences her with a wave of his hand. "Return?" He scoffs, looking from her back towards Winterfell and back again. "We'll not be returning here once we leave," he goes on, shaking his head with a scathing sort of laugh that is far more chilling than the wind had been.

"Y-your pardon, I only meant... When we visit..."

"Did you not hear me, my lady... Once we leave here in two days, we shall not be returning. Not you and certainly not me. You will be my queen and you will stay South, where you belong." A strange feeling is creeping up within her; it's cold, it's deep, and it's so very dark. There is something about the way Joffrey says this that she knows it to be true. She realizes then, quite suddenly, that if she leaves with him as intended, she will never again return to Winterfell. She swallows. This isn't right, she thinks, he musn't mean it.

"I know the North is not entirely to your pleasure, but it is my home... I can't imagine never returning," she smiles, hoping her easy going tone is not lost to the shaking of her voice. "You may even grow to enjoy it here, if you give it a chance..." To her horror, Joffrey's hands shoot up and for a single instance, she thinks he means to strike her, but rather he takes hold of her by the upper arms, his grip like a vice. "M-my lord, you're h-hurting me," she whimpers, staring up into Joffrey's blazing eyes.

He leans in close to her, as close as he might have done for the kiss she had once hoped he'd bestow upon her, and breathes a simple reply. "Bid your home farewell, sweetheart, for we ride south in the morning." His grip lessens and then, he lets go entirely, taking a single step back from where she stands. The morning? She thinks, these words sinking in, realizing now that though she'd been told it would be another day before leaving... Evidently, someone had decided that there was no need to stay another night and no one had chosen to tell her. She wonders if this is cruelty on Joffrey's part or kindness of her parents, hoping to spare her the pain of knowing it was her last night home. Either way, it matters not, because she knows there's no way she can go South.

Not ever.

[ x x x ]

As she lays in bed, Sansa can do little else but stare at the ceiling above her bed and wish to be someone else. If she were anybody else, she would not be marrying the prince, and she would not be leaving home. Sansa had tried to explain her feelings to her mother, who had merely laughed and said it was nervous jitters. I had them, too, before I married your father, Cat Stark had said as she brushed out her daughter's hair for bed one last time. The next time she brushed this head of hair, it would be for her wedding day. The longer she spent with her mother that evening, the more Sansa realized she could not simply back out of this wedding. Sansa was not a stupid girl, though Arya might have argued differently, and she knew of the trouble brewing between the families. Between the kingdoms. She's overheard enough whispers and listened to enough speculation between her brothers to know that war was a very real possibility- some said only the good friendship between the Baratheon king and their father was what kept them safe. Sansa also knows, even just from the words spoken during their betrothal, that her marriage with Joffrey solidified the peace between them.

And yet...

The longer she thinks about it, the more she knows that despite it all, she cannot ride South. She knows of the stories, the ones of what happens to Stark men that go to King's Landing... What was stopping something terrible from happening to her as well? There had to be a way, there just had to be a way to free her from this wedding and ultimately, the prison King's Landing was certain to be.

It's just as she's resigning herself to her misery that something comes to her.

One of the stories she had read as a young girl, a story of a princess taken in the dead of night by an evil lord. Said princess was to be rescued by her true love, a shining knight of virtue that rides in on his white horse. And more is coming- it's not just her that is to leave on the morrow- but Jon, as well. Jon, her bastard brother, was being sent to the wall to join the Knight's Watch. He certainly would not be her knight, but if she could somehow slip in among him and the others heading out... Yes, it might possibly work.

But if it's going to work, she must work fast, as she knows the men are set to leave before morning light. And so she leaps from her bed and pulls on her dressing robe. It is late into the night, hours still from the morning call, but there is always the fear of a guard or even her father discovering her out of bed at such an hour. But she says a silent prayer to the Old Gods and then tiptoes from her room.

[ x x x ]

When the morning call comes, she's already gone, a single note hastily scratched in writing she hopes looks entirely unlike her own penmanship.

She's been gone well over an hour by then, for just as she had planned, she manages to slip away among those leaving for the Knight's Watch. With an old cloak draped over her shoulders, she keeps the hood up, shielding from those around her the red hair she's so well known for. Before leaving, she managed to snag some old breeches and shirt from the laundry, and she's braided her hair and tucked it up as much as she could. Luckily for her, she's mostly ignored by the other men, aside from one man who growls at her when she bumps into him halfway into the morning that first day.

The group walks for hours; far longer than she's certainly ever walked at one time. She's tired and she's hungry and she hurts in places she's never hurt before. But, there is a strange sense of warmth comes over her as she settles into a place of her own, away from the others, nearer to the river that runs through the forest. With no knowledge of how to build a fire, Sansa is thankful for the warmth of the summer night and hungry as she is, realizes she's far more tired than anything else. After a sleepless night and endless walking, she will forgo food if only it means she can sleep.

And so she wanders closer to the water's edge, where there beneath the canopy of darkness, she finally lowers her hood.

From where he watches, Jon finds himself intrigued by what he sees.

He can't really say what draws him to follow the hooded figure out to the river beyond simple curioisity. But now as he watches, he sees hands pulling what certainly must be pins from hair and to his shock, long hair comes tumbling down. Now he's really curious.

And just then, a cloud above them shifts and the moonlight illuminates her.

The red hair is vibrant, the pale moonlight weaving between the strands like ribbons. He's stunned, but his foot snaps a twig all the same. When she whips around, it's steel blue eyes he finds himself staring into and Jon wonders, despite sixteen years beneath the same roof as her, he's never noticed that look within her eyes. "Sansa..." Her name is on his lips before he can stop it and he realizes now that she is quite like a deer in the crosshairs, a creature torn between fight and flight.

She can't believe this.

Her fleeting sense of safety has fled, vanished into the night the moment those Stark gray eyes settled upon her. Of course, she can't now understand how she ever expected to avoid Jon forever, but she had hoped to at least be further out than this when they did meet. "Jon," she greets, taking a step away from the river and closer to where he stands. The moonlight is bright and it illuminates Jon in a way that makes her blink, makes her think. "Please..." It's the only plea she can offer, the only words that in this moment, seem right to say.

Jon studies her for a long moment; all things considered, she must have had a good reason to come. Sansa Stark wasn't the type to just... Throw it all away without a reason. Her dream of marriage to a prince was to come true, after all. Her golden haired Prince Joffrey had arrived in Winterfell only days before; a smug, ugly sort of kid that had grown tall, taller than even Robb, but one that had stolen Sansa's heart all the same. Jon wonders what could have made her do what she'd done. "I won't," he promises suddenly, earnestly.

Her face relaxes, she smiles.

She feels safe once again and it is far warmer than it was before.

[namelessayakashi]

so I got this title with a different name in the title but ive decided to use the same title just with a different name. Title: THE SEARCH FOR MERLIN also i forgot to say the ship in the last one but hopefully you know what ship im talking abouttt

Oooh okay so you see.. I could make this super angsty or I could make it NOT super angsty....

Hmm.....

To prank or not to prank—to angst or not to angst...

The Search For Merlin

"Surely this really isn't necessary..." Merlin sighed from the chair he sat high upon, fidgeting with his deep blue ceremonial robes, a crown of flowers atop his head. The druids only grinned.

"Ah, my Lord Emrys, but it is!" The oldest one told him, "he must come, must find you on your throne, and ask for your hand here, in this sacred clearing, before the joining of man and magic may occur."

Merlin let out a soft sigh, pink colouring his cheeks. "I understand this is important to you, but really, you should have at least told him of this mission... Arthur's probably going crazy now. At least let... Mordred... tell him what's going on..."

The three druids stared at him a moment before turning to converse in private with one another. Merlin waited impatiently as the minutes passed, before finally they turned back to him.

"Alright. The young druid will be informed of his duty to tell the King about what he must do," The younger, albeit still old, woman announced, bowing her head, "so Emrys wishes, we shall do."

"Great..." Merlin sighed again, louder this time, leaning his head back to look at the sky.

"I can't believe I've been kidnapped on my wedding day..."

Or

Merlin and Arthur were set to marry in spring, four years after the magic ban was repealed and dragonlords had their nobility reinstated, three years after Arthur convinced Merlin to be his Court Sorcerer (which Merlin only agreed to after declaring he'd get to still maintain certain duties), two years after Morgana proposed to and married Guinevere, and one year after Arthur finally Merlin got tired of waiting and proposed.

The Kingdom was blooming with excitement for the King and Warlock. And then, the day finally came, and all that was meant to be well and exciting... Descended into chaos, upon the discovery that Merlin had been snatched from his dressing chambers while getting ready for the ceremony.

Now, the hunt was on to find Merlin. And Arthur, was... only a little panicked.

Until the young Sir Mordred appears with, very frustrating yet relieving, news.

So can you see which I've chosen? Hint: not angst

Hope you like it 👀👀👀

🤲🏻🤲🏻titles for my 8 arms pls🤲🏻🤲🏻

[orionwhispers]

Swan Song// Thomas Shelby 🍸

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

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

PART 1  PART 2

It was one of those dreamy midsummer nights.

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

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

It was perfect. Well - almost.

You missed him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That wasn’t the only reason though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That it has.”

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

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

“I’ve been busy.”

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

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

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

“The woman it’s for is worth it.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I decline.”

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

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

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

“Have you ever considered, Tom?”

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

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

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

“Yes. I have.”

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

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

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

—————————————————————

Your reaction was even better than he imagined.

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

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

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

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

“Everything’s in order.”

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

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

“It’s a celebration, brother.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re back.”

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

“And you should be in bed.”

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

You smelt of home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were going to be the death of him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Close your eyes.”

You huffed. “Is that really necessary?”

“Close ‘em.”

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

“Open.”

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s something else.”

“Tommy - ”

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

You inhaled sharply, feeling yourself floating.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Tommy. I love you.”

—————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laughed out loud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, that he liked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to be your what?”

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

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

“Yeah. Right.”

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

“Do I have to wear a dress?”

You grinned. “Only if you want to.”

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

“Alright. Okay. Yes! Bloody hell.”

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

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

You smiled, as sweet as spun sugar.

“Nope.”

—————————————————————-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mary? What is it?”

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

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

On July 20th

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

The wedding of the century!

————————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright you two, no time to lose!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. Fuck off, both of you.”

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

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

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

“Fuck tradition.”

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

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

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

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

“Alright. Bloody hell, fine.”

“Good decision brother.” Arthur said,

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

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

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

“Cmon, love, lets go.”

“Wait.”

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

“Be safe. Alright? I love you.”

“I love you.”

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

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

Every single one of them involved drinking.

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

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

“Hm?”

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

———————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh! Oh! I’m so sorry!”

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

————————————————————-

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

“Not having second thoughts are we?”

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

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

“I should be asking you the same question.”

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

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

“Bloody hell! Is he alright?”

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

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

“Wait! It’s after midnight!”

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

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

“(Y/N).”

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

You heard an exasperated laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

“She doesn’t scare me.”

“She should.”

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

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

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

“Do you think she’ll come?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think she will.”

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

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

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

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

————————————————————————

Polly let you sleep in until 8.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re glowing!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had never seen Polly cry.

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

“Thank you for making my boys so happy.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ve left the car running.”

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

“Just in case.” He continued.

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

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

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

“Really, (Y/N). You look... wow.”

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

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

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

“I wanted to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can handle her.”

“Can you?”

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

“It looks perfect.”

“I love it Michael.”

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

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

A moment of silence, and then:

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

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

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

————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were smitten, and so was he.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————————————————————-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————————————————-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tommy.”

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

God. Were you ever going to get used to him calling you that?

His hand slipped into yours and you melted, his lips grazing your ear lobe, deep accent rumbling like waves. “Cmon, lets go outside.”

You would have followed him anywhere, to the edge of the world if he had looked at you the way he was now, with those goddamn sky blue eyes and that smug, boyish grin.

Instead he led you through the party, playfully tugging on your hand as you both ran, desperate for nobody to see either of you and try to trap you in another mind numbing discussion. He took you through the servants entrance in the kitchen and into the courtyard, one of your favourite areas of the gardens. It was beautiful sculpted, with its high, emerald green bushes and intricately crafted pots and flower beds. You moved towards the fountain in the middle, surrounded by the rows of lilac and salmon tulips that swayed like ballet dancers in the wind.

He cleared his throat as you watched the water drip and fall and ripple down the stem of the fountain, the night sky reflected across it like a painting. It wasn’t chilly out but still he wrapped his blazer across your shoulders, filling your senses with cinnamon and nicotine and whisky sours.

“I want to read you my vows.” He said.

You turned to face him, confused.

“I know we both said we weren’t writing them, and I haven’t, not really, but there are some things I need to say to you.”

You opened your mouth to speak but closed it, watching him under the moonlight, how beautiful and how strong and how vulnerable he seemed all at once. You could feel your heart beating rapidly, your belly coiling and twisting, somehow he always managed to knock you off balance. He came towards you, close enough you could see the faint scars on his face from fights he had both won and lost, see the brilliance in his eyes and the sadness that always seemed to linger deep down in them, the curve of his lips and the sharpness of his teeth, the way that they had clenched around your heart and never let go.

“I deserve a lot of bad things. I do bad things, and I always thought that everything good would be taken away from me. I wasn’t born into a life like this, I’ve worked hard and given my blood sweat and tears to live like this, to get the things I have now. I’ve spent a lot of nights alone. Fuck, I’ve... felt alone since the moment I got on that train to France, and ever since I’ve been trying to find... something.”

“I thought it was all of this, but maybe it isn’t. I was always searching for the next big thing, the next move on the chessboard, the next city to take over. I didn’t realise how none of it made me happy until I walked into the Garrison the day you came here.”

A pause. A beat of silence.

“Look, I’m not the most articulate man, but God, I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you since the very first moment that I saw you. And - and - ” His voice crackles, fizzles out like a firework. “That day that I almost lost you, that nearly fucking killed me. That was when I realised that you were the thing I was searching for. You’re it for me.”

His hands on yours, pulling you in.

“For the first time in my life I don’t have to pretend to be happy. Whenever I see you, I just am. I can’t promise that I’m not going to fuck it up, but I’m trying, you make me want to try. You want to make me be better. You make me better.”

“I love you, (Y/N).”

He said, pressing his palm to your jawline, looking in your eyes with such sincerity and love that you felt as though you were floating.

“Oh, Tommy.” You breathed into the night, swept up and drowning in him, lost in lust and love and devotion, pressing your lips to his. “I love you.”

[kimmyiewrites]

Finding Home ~ Chpt 4

Catch Up      Masterlist      AO3

AN:  So this is the last chapter that had some New Girl inspiration. I also decided against chopping this in half so you get the full wedding goodness. Thanks for all the love already! I hope enjoy this next chapter. I can't wait to see what you think!

“So you want me to go to a stranger’s wedding as Jack’s fake girlfriend so you two don’t have to spend your time being babysitter?” Katherine asked, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised as she looked at the two boys standing in front of her.

Charlie pushed Romeo back a little bit so he could be front and center. He knew having Romeo explain this would be a bad idea, yet he let the other boy continue on explaining things. “It’s not like that, Kath.”

“Then what is it like?” Katherine interrupted causing Charlie to sigh even if he felt like he should have expected something like that from the woman sitting in front of him.

“Believe it or not, Jack has been working through some heartbreak over the last six months. He and Sarah were dating for about four years when she decided to call it quits. Sarah is Davey’s older sister and the only reason why you haven’t met Davey is ‘cause he’s been so busy with work and planning this wedding that even we haven’t seen ‘im. So she’s gonna be there and we can’t keep Sarah away by ourselves so we need your help.” He came over and sat next to her on her bed, eyes wide and pleading like a puppy’s. “You don’t even have to act super couplely. Just hold hands, maybe share a dance or two. Or do you really want to watch nothing but westerns and have paint everywhere? And I mean everywhere. Your bedroom isn’t even safe.”

Katherine looked between Charlie and Romeo, not quite believing what Charlie had said. Romeo nodded when he caught Katherine’s gaze. When Jack got upset, it was not pretty. “Your bedroom is definitely not safe since yours is the one with the fire escape.” He added, hoping that he and Charlie could scare her just enough to get her to agree.

She moved off her bed and made her way over to the window. She peered out at the fire escape landing and sure enough she saw various dried paint splatters along the metal. She took a deep breath and turned back around. “Fine, I’ll do it, but each of you have to make me breakfast and lunch for an entire week. So I suggest you two figure out who’s better at what and it cannot just be money either. Home cooked meals from the both of you.”

Charlie stood, turning to face Katherine. “You make a hard bargain Ms. Plumber but you got yourself a deal.” He spit in his hand and extended it out to her.

Her nose wrinkled in disgust but it was clear that this was how they did things especially after Romeo copied the act. Well, at least it wasn’t signing with their blood. Katherine sighed before spitting into her own hand and shaking both of theirs.

The day of the wedding was upon them. Katherine flitted about the apartment, offering to do anything but actually get ready. She didn’t know why but this whole thing made her nervous. After a phone call with Darcy, she looked herself in the mirror, told herself she was Kate Davis’ daughter and that she could mingle like the best of them. That small pep talk got her hair and makeup done but now she stood, staring at her closet as if the perfect dress would just jump out at her.

“If you didn’t want to go, princess, you could have just said no.” Jack said, walking into Katherine’s room and taking in how she was still dressed in her robe. He had knocked before making his way in but clearly she hadn’t heard it because he was sure she wouldn’t have jumped at the sound of his voice.

She turned around and shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I just don’t know what dress to wear? Do I match you? Do I wear a long one or a short one? What are the wedding party colors? Cause I definitely don’t want to match those.”

Jack sighed and sat on the edge of her bed. Were things really that difficult? He was pretty sure that no matter what she wore, she’d be beautiful. “Alright, what are the options?”

That made her eyes light up as she hurried into her closet. It made him wonder why she was so nervous, yet it put him at ease because if he had to spend time focusing on her then it was less time he was focusing on his own nerves. Then again focusing on her proved to be dangerous.

She had reappeared in a green dress which he quickly declined after commenting on how it made her look like a lime. Then she came out in an orange dress, feeling a little more confident about it. Jack rolled his eyes. “I’m not taking someone that looks like a fruit to this wedding.”

Katherine let out a huff and went back into her closet. That was a no on the purple one, he’d say she’d look like a grape. “What about these?” She came out holding up a black dress and a gray dress that had a pink color blocked stripe at the bottom of the skirt.

“Davey’s wearing a gray suit and you really think black is a good choice for a wedding?” He quirked his eyebrow up.

She looked over at the little black dress she had and groaned in frustration as she stormed back into her closet. After a few moments of hearing hangers slide against the hanging rod, she reappeared in a blue ombre dress that had a pattern imprinted on it. Gold pumps adorned her feet, and her hands were hidden by the pockets the dress had. “Now I know we’ll be sort of matching but the blues are two totally different shades…” She began but then she saw Jack’s face. A small smirk played on her lips as she took notice of the speechless Jack, a sight she wasn’t too used to seeing.

“Will you two come on, we’re going to be late.” Romeo halted in his tracks in barging into Katherine’s room. His eyes widened at the sight of Katherine. “I think that’s the dress. What’d ya think Jack?”

Jack blinked a few times before nodding his head. “Yeah, yeah, that’s the one. Now let’s go before Charlie comes in here whacking us all with his crutch to get a move on.”

Romeo nodded, turning to leave as Jack stood from the bed. He offered out his arm, which Katherine took and off they went.

Katherine had arranged for a rental car since the venue was in Millbrook. The boys made a fuss but she shut them down about how it was about as much as getting an uber there. She even promised to be the designated driver and they finally agreed. Once she parked, Charlie and Romeo made their way to see who of their crew had arrived already. Katherine was set to follow, pretty excited to see Tony again but was stopped by Jack.

Jack waited until Charlie and Romeo were far enough away, knowing his two friends had been worried about today which was the whole reason why Katherine was even here. He reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could get too far. She spun around, a silent question in her eyes as she looked at him. He looked around one more time to make sure no one saw him speaking with her so candidly. He was meant to be the confident leader of the bunch after all. “I don’t know if I can actually do this.” He whispered.

Katherine gave him a reassuring smile and stepped closer to him. She began straightening his tie and flattening out his collar and the lapels of his suit jacket. “You are here for your best friend. To support him and his soon to be bride. You are here to see friends you haven’t seen in a long time and you’ve got one more ace up your sleeve.”

He quirked an eyebrow up. “Oh, yeah, and what’s that?”

“Me,” she smiled up at him. “I’ll be your get away driver if you really need it.” She halfway joked.

That caused him to chuckle. He let out a deep breath as he nodded. He could get through this. “C’mon then ace, you gotta meet the fellas before this thing starts.” He walked forward a little bit before offering her his hand. She took the few final steps to catch up with him, sliding her hand into his. The pair continued walking to where the rest of the Lodging House crew were standing as if it was the most natural thing in the world for them, doing things together.

Katherine felt like she hadn’t laughed like this in a long time. Her sides ached and her cheeks hurt from laughing at all of the stories Jack and his friends told. She almost wished she would have met them sooner. Then all laughing stopped and Jack took ahold of her hand again. A brunette dressed in a coral dress had made her way into their circle. “Hey, Jack.” She gave him a soft smile, one that still made his heart flutter.

“Sarah.” He forced a grin and Katherine thought her fingers were going to be squeezed off.

“Oh, my stars, so you’re Sarah.” Katherine’s tone took on a light, airy sound, one she hadn’t used in ages. She didn’t even know why her voice took on that quality and then she remembered the lesson her mother taught her about being the best hostess even if a person attending was not someone you particularly liked. “My name’s Katherine, and well, I’m Jack’s new girl for coming up on three months next Tuesday.” She stepped forward, not losing contact with Jack and holding out her free hand.

The whole group was looking at Katherine as if she had three heads. “Uh, nice to meet you, Katherine.” Sarah shook the other woman’s hand.

Jack cleared his throat. “Well, princess, we should probably go find a seat.”

Katherine nodded. “You’re absolutely right.” She then began to lead him through the crowd to a seat on the groom’s side.

“What on earth was that?” Jack looked at her, eyes still wide, not believing what just happened.

Katherine looked mortified. “Oh, my god, I’m becoming my mother.”

She turned to look at them and when they finally took in each other’s expressions they burst into laughter, Katherine leaning her head on his shoulder as they laughed. “I think I deserve at least one drink for that.” She said through her giggling.

Jack nodded. “Okay, I’ll give you that one.

She then took note how Sarah gave Jack a longing glance as she walked up to the first row to take her seat. “You know, surprising enough, I think she’s actually jealous.”

He glanced towards where Sarah was sitting, shocked. “Really?”

Before they could discuss it any further, the ceremony began.

“She’s coming over here, could you go get us more drinks?” Jack asked, spotting Sarah making her way over from the table she had been sitting at.

Katherine shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jack.”  

He gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ll be fine, Kath.”

She looked at him for a moment before nodding her head, getting up to go get them something to drink. “Well, hey there, Tony.” She smiled, seeing the former roommate.

“You know I was shocked to see you here but I see what the fellas did to ya.” He laughed, turning to face her.

“I got breakfast and lunch out of ‘em so no hard feelings.” She grinned.

“Well, damn, Katherine, you’re smarter than ya look.”

Sean came up and nudged Tony in the side. “Be nice. I think you said a few days after you left that you kind of missed her.”

Katherine placed a hand over her heart and smiled up at the taller boy. “Anthony Higgins, you missed me? I’m flattered.”

Tony rolled his eyes and handed the drink he had poured for Sean to him. “Don’t let it get to your head, doll. I said I missed the fellas too.”

They all laughed until Katherine noticed Jack and Sarah walking off hand in hand, looking rather cozy. “I hate to cut this reunion short, but I should probably go try and get him back.” She moved to set the drinks back down but Sean placed a hand on her shoulder.

“He’ll be fine, Katherine. I want to get to know the person who apparently out stubborn my Race.” He chuckled, handing her back the drinks. “Charlie’s just over protective.”

She let out a sigh, figuring it wouldn’t be all that great to cause a scene at a wedding to a person she only briefly met as they mingled about each of the tables thanking everyone for coming. “If I get paint in my room…”

“I’ll come personally clean it.” Sean promised, interrupting her threat.

Jack had revealed that Katherine was actually just a roommate when he felt it pretty obvious that Sarah was in fact jealous. She continued to flirt with him as they caught up, congratulating him on his latest show. Then she suggested them going to the photo booth. Being in so close proximity to her was intoxicating. Maybe, just maybe they could give this a shot again.

He opened his mouth just as her phone rang and she said something that shattered all the hope their short time together had brought up. “Oh, I’ve got to take this, it’s my boyfriend. Meet ya back out there?”

All he could do was nod before watching her leave. He stepped out of the photo booth and took out the small strip that held the four different photos they took. He look at each one, dragging his finger longingly along the strip before ripping it in half and throwing it away. Jack looked out to the room, trying to find Katherine. He was ready to go. Charlie and Romeo could get their own rides home and it looked as though they would. Good for them, he thought. Just because he wasn’t lucky in the love department didn’t mean he wouldn’t be happy for his friends.

He finally found Katherine. She was laughing at something Les had said as they danced together. He didn’t want to interrupt that. So he turned around and went back to the rental car. He would wait for her or for the whole group to be done. Either way, he would wait in this car, away from everyone until someone was ready to go home.

He went to open the door but the door handle just bounced back. He tried again and again but to no avail. His one escape was locked and he didn’t have the keys. He shouted in frustration and kicked the tire. He let out a huff, at the realization he had to go back inside and hit the passenger side window. The car alarm blared into the night, mixing with the low thrum of the music coming from inside. Jack groaned again and just sank to the ground.  

After the song ended, Katherine excused herself from the dancefloor. She began to look for any sign of Jack or Sarah. They had, had enough time together and it was maybe even time for Jack to take a break. Jack was currently no where to be found but she located Sarah over by the dessert table. “Hey, do you know where Jack is?”

Sarah looked towards Katherine, licking off some icing from her finger. “You can cut the act. He told me you guys were just roommates.”

Katherine just stared at the other woman. How did that even answer her question? “Okay, great. So where is he?”

“I haven’t seen him since I took a call from my boyfriend.” Sarah shrugged, taking a bite of the cupcake she just picked out.

“You have a boyfriend?” Katherine’s eyes widened and her heartbeat sped up. She needed to find Jack and fast.

Sarah nodded. “Yeah, I just wanted to catch up with him. See how he’s been.”

Katherine narrowed her eyes at the other woman. She could easily point out all the wrong Sarah had done and how Jack most certainly didn’t view their conversation as them just catching up. She needed to find Jack though so she didn’t need to waste anymore precious time. “Well, then I hope you live a long and happy life, Sarah.” Her voice was ice cold before she spun around and marched out of the building.

In the distance, she saw flashing lights but didn’t hear the steady beeping that usually paired with a car alarm. Something told her to go near it though, so that’s what she did. As she got closer she realized that the lights were coming from the car she rented. She picked up her pace and when she finally got to the row she parked on, she noticed a figure sitting against the side of the car.

Her heart broke at the sight of the dejected Jack Kelly. She pulled the keys out of her pocket and stopped the alarm, unlocking it in the process. The sound startled a half asleep Jack, and he looked towards Katherine.

“Jack, why didn’t you come get me?” She asked, stepping closer to him, lowering herself down to sit next to him.

“Cause you were having fun with Les and I didn’t wanna wait in there any longer.” He looked at her briefly, not wanting to think about how she looked like an angel coming to save him. The glow from the lights at the venue casted the perfect back lighting for her not to even mention how it mixed with the moon. He turned his attention forward and started picking at the grass instead.

Katherine sighed. “You still could have come get me.”

A few moments of silence passed between them before Jack spoke up. “She had a boyfriend, Ace. She was jealous of you and me and even flirted with me. I shouldn’t have asked you to go get us drinks.” His voice was quiet, as if not being loud with his comment would make him less vulnerable.

She scooted closer to him, raising her arm up so she could wrap it around his shoulders. With her free hand, she took his that was resting in between them and gave it a small squeeze. His head came to rest on her shoulder as she just held him, offering up all the comfort she could. “Listen to me, Jack Kelly, what she did in there to you was not right. It’s all kinds of wrong actually but that is all on her, not on you. This is her loss, not yours. You deserve so much better, Jack, so, so much better. You’re gonna find yourself a girl that thinks you hang up the stars and sees how smart, talented, brave, and kind you are. She’s gonna love you with all of her being and she would never let you go.”

Katherine lowered her head and kissed the top of his without even giving it a second thought. “Now let’s get outta here, huh? I’ll make hot chocolate and you can finally show me that Sundance Kid movie.”

Jack sat up with a gasp. “It is not just that Sundance Kid movie.”

Before he could go on a rant about one of his favorite movies, she stood up. “Well get in the car and you can show me why it’s so great.” She reached out her hands and helped him up.

They most definitely didn’t have hot chocolate when they got back to the apartment. Jack pulled out the bottle he claimed to be his twin and the two played a drinking game while watching his favorite movie. Between Jack taking extra sips and all of the gunshots and explosions, they both were more than a little drunk.

At the end of the movie, Katherine tried to regain her wits about her. She wasn’t as far gone as Jack but she was definitely not sober either. She stood up, focused on working to regain her balance and then helped Jack up off the couch. His arm was draped across her shoulders as her arm was wrapped around his torso.

She was able to get him into his bedroom and to his bedside, getting him into bed, however was a different story. She was just glad they both had decided to change before watching the movie. She was just about to tell him that she wasn’t going to tuck him in when he pressed his index finger to her lips. “Shush up a minute, princess, I just wanna thank ya.” He lowered his head, giving into an urge he’s wanted to do practically since he’s met her.

Katherine stepped back though. Her words may be slurred but she wasn’t that far gone. She wasn’t going to be just the girl who made Sarah go away. She wasn’t going to be the rebound. “Not like this.” She whispered, shaking her head as she looked into his stormy hazel eyes as he processed one more rejection this evening.

He nodded, grasping onto what her words meant, or at least trying to in his drunken fog. “Will you at least stay?” He asked, plopping down on his bed, eyes drooping. There were maybe a few more seconds before he was out like a light.

She chewed on her bottom lip, thinking it over. She then sighed and nodded, going over to close his bedroom door. He smiled as he got himself more under the covers, waiting for Katherine to join him.

They laid side by side for awhile, looking up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what was going on. The need for sleep and the warm, fuzzy feelings they were feeling pulling them further and further under the sandman’s spell. Soon comfort out weighed their need to keep boundaries between them. Katherine shifted, turning on her side, tucking her head under his chin and using his chest as her pillow. Jack shifted, accommodating his new blanket, draping his arms around her. Neither of them realized when they finally fell asleep.

[hearteyes-candyskies]

Odysseus

yandere shouto x reader, background shinsou x reader

summary; im a lil too obsessed with greek myth and purple prose and shouto’s too obsessed with u. peep the title if u still dont know what this is abt

tw; blood, death

word count; 2.6k

X

the cast

of course, we have our brave and guileful hero, Todoroki Shouto, as Odysseus himself, Nobody, King of Ithaca, and Son of Laertes. you play the role of sweet Penelope, Helen’s pretty mortal cousin. brash Antinous is portrayed by Yoarashi Inasa. and Shinsou Hitoshi is our silver-tongued Eurymachus

the first glance

Shouto first comes for the hand of your demi-god cousin, Helen, who is said to rival Aphrodite in beauty. you don’t like this farce your uncle puts on, summoning men from all over Greece to compete for Helen’s hand in marriage; she is still a child, only 16, and with no say in her future. still, you think, rather guiltily, better her than you. you do your best to avoid the suitors who come in hope of Helen’s hand, lest the see you and decide that they would like a consolation prize. downward gazes, veiled hair, and thick, draping robes all help to deflect attention, and you mange to pass unnoticed for the first couple weeks. all of this changes when he arrives. it’s said that nothing escapes his watchful gaze, and when his icy eyes sweep over you, you can feel yourself freeze as you pull your shawl just a little closer. he pauses for a fraction of a second, and yet you are unimaginably relieved when he moves on to inspect the crowd of nobles gathered in the corner

the pursuit

that night, you appear only as needed for the festivities before hurrying off to your rooms to weave. you’re rushing through one of the more abandoned hallways, preferring to walk a little extra rather than run into a drunk man, and when you turn the corner, room in view, Shouto stops you. maybe stop is too vague of a word; rather, he cages you in, not only with a casual hand against the wall, but also societal niceties. you desperately want to push him away, run for the refuge of your room, but to do so would be to slight all of Ithaca and bring his wrath down on your father. Shouto knows this, too. he tries to woo you first, honeyed words and a silver tongue, but you’re the daughter of a king. you’re used to gold. he tells you that the minute he saw you hiding away in the corners of shadows that his heart would beat for no other, and that he had to have you no matter what it took. 

‘such a delicate thing, whose humble beauty is overshadowed by your cousin’s,’ he says. it doesn’t escape your notice how docile he makes you out to be, and while you were raised to be demure and refined lady, if Shouto really thinks you’re going to sit back and let him take you away, he’s wrong. he seems to sense the little fire of rebellion deep within you, but rather than putting him off, it only stokes his desire. lust flares in his eyes, and from that moment onward you know that you’ve trapped yourself in an obsessive relationship

the snare

Shouto leaves Tyndareus’ house with an alliance of the Greek city states and your hand in marriage. his quick wit and silver tongue allows him to secure the visiting nobles into a united agreement; Tyndareus will choose a husband for Helen, and all other men must leave without quarrel, and come when called upon. in return, Tyndareus will support Shouto in his pursuit of you. you know who the man is before your uncle even speaks, for in your agreement to marry Shouto, you asked that he might provide a kind and worthy man as Helen’s spouse. once again Helen lords over your life, but you cannot find it within yourself to hate her for it. after all, she is but a mere child, still too young to understand that her beauty is not really hers, that her life will always be in the hands of other men. still, one could argue that you are but a child, too. the ceremony is beautiful; you wear a dress of the finest fabric, a material softer and finer and lighter than any sort of linen you have ever encountered but one that Shouto assures you is worth it’s weight in gold. if he thinks to buy your love with material goods, you’ll allow yourself to be spoiled but you will never part with your affection willingly. at least, that’s what you think. Shouto has other plans

the early years

even from the beginning Shouto’s love is overbearing and extreme, but he’s a powerful king who treats you well and kept your cousin safe so there’s not much you can complain about. you’re just barely out of childhood, children who have been burdened with great power and yet the love and devotion he looks at you with is unparalleled. you have a feeling that he would fight even the gods to keep you. he’s kind and considerate; for the first two years of marriage he neither beds you nor tries do, despite the pressure he must feel to produce an heir and the weight of your family’s expectations. these gifts, these personal liberties he allows you to have, the way he lets you roam the island at your own leisure, this is why you fall in love with him. it’s odd; you never thought you would love the stoic king of Ithaca, but it seems that Aphrodite has other plans for you. on your twentieth birthday, you welcome him into your bed for the first time, and less than a month later, you discover that you are with child. it’s the next turning point in your marriage

the worse years

after the birth of Telemachus, Shouto’s love changes once again. once forgiving and relaxed about your interactions with others, he seeks to hide you away for only himself to see. the worst is when men approach you. it does not matter what their intentions are, nor their age nor stature nor standing; Shouto claims that his heart beats only for you, and thus yours should beat only for him. his demands to know where you’ve been and who you’ve talked to become more and more intense, until the island loses it’s queen. you are a prisoner in your own home, with Shouto smothering you in love, spending the whole of his day just lounging with you while he addresses kingly matters. bitterly, you think how you have never had any power to your name, not the way that men do and not the way that Shouto does. your rooms are nothing but a gilded cage, and you are almost glad when he is summoned for war. almost. after all, you do love the soft, kind boy that he once was

the war

throughout the war, you hear of your husband’s exploits. his bravery, his cunning, his skill. whenever you do not hear about him, your heart aches in fear, though you do not know if you wish him alive or dead. a year after the way has ended, when Helen has been reunited with Menelaus again, when Agamemnon is dead and Cassandra gone, when Aeneas has set sail for New Iliium, not yet Rome, the suitors come trickling in. at first, you do not know what to do, for festivities and mean both ceased to exist within the palace walls after the birth of your son. two catch your eye, bold Antinous, known as Inasa, sweet beyond his brash exterior, and sly Eurymachus, whose wit you see in your husband and whose charm is only his own. by the end of the second year after the fall of Troy, it is obvious who your heart beats for. the sight of purple sets your heart alight, and his small smiles are as sweet as the finest honey. you wonder if this is how Odysseus felt when he first saw you. 

‘call me Hitoshi’, he says, and the way it rolls off your tongue is a sign that this love was meant to be. he asks for your hand in marriage three times. each time a flash of red and white causes your throat clog with fear, and though you know that you deny him out of protection, it makes the tears no less painful. even the loss of your husband cannot set you free

the reprieve 

after Hitoshi’s third proposal, you set about weaving a shroud for your vanished lover. each day you weave ten rows, and each night you unravel five more. the sun-drenched days you spend with your violet-haired lover only fuel a blazing passion within you, but when he is gone, when you are alone in a cold room meant for two, the icy gaze of your husband haunts you, and you cannot help but delay the inevitable once more. you will bury your love, one day. you just cannot find the courage now. in the end of the fifth year after the fall of Troy, you finish the shroud. 

Hitoshi is too respectful to rejoice, but you can see the relief in his eyes that you have finally put the memory of your husband to rest. plans are made, friends contacted, and suitors long vacated return to your halls in preparation of a beautiful wedding. the palace swells with life once more, the boisterous laughter of the men filling the halls and driving away the cold of the night. when night falls, you rest your head against Hitoshi’s chest, his arm slung carelessly across your shoulders, and you listen to the steady sound of his heartbeat, and rejoice in the constancy of his love. 

where Shouto is the sun, bright and brilliant and life giving, but prone to flares of temper and burning those his affections focus on, Hitoshi is the moon; silver-tongued and soft, reflecting the radiance of others and giving the world a gentle glow. yet, despite your happiness, despite the love and life that is promised, you cannot help but feel a pit of worry in your gut

the unraveling 

not more than a week after the former suitors’ arrival, your anxieties are confirmed in the form of a beggar. he is naught but an old man, merely claiming to know of the great king Odysseus, yet you cannot help but lean away from Hitoshi, your lover, and sit as if unhappy with the festivities. something about your mysterious visitor doesn’t sit right with you, and when he proclaims that Odysseus has escaped death, you know why. Inasa laughs, the scent of wine and honey heavy on his breath, and declares Odysseus dead. 

‘his wife has burned the shroud she wove, not more than a month ago. dead men do not return five years after their fall.’ you want nothing more than to silence him, fear brewing in your stomach, and you are too busy giving panicked glances to your dear friend to notice how the stranger’s eyes train on you alone. a curt nod affirms Inasa’s statement, and your voice is steady when you answer. 

‘less than a moon ago I laid the memory of my husband to rest. it has been ten long years, five years too long for a living man to return.’ you say this, and yet, you cannot wonder if this is a test . who is this man who claims to know of your husband, whose eyes burn like ice against your skin? you have to know, and perhaps it is your curiosity that causes your downfall

the slaughter 

when the guests wake the next day, you propose a challenge. it’s selfish of you, borne out of a need for reassurance, a need to know that your husband truly is dead and that your love lives and will remain living. the great bow of Odysseus, only to be strung and shot by the man himself, is brought out, and forty axes are planted in the great hall. 

‘this bow was my husbands, may his soul rest in Hades, and it was said that only he could wield it. who among you will try?’ man after man step up, failing good naturedly and patting Hitoshi on the back when he too does the same. you don’t mind his inability to wield the bow; in fact, it comforts you that your husband has been laid to rest, that his memory will not live on even in his weapons. then, the beggar from last night comes forward, and though you know that the decrepit body of his will be unable to sustain the force needed to even string the bow, fear runs thick in your blood. it is like you have been struck by Zeus, watching as the stranger strings the bow with ease, before launching an arrow straight through the great axes in the hall. your husband stands, and shakes off the illusion like a fur coat. 

‘my love’ is all he says, and before you can react there’s an arrow buried in Agelaus’ heart and an expression of horror burned into his face. he orders you to the bedroom, your shared bedroom, but you stand still in shock, unable to move as he slaughters the men you have called friends in the very place you once called a prison. soon, far too quickly, there is none left save for brave Inasa and your lover Hitoshi. the look of disgust on your husband’s face as he rounds on Inasa, sword drawn, is unimaginable. 

‘you come into my house, flaunt the rules of xenia, court my wife, and desire mercy? you will have no justice except for the bite of my blade.’ Inasa dies inelegantly, loud voice lost in a fountain of blood pouring from his throat. as Shouto stalks towards Hitoshi, it as all you can do to throw yourself around your lover, despite your please, Hitoshi steps out from behind you, hands placating and silver tongue spilling words of peace and goodwill. you want to tell him that silver tongues fail against tongues of gold, but it is too late and in the end all you can do is hold your love as the life bleeds from his eyes, forgiving and gentle to the very end

the ruins

the hem of your fine silk dress is soaked in blood when Shouto pulls you into his embrace, and you call brokenly for the servants to keep your son from seeing the carnage. he should never have to know the monster that his father is. as you look into his face, worn by the horrors of war and lined by time, you cannot help but hope that this is not your husband who has just perpetuated such a crime, that the soft red and white haired boy you once knew is dead, and a god holds you in their arms instead. 

it’s a desperate, last ditch attempt to save the face of a man who once brought the life of Ithaca to you, and when you ask him to prove that he is Odysseus, that he is Shouto, your husband, you hope that he cannot speak anything but lies and half truths. he asks what you would want to hear from him, and you tell him that you have tired of sleeping alone and would like him to move to the bed in your bridal chamber, as only Odysseus himself would be able to lift it. 

Shouto smiles, the years slipping off his face, and for a second you’re staring into the eyes of a man who helped your cousin, a man who waited two years to even touch you because he wanted to respect your decision to love him at your own pace, the man who gave you your greatest joy, Telemachus. he strokes your hair, love clouding his beautiful eyes, and tells you that it cannot be done, for he built the bed himself around a living olive tree. your heart sinks in disappointment, and you know that no divinity stands before you, only a god of a man. as you fall into his arms and sob, he holds you close, arms just a little too tight as he whispers soft comforts in your ear. 

‘I am home, my love, and you have been here, waiting faithfully for me’