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orionwhispers · 4 years

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Sweet Disaster// Tommy Shelby

(A/N - hello. so basically, i had a dream about chris evans, and then i modified it into this tommy imagine. it was supposed to be a drabble but i physically cannot write anything less than 12k words so thats great. honestly this is very similar to ‘fools gold’ but hey, im in the mood for some angsty fluff and fighting with our main guy tom. next tommy imagine will be the lolita wedding and that will be the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed. thanks for everything, PLS let me know what u think. see you soon! stay safe!)

trigger warnings: fighting, tommy being a douche, everyone being a dumbass, tommy getting jealous and implied sex.

You saw him on a Saturday night, at a bar on the outskirts of the city.

It had been three months, and you had hoped you would have managed to slip through the cracks; pass through the night like the foxes that roamed in the back alleys - but you had never been that lucky, especially not when he was involved.

It was your friend’s birthday, and you tipped back glass after glass of expensive champagne that bubbled and burned at the back of your throat. The lights were blinding, twinkling chandeliers and the smell of cigarettes and french perfume, something like bergamot and vanilla, lingering in the air.

Your dress was cherry red, your hair tied back with a sequinned headband and your lips and cheeks painted in rouge, but you had never felt so awful. It had been bad enough trying to find something to wear, the contents of your wardrobe tipped all over your floor, a mess of mesh and feather and lace, almost everything reminding you of him, as if he had been stitched right into the fabric. You had ended up curled in a ball on the floor, wiping your tears with the Chanel blouse he had bought back from a business trip in Paris.

Stupid fucking boys.

You could hear the girls talking around you, high pitched giggles and exaggerated voices as they gossiped about something or other that faded into static around you. You had spent the past three months holed up in your flat, only leaving for work or the street market on Sunday, stocking up with bread and wine and cheese, everything carb filled and rich to fill the hole in your heart.

You weren’t used to the company of others or the hustle and bustle of a crowded room, and you sat back against the plush cherry velvet seats, dreaming of climbing into bed and devouring the slab of dark chocolate you had been saving.

Your close friend Emma, the one who knew the reason you were staring into space and not laughing and drinking with the rest of the girls, placed a manicured hand on your shoulder, and tilted her head slightly.

“How are you holding up?”

You snapped out of your trance.“I’m fine. I’m sorry I’m not much fun right now.”

“Nonsense.” She pushed you lightly, her voice as soft and playful as ever. “At least you came out! It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“Yeah - I’m sure everyone missed having me bawl like a baby and mope around.”

She elbowed you, “Stop bloody feeling sorry for yourself and have a shot! Christ! You can spend the rest of the week wrapped up in your duvet, but tonight - suck it up, and have a drink!”

She handed you a glass of something dark, and you brought it to your lips, tipping it into your throat with a wince. It felt as though you were drinking petrol.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. All that matters is that it’s top shelf and it came from those fellas over there.” She pointed towards a group of men huddled around the bar. They were shooting quick glances and sly winks towards you and your friends. Sure they were relatively attractive, most likely handsomely rich and dressed in suits that looked finely tailored - but they made your skin crawl.

You hated the way that you would always be comparing other men to him, and you especially hated how they would always come up short.

An hour later and whatever liquor was coursing through your bloodstream had done its job, and everything seemed infinitely brighter. You even found yourself laughing at jokes and stories that you only caught halfway through, the alcohol wonderfully dizzying your brain.

You were so caught up in the rush of being drunk and finally feeling somewhat happy for the first time in forever; that you didn’t realise you had caught the attention of one of the men across the bar. You felt him sidle in next to you, following his friends who had snaked their way into your booth, their arms slung around the girls shoulders, whispering sweet little sentiments into their ears.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked, so close to you that you could smell the sour whiskey on his tongue, your nose wrinkling.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Perhaps you had spent so long being ‘Tommy Shelby's girl’ that you had forgotten what it was like when you were being hit on. You had spent so many nights safely tucked under his arm, his hands possessively wrapped around your body, an unspoken threat sent out to everyone and anyone around you - it had been a long time since a man had tried his luck with you.

Perhaps you were so infatuated with him that you never noticed anybody else. Your mind forever filled with visions of oceanic eyes and three piece suits, his Birmingham accent ringing through your ears like a gospel. He invaded all of your thoughts and infiltrated your dreams, and you loathed and loved him for it. The way that he filled your brain and heart like smoke, clouding your decisions and judgments, like some kind of magical elixir, blurring everything but the shape of him.

The man beside you didn’t concede. He cleared his throat, running a finger over the rim of your glass, ignoring the way your eyebrows furrowed and lip curled.

“Let me get you a drink, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl.

It sounded so wrong. It was never pretty girl. It was - darling, sweetheart, princess. It was - my love, honey, kitten. It was said teasingly and exasperatedly, it was whispered in your ear and buried into the space between your thighs. It was never said in the sticky corner of a club, from the greedy mouth of a stranger undressing you with his eyes.

“I’m - ” Taken. But you weren’t, not anymore, and you hated the way the thought of him made your lip wobble. It’s had been three goddamn months, why did the memory of him still make your body go up in flames?

Emma stiffened beside you, waving a dismissive hand at the gentleman speaking to her, and turned to face you and your unmoving suitor.

“We’re alright here, love. Thanks.”

A flicker of annoyance. His fingers tightening until his knuckles turned white, his tongue running across the ridge of his front teeth. He obviously didn’t take rejection well, and he was doing a shitty job at hiding it.

“Are you sure? It looks like she could do with another drink.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes rolling back at the way he dismissed you and spoke as though you were incapable of thinking for yourself.

“I’m fine.” Your words were curt and clipped, a clear indication of your disinterest, but he refused to back down.

“You shouldn’t be here all alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Really? What kind of man would leave a pretty little thing like you all by herself?”

“The kind of man that would punch you in the fucking teeth for speaking to her like that.”

You froze.

Oh Christ.

A million irreverent, evil, blasphemous phrases hurtled inside of your mind, and you knew that if Polly somehow ever caught wind of what you were thinking, you would be on the receiving end of a sharp slap around the head.

He was here. Of bloody course he was. He had a knack for showing up out of the blue and knocking all of the wind from your lungs.

It hurt like an open wound, feeling his eyes on you, the same ones that had looked at you with love and humour and gentleness, and not being able to fully meet his gaze - knowing just how much it would hurt if you did.

“She’s with me.”

His voice was firm, laced with the same sort of dismissive irritability he used to use whenever somebody tried their luck with you. This time was different however, you couldn’t roll your eyes and kiss him, you couldn’t put your head in the crook of his neck or mutter that you were his under the golden chandeliers, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hip.

You couldn’t do any of that anymore, because you weren’t.

The man seemed pick up on the tension, clicking his tongue slyly, unaware of the consequences his words would have. “Doesn’t seem like she is.”

“Get the fuck out.”

The penny must have dropped for the rest of the boys. The booth going silent as they realised just who the handsome shadowy figure towering over them was. You felt them slowly inch away, head down and gazes low, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. A few hushed mumbles of “holy shit! That’s Tommy Shelby! One of those blinders!” hurtling around the tables beside you, not completely drowned out by clatter of the jazz band.

“I have every right to be here.” The ballsy stranger said, stiffening up beside you. His spine curled as he tried to make himself bigger. “Who says I have to leave?”

You huffed at his words, exhaling like a balloon. “That’s enough.” You didn’t want to cause a scene. You were exhausted, the night taking such a sudden turn you felt like you had whiplash, and the alcohol sat deep in your gut like a rock. You just wanted to get home, away from the man you wanted so badly your fingers ached to hold him, and crawl into your bed with your cat and a mountain of chocolate.

“Well, considering I own the fucking place, I think that I do - and if you don’t, I’ll shoot you.”

That seemed to do it.

You kept your eyes focused on the mans paling face, the grim look washing over him like salty sea air, you didn't dare turn and face the man you could feel burning holes in your neck.

“I.. I...” The man spluttered almost incoherently, rising to his feet and stumbling out from beside you. From behind you you heard Emma giggling coyly into her glass. “Sorry.” He mumbled quickly, his knees buckling when Tommy clapped a hand around his shoulder, holding him in place like a dog.

Tommy’s voice was still, almost too controlled, and you knew that his words were deadly. “If I see you around these parts again, I’ll put a fucking bullet in your skull.”

He gulped and nodded, darting into the sea of bodies in the crowd.

You kept your eyes low. Fumbling with the pearl clasps of your purse you squeezed Emma’s hand in parting and rose to your feet, wanting to leave as painlessly as possible, not even daring to look up at the face staring you down.

“I should go.” Was all you said, sliding out of the booth and onto the marbled floor. You saw the way the rest of the girls were watching the scene unfold before them, and you knew that by Monday you would have a lot of questions to answer, but right now you needed nothing but the safety of your flat.

You didn’t even let your shoulders brush against him. You coiled around him like a snake, your feet moving so fast your embroidered shoes were nothing but a blur of scarlet. You only made it to the hallway, he let you go far enough that you were in private before he reached for you, a familiar, large hand curving around the dip in your shoulder. You hated the way your body reacted, goosebumps rising to his touch unconsciously.

“(Y/N), wait.”

Your name on his tongue was sweeter than honey and richer than wine, it sounded so right that it hurt. It had been so long since you had heard him call you by your name, so long since he had spoken to you that your gut was twisting inside of you, your whole body aching for him to do nothing but repeat that word like a mantra.

You inhaled, thinking of a way out. It was too dangerous, you were playing with fire and you couldn’t get burnt, not again.

“I’m sorry — I didn’t know, it’s Jessica’s birthday and we - ” You hated how you stumbled over your words. You had never felt so uncomfortable around him and it made your skin crawl. You had kissed him under the stars, laughed with him in the corner of a private party, made love to him in every room of his fucking mansion, and now he felt like a stranger.

You knew what he looked like when he woke up, with his sleepy eyes and tousled hair. You knew what he looked like when had spent the night doing something unholy, you had cleaned his knuckles and kissed his wounds as you sat pressed up against him in the tub, his hands wrapped around your waist. You’d stood by his side, your hands intertwined in the middle of some expansive ballroom, and listened to him sweet-talk his way into a new business deal, all the while stroking his thumb over yours. You had seen him vulnerable, pulling you so close to his chest that it was like you were bound together, whispering to you how he loved you, how he couldn’t live without you.

But he still let you go.

He moved in front of you, leaving you with no choice but to meet his eyes. He looked good, but that was a given, he always did, no matter the circumstances. He looked so... soft. He always seemed that way around you, his eyes getting a little bit kinder, the harshness of his words dipped in sugar, even the sharpness of his jaw looked inviting and gentle, practically begging you to wrap your palm around it.

You bit your tongue. You were being ridiculous. You were seeing things that weren’t there. It was over between the two of you, he had made that very clear. You were grasping at straws and all it was going to do was hurt you.

He spoke suddenly, his thick accent cutting through the silence that felt so loud. “It’s alright. Only really been ours since last night, there were... problems with the last owners.”

Despite everything you felt the ghost of a smile tugging on the edge of your lips, immediately knowing what ‘problems’ he was referring to.

“Arthur?” You asked.

“Yes.” He said with a small grin. “Arthur.”

A moment passed. The air around you feeling all too hot and all to cold at once. It had been a long time since you had seen one another, and both of you were caught up in appreciating such familiar beauty up close. You had missed the small things about him, like the slight curl of his hair and the veins in his neck, you could remember running your lips across the curve and dip of his throat.

You were treading in dangerous waters. It wouldn’t be long until the current pulled you under, and you weren’t quite sure how much longer you could keep a rational mind. You inhaled, flittering your eyes to meet his in some kind of signal of parting, pulling your clutch tighter to your body as an attempt to keep yourself grounded. “I should go. It was good to see you, Tommy.”

You spun on your heel, heading for the large golden doors that led outside. Fresh air would clear your mind, the stars and the velvet night would be good for clearing out all of the junk rattling around in your skull, but you barely got two steps forward before he spoke, already knowing his next words before he even opened his mouth.

“Let me drive you home.”

He spoke so surely, addressing you the way he would one of his brothers or Johnny, as if he knew what was best for you. Once upon a time you would have believed that he did, let him grasp you by the wrists and drag you to the end of the world if he asked nicely, those fucking baby blues and pink lips dulling any warning sirens in your head.

Even now, after everything, you knew that he would never put you in danger, that he would always protect you. And it was with the knowledge of that striking your heart like lightning, you knew that you were still hopelessly, undoubtedly in love with him - not that you ever thought differently, but you had done a damned good job of pushing your feelings away.

“You’ve had a lot to drink,” He said, “and I wouldn’t even let you out on those fucking streets by yourself stone cold sober.”

You pursed your lips. “I’m not drunk, and you don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m driving you home.”

You looked up at him through your painted lashes, disarming him in a million different ways you didn’t even realise. You were oblivious to the fact that his breath felt trapped in his lungs.“You and I both know that’s not a good idea, Tommy.”

“Cmon. Get your things.”

You sidestepped away, pushing the bottom of your heel deeper into the champagne coloured carpet. “No Tommy, I’m not a child! I don’t need your help.”

He rolled his eyes, something akin to fond exasperation rising to his cheeks. You felt your heart drop and flutter like it was a sparrow inside of you, you had never thought you would see that face again, and it hurt how something so simple could twist and mould you in his hands like clay.

He pressed his hands to the small of your back, pushing you forward.

“I don’t care if you don’t want my help. I’m doing it anyway.”

You huffed. Too tired and drunk and confused to put up a real fight.“Fine.” He smiled coyly and his smug attitude made you click your teeth, running a hand through the curls in your hair, not stopping the childish retort on the edge of your tongue. “Prick.”

You felt his hand swat at you, dangerously close to the hem of your dress and you were certain that your cheeks were the same colour as the candles flickering on the tables below. It was such a playful, tender thing to do, and so horribly familiar - memories of his hands on you, pinching and teasing and digging in, a way of communicating without words, something so intimate and personal, something that only the two of you knew.

You wondered if he felt the same way. You wondered if he was reminded of the past, of peach moons and starlight kisses and strawberry lipstick, but as always he remained impassive, as poker faced as always as he strolled down the hall, pushing open the wide brass doors and waiting for you to pass through, him trailing behind you, like always.

———————————————————————

Through your hazy eyes the moon almost looked pink, like a spotlight shining down on you, illuminating the both of you as Tommy’s car purred down the streets, like a black cat stalking under the cover of darkness.

It smelt like him.

Like cigarettes and sin and mint and woodsmoke. You were reminded of driving at midnight with the windows down, his hand wrapped around your thigh, his eyes anywhere but the road. You thought of sticky skin and leather seats and the smell of sex, breathless little laughs and the feel of his teeth biting down on your top lip.

You stared at the polish on your fingernails, hoping for some kind of distraction from the man beside you. It wasn’t far to your flat, and you prayed that the drive home would be as hitch free as possible.

“Had a good night?” Tommy asked, looking over at you from behind the wheel. He’s not even sure what he’s saying, his usually mechanical brain almost short circuiting because you’re finally next to him again. Words and phrases seem tasteless and meaningless, but he wants to savour as much of you as he can. He knows it makes him hypocritical, especially given everything he’s put you through, but he’s never really been very conventional with his love.

“It was alright.”

“Friends from work?”

“Yeah. It was Jessica’s birthday, she wanted to get drunk, you know how it can be.”

“And that...that man - ?” He cleared his throat, hoping that his words came off breezier than they sounded in his head, pretending as if the thought of you with somebody else didn’t feel like a noose around his neck. “Who was he?”

“Just some stupid twat.”

Your words weren’t doing much to quell the fiery flicker of anger inside of him, half of his brain telling him to turn the car around and put a razor blade through the fuckers eye - but one glance over at your sleepy, beautiful face and all of his jealousy fades into mere smoke.

None of it matters.

Nothing will ever matter more than you.

“I shouldn’t have even been out tonight, but Emma practically dragged me.”

Emma. The name rings a bell. He flips through a mental picture book of everyone you’ve spoken about, and finally lands on the glamorous, dark skinned, velvet haired vixen that you called your best friend.

Memories come flooding back.

The nights you would spend with her when he was too busy with work. How in the darkness of his office with nothing but an empty feeling in his chest and glass of bourbon beside him, the phone would ring and cut through the silence.

He’d roll his eyes when Emma spoke quickly down the line, words slurred and filled with giggles as she would explain the drunken shenanigans you had both fallen into. He’d drive through the night and the dim city streets, his mind for once not filled with business deals or money, instead his heart tugging at the thought of his doe eyed, honey lipped girl waiting for him in the city.

“I think she had too much to drink.” Emma would say, clambering into a taxi cab she had managed to hail, teetering in her tall satin shoes. “I wanted to take her home with me, but she was causing such a big fuss and asking for you - couldn’t bloody say no.”

Outside the club his voice would be stern and his stare would be solid. Clipped, quick words to the doormen, feeling you press your cold nose into the base of his throat, mumbling something incoherent about how pretty he was. He’d scold you fondly. Settle you down in the back seats of his car and cover you up with his jacket, smiling ever so softly at the way you cuddled into the warmth and the familiar smell.

He thought of how lonely his nights had been without you.

“How is she?”

“Fine. Everyone is just fine.”

But how are you? He wants to ask, but he has a feeling that no matter the answer he’ll still end with a bullet in his gut, so he lets the silence engulf the both of you, nothing in the air but unspoken tension and the soft purr of the engine.

He had an idea. Something conniving and crafty, something that he’s been wanting to do since the night he told you that it wasn’t safe to be with him, the night he told you to leave. Thomas Shelby has always been a strong, level headed man, but something about you just makes him crumble. You have a way of twisting around him, snaking around his thoughts and feelings like a vine, and he gives himself up wholly.

He would never put you in a position you were uncomfortable with, but he can’t help the claw in his gut when he thinks of how long it’s been since you’ve been apart. He can smell the sweet liquor and perfume on you, can see the way your eyes are glossed ever and your hair is mussed. You’re tired, and after the way that goddamn leech of a man had been fawning over you Tommy is in no mood to leave you alone, he likes knowing that you’re safe, it’s the only thing that makes him able to sleep at night.

He glanced over to you, watching as you yawned into your palm, your soft, pretty eyes looking at the stars and the moon and his decision was made for him.

“You missed the turn.” You said a few moments later, perking up a little in your seat.

“Hmm?”

“You missed it. You should have turned left back there.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you’re pretty sure you know the reason why. Despite the part of your body that is sparked like a match at the thought of spending the night with him, you also know that it is too dangerous, that the two of you together are fire and gasoline.

“No. No, Tommy. I’m not staying over with you.”

“Yes you are. You can stay in a guest room - it’ll give you time to sleep off that hangover.”

“I’m hardly drunk.”

“Well, when we get home you can walk in a straight line for me, eh?”

“It’s not my home.”

That hurt.

He ignored you, feeling the familiar bite of irritation, hating that he wasn’t the same man to you that he once was. He could feel his tone getting desperate, and under any other circumstance he would be furious at being so weak, but never around you. “Just stay. Tonight? For me. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not getting into any trouble.”

“Tommy Shelby never sleeps.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, sighing in defeat. Tommy smiled, and realised as the car lurched over the bridge that’ll take you back where you both belong that he’s the happiest he has been in a long time.

—————————————————————

His house was as intimidating as ever, even more so under the thick blanket of the night. The architecture looked gothic, the sprawling roof and high chimneys almost seeming menacing as the car pulled up along the gravel, the low sound of the rocks crackling like a fire.

It almost felt strange. A house you had stepped foot in hundreds of times, suddenly feeling unfamiliar and mystifying. It was like the very first time you had seen the house a few years ago, how the large rooms and the tall ceilings seemed empty and dangerous, as though they housed a million secrets.

But since then it had been full of so much light. You had danced with him playfully, barefoot on the kitchen floor, with the windows open and soft jazz flittering in the air like sunlight. You had slept on the sofa in the drawing room, tangled up against his bare chest, the room littered with wine stained glasses and cigarette burns. You had laughed until you had cried, kissed him on the vivaciously on the mouth, sat through dozens of rowdy family dinners, shared coffee and pastry under the sleepy morning light - and now it felt as though a million years had passed.

You let him lead you inside. Keeping a safe distance and a wary eye as though he was an unpredictable stray dog that needed to be kept at arms length. He sensed your suspicion and ignored it, marching forward like a solider, pretending that your distrust didn’t make him feel awful. He hated to think of you on edge because of him, he hated how small it made him feel. He never wanted to be insignificant to you.

You noticed how bare it was in the hallway. Once upon a time the coat rack would have been filled with your furs and shawls, your pastel pink boots and his forever charcoal posh oxfords lined next to one another, a poignant reminder of their owners and the differences that you both shared.

It wasn’t just lack of your belongings, somehow the house seemed much emptier. It didn’t smell as worn as it usually did, the warmth of a recently lit fire didn’t dwell in the air and there were no keys or shoes by the front door. You knew that Mary kept a clean house, but this was something different, and a sour thought suddenly hit you.

“You haven’t been home much?” You tried to keep the jealousy out of your voice and remain level headed, but it was proving hard when you were feeling so nauseous at the thought of him sharing a bed with somebody else.

“Lot of late nights at the office.” He shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and wrapped it around a hanger, his icy blue eyes catching yours. “Home didn’t feel like home anymore.”

You didn’t miss the implication in his words, but you chose to ignore it.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“I thought I was here to sleep.”

“You are. But what kind of host would I be if I didn’t offer my guest a nightcap?”

You made a noise. Something halfway between a scoff and a huff.

“Tea? Whiskey?”

“No, I’m fine thank you.”

“What about hot chocolate? I still have some of that god awful strawberry stuff you love so much.”

Memories of sickly sweet strawberry kisses flash in your head. Images of Tommy wincing and groaning as if you had poisoned him. Belly laughs and pillow talk. All things you had tried so hard to forget.

“No. I don’t drink that anymore.”

He looked at you. There were no diamond chandeliers or dark corners or red velvet walls distorting your appearance, just the two of you stood opposite in the hallway of his mansion. He looked you up and down, not in a sleazy way, like the man at the bar who had so desperately wanted to get his hands under your dress but almost - longingly. There was something in his eyes. Swimming right in those ocean eyes was something you couldn’t quite make out, he opened his mouth to say something but before he could speak you heard the whine of the door above you.

“Mr Shelby! You’re back.” It was Mary, stood at the top of the stairs. Still dressed in her maids uniform despite the ungodly hour, she looked as pristine as ever, and you couldn’t think of a time you had seen the elderly woman without makeup on. She flew down the stairs, eager to offer Thomas anything she could, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she finally saw you.

“Miss (Y/L/N)!” She said, trying to control the shock in her voice. She hadn’t been there the day that you left, but it wouldn’t take a fool to guess what had happened between you and her boss. Just like you, she probably assumed you would never return to the Shelby house. After a moment she smiled kindly, regaining her composure after the initial shock. “It’s a pleasure to see you once again.”

“And you, Mary.”

“Oh! Mr Shelby I’ve made up your quarters and -” she stopped, realising what she was saying and she awkwardly shifted as she tried to change the subject. “Can I get you anything? Shall I bring you some tea? Or some wine?”

“Oh no. I’m fine thank you, really.”

“You know what Mary,” You heard Tommy say, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “Can you fix us some drinks? Whatever’s in the cupboards is fine. Oh, and bring us those chocolates Ada brought from New York. We’ll be in the sitting room.”

“Tommy - ” You started, but he was already gone, walking through his house with renewed energy, and you strained your ears to hear the sentences he called out over his shoulder.

“One drink. For old times sake.”

“Ugh. You’ll be the death of me, Shelby.”

———————————————————————

It should have been awkward. It should have been awkward and uncomfortable and painful - but it wasn’t.

He lit a fire, something about the yellow flames and the crackling wood soothing you like warm milk. You missed the feel of his sofas, the ones that cost such an outrageous price that it made your eyes water, and you sunk into the cushions far more easily than you liked. Mary had made your favourite drink, and the situation felt so familiar that it was ridiculous, but it was more ridiculous how good everything felt.

He was as charming as ever. Giving you those side eye glances and cheeky smiles as he spoke, asking about your family and telling you stories of the trouble his brothers had been in. He moved around the room in a blur of navy, because as God would have it tonight of all nights he was wearing your favourite blue suit, the one that made him look so beautiful and powerful.

He didn’t ask about work, and you were glad, because you weren’t ready to tell him yet.

Perhaps an hour passed, the two of you dancing around each other, neither one wanting to be the one that crossed the line first. Your mind was blurry but you knew that this had gone on too long, you needed to pull the plug before it was too late, but as always, Tommy got there first.

“It feels like fate.” He said, his voice so much warmer than it had been a few moments before.

“What does?”

“Running into you tonight.”

You scoffed. “Please. Tommy Shelby doesn’t believe in fate.”

“I didn’t. Not until I met you.”

Your whole body felt like it had been set alight. He knew just what to say to get you to curl around his little finger. He was watching you intently, moving forward so his elbows were on his knees, as though he was desperate to hear your reply. He was being honest, more so than he had been in a long time, but your mind was too filled with the past to give into his sweet words.

“So,” You said, knocking back the last dregs of your drink. “Are you just going to pretend it never happened?”

“What?”

“Cut the crap, Tommy.” You snarked. “You know what I mean.” A breathless laugh. “God, this is ridiculous. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Don’t say that.”

You rubbed your forehead, massaging away a migraine you could feel brewing. “I need to go to bed. I don’t want to get into all of this again.”

“(Y/N) - ”

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

You stood up and heard the sound of his glass of whisky hitting his red oak table. Your fingers touched the edge of the door handle, but he was pulling you backwards before you could leave. You were facing him, trying to keep your eyes away from his, not wanting to go falling into him the way your body desired.

“You might not want to talk but you can listen.” He said, so close to you that your noses were almost touching. You pursed your lips and squirmed like a child, but he raised an eyebrow and you huffed, letting him speak, his words shattering you like you were a sheet of ice.“Im still in love you.”

You bit your lip to stop from crying. The scab had been picked off, blood clotting down your ankles and onto the floor.

“Think I will be till the day I die. Even after.”

His words were so sincere and you wanted to believe them. You could feel him watching you, cornering you, willing you to say the words back, needing to hear the words fall from your lips.

You held up one finger, trying to stop him from speaking. “Don’t.”

“It’s true.”

You could feel the hot prickle of tears forming in your eyes, and the way your throat constricted like you’d been swallowing cotton balls.“Was this the plan all along? Invite me back, get me drunk and think I’ll crawl back into bed with you after you tell me a few lines?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I would never do that to you.”

He was angry. More so with himself, he’s always been in control, so articulate and calculated, but he was losing his grip on you, his knuckles turning white. He knew he made a mistake that night when he told you to leave, but his pride was too strong to do anything about it. Seeing you tonight had been more than just a coincidence, he knew that, and everything in him was screaming at him to fight for you.

“I miss you.” It ached for him to say it out loud, such a powerful man admitting that you were his weakness, that you bring him to his knees like he’s a child.

“I miss you too, Tommy, you know I do. But - ”

“I fucked up.”

“Tom.”

“I never should have let you leave.”

“We - Us - It’ll never - ” You couldn’t think let alone speak, all of your words twisting and tumbling from your mouth like loose marbles.

“We were a lot of things, but you can’t tell me that we aren’t supposed to be together.”

“I don’t want to talk about this... I can’t!”

“So let’s not talk.”

His lips met yours and you were on fire. The breath you didn’t know you were holding was knocked out of you by the force of his body on yours. His hands were all over you, checking you were real, feeling the curve and dip of your body the way his mind had conjured up in the dark in the months that you had been gone, he savoured you entirely, he devoured you.

“This isn’t - This isn’t right.” It was lie. Nothing felt more right. Your whole body ached and quivered for him, you wanted to breathe in his smell and run your fingers through his hair until they bled, but you also didn’t want to go down without a fight.

He knew you too well though.

“Stop it.” He had you backed up against the wall, his body pressed in between your thighs. He’d caged you in, one hand curling softly under your jaw, manipulating you so that you had no choice but to look right into his damn sea foam eyes. “Stop being so stubborn.”

“Stop being such a prick then.”

Lips on your neck. His hands all over you. Inhaling your perfume and the smell of your hair, digging his fingertips into your hip, a jolt of pain that you knew would leave a bruise. He captured your lips again, relishing in the way you felt under him, he was desperate for more, and he smiled cheekily when he heard you moan.

“I thought you wanted to go to sleep.” He teased, his voice was playful but he was struggling to keep his composure, he felt like his head was being held underwater, the pleasure teetering on pain.

“I hate you.” You said, gasping for air, feeling adrenaline and liquor and lust flow through you.

“No you don’t.”

You bit down on his plump bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. He winced slightly, and rolled his eyes, shoving you backwards into his bookcase, kissing you even harder. A few novels and a porcelain figurine fell to the floor, the small black horse shattering at your feet. He grumbled slightly, and you giggled into his neck. You bent down to try and collect the broken pieces but he swatted your hand away, kissing and sucking all across your neck and throat, wanting to mark his territory.

“Stop that. I don’t want you cutting yourself.” He muttered into your flesh, clasping your hands together and holding you by the wrists, refusing to let you do anything but melt into him - not that there was anything in the world you would rather be doing.

Slowly the kisses got softer, more tender, all across your collar and shoulders like raindrops. There was something methodical about it, almost poetic, like he was trying to savour the taste of your skin, and the way your body rippled under him. After a moment he stopped, his hands tangling into your hair, gripping you by your jaw, looking into your glossed out, wide eyes.

“I really fucking missed you. I’m sorry.”

You shuddered. “I know.”

“Tomorrow we’ll talk. Alright?” There are a million things he needed to say. A million things he needed you to know, but there was nothing more important to him at that moment than having you under him, letting his body show you all of the things he couldn't put into words. He needed you, all of you. His head was fucked and he needed the wash of calm you gave him, he needed to feel whole, the way that only you could make him.

“Tomorrow.” You whispered.

He nodded solemnly. Ducking his head and pressing your mouths together, hot and raw and heavy. You were sweeter than sugar, stronger than whisky and prettier than all of the stars in the sky, and he struggled to keep himself from buckling at the knees under your touch. The only thing that could stop him from moulding your bodies together were the sweet little words that left your lips, the ones that rang like a gospel in his ears.

“Take me to bed, Tommy.”

————————————————————

He broke it off three months prior.

You had been missing each other, your schedules hectic and mismatched, and it had been a good few weeks since you had spoken for more than a few stolen seconds over the telephone. Finally, like the sun parting through rain clouds, there was one weekend that was empty in both of your diaries and Tommy told you to expect a car outside of your flat one Friday afternoon.

A whole weekend. Two days and three nights spent with your beloved, it should have been a time filled with late nights and rumpled bedsheets, coffee in the morning and wearing nothing but his linen shirts and the pretty lilac underwear he loved so much - but it turned soon turned sour.

On Sunday you had been making rhubarb pie. Folding and rolling the pastry between your fingertips, listening to the birds whistling through the open window and the lull of soft jazz from the radio behind you.

He had taken a call. A sullen look falling over his face as soon as he answered the phone. He had shut himself in his study, and all you could hear was the deep rumble of his voice and the sound of his footsteps, and so you left him alone, and busied yourself with other things.

It had all been so wonderful. Riding his horses through the fields, reading books under his arm as he rifled through papers, stealing kisses that tasted like hard candies and peppermint. You'd forced him to relax, made him take a bubble bath with you, poured lavender and vanilla oil across his aching shoulders until he let out an involuntary moan, ran your fingers through his hair until his breath evened out and his eyes fluttered shut, finally feeling at peace next to the woman he loved.

You’d laughed and made love and kissed and danced and it had all be so perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

For 48 hours he had been yours. He wasn’t “Thomas Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders,” he had been your Tommy. You weren’t a fool, you knew that work was always the most important thing to him, that he lived and breathed for the company he had built from his two bare hands, his work ethic and brilliance was something you admired about him, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t sting when he slipped back into business mode.

It had been about an hour, and you were cleaning the counters, something soothing about finding the dark marble granite under the mess of flour. You knew that Mary would have a fit if she knew you were cleaning, but you enjoyed the normalcy it gave you. You heard him before you saw him, the sound of his matte leather brogues on the tile in the hallway, and you lifted your head when you felt his presence in the doorway.

“You need to leave.”

His tone was so sudden and blunt that it almost made you laugh, but one look at the sallowness of his skin and the intensity in his eyes made you straighten up. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Sabini.”

“What about him?”

“He knows - he fucking knows.”

He was being uncharacteristically agitated, and it sent a deep chill down your spine. You lurched forward, hands spread, wanting to carry some of his worry. “Knows what? Tommy, calm down.”

“He’s had men lurking outside your flat.”

“What?”

“One of the new boys spotted ‘em. Fucking filth have been there all weekend.”

You felt your heart sink to your stomach. Truthfully, whilst the thought of Sabini and his men watching you made your skin crawl, you were more worried by the way it seemed to have frazzled Tommy. You weren’t used to seeing him so... anxious, and that sent red hot warning signs to your brain.

Your relationship had never been a secret per se, but you never made it public. After a few months of rendezvous in hotels and bars up and down the country, and Tommy realising his feelings for you were much more than just lust - he laid everything out bare. He told you he wanted you. But he also told you what the consequences of hanging off his arm were. You knew the risks, knew what chaos his love could bring, but you were falling so deeply that none of it mattered to you. You weren’t stupid, and Tommy did everything in his power to keep you safe, and the two of you found a mellow middle ground, a place where you could be happy and young and in love, without all of the mayhem.

“Well - it’s alright. I’m here. I’m safe aren’t I? He was probably just scoping the place out, he probably thought you were there and - ”

You were rambling, and most of what you were saying was untrue. You both knew the reason that Sabini was there, it was a message, a warning. A threat to Tommy that he could take away his weakness with one snap of his slimy little fingers.

You shrugged off your apron, and stepped towards him, shaking your head. “We knew that one day this would happen. That people would find out, it’s not your fault Tom.”

“We were stupid. We were reckless.”

“And what? We were supposed to just stop living our lives in case somebody saw us?”

“Not just somebody. Somebody who could fucking kill you.”

“Tommy.”

“You need to leave.”

“Listen to me -”

“I’ll get Bernard to drive you to the station. Your friend...” He paused momentarily, trying to remember a name he had heard in passing. “Sarah? She still lives in Manchester doesn’t she? You’ll stay with her till I’ve sorted this out.”

You scoffed, your eyes the size of dinner plates.“I’m not leaving.” You tried to make him see sense, but you were having a hard time keeping your voice levelled. “I’ve got work, Tom. I can’t just up and leave.”

He ignored you. You could see his brain whirring a mile a minute, the wheels inside his mind frantically looking for a solution. You marched over to him, forcing him to look at you. “I’m not scared.”

“Well then you’re a fool.”

“Am I? For not running at the first sign of danger?”

“Don’t fucking start with me. Not about this. This isn’t some fucking game.”

“I never said it was, Tom. But what? I’m supposed to hide out in another fucking city until all of this settles down.”

“Stop being so fucking difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult. I know what I signed up for, we both did. We knew this would happen eventually.”

“And now that is has - we have to be smart.”

“Not everything in life is a business deal.”

“What would you know about that?”

It was a low blow. Something that struck you like a winning punch to the gut, you stepped back from the impact, shaking your head and pursing your lips. You’ll let him brew in his anger, let him get worked up and pissed off, and you’ll wait for his apology in a few days, something expensive and designer showing up at your front door, his way of saying “I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

“You know what? I’m leaving. Call me in a few days when you get your head fucking screwed back on. We can talk then.”

“No.”

It came out strangled, like the word sliced the inside of his throat when he said it.

“What?”

“You need to stay away. We need to end this.”

“End this?” You scoffed. “What? Like we’re just a business deal?”

“It’s not safe, and I can’t do anything that’s going to jeopardise the company.”

“The fucking company?” You were furious, your body stinging with hurt, feeling betrayal wash over you like sour milk. “How - How dare you!”

“I think it’s best if we spend some time apart.”

“So this is it then? You’ll throw away everything just because some fucking man has been looking around corners?” His silence made you more enraged, and you willed him to fight back. Fight for you. “Do you want me to leave? Do you want me to go, Tom?”

Silence.

And then - “It’s not safe.”

“Fuck you.”

That was the last thing you had said to him. Three words replaced with two that shattered around the room like an earthquake. You had tears in your eyes, and you rushed upstairs to pack your things, your heart breaking into sharp little pieces inside of you. He could hear the start of your sobs, the ones you tried so hard to muffle with your hand and he truly fucking hated himself. He gripped the marble above the fireplace and steadied his breathing, pushing out any thoughts of the weekend. He willed himself to shove away the happy memories, the sound of your laugh and the smell of your skin, the way he didn’t hear the shovels when you were beside him, safe and warm in his arms.

He needed to do what he did best, regain control and protect those he cared about, and right at the fucking top of the list was you. Any niggles of rationality and guilt telling him that pushing you away was wrong quickly turned to ash in his mind, he was certain that this was the right thing to do, despite the way that it really fucking hurt. He had to keep you safe. Men like him didn’t get to have nice things like you.

So he shut the door to his office, muffling the sound of you rummaging around upstairs, a part of you wishing and hoping that he would open the door and kiss you and apologise, and instead he picked up the phone, and went back to work.

———————————————————————

You woke up to sunlight painting your skin, and an empty bed, the silk sheets in disarray and bundled beside your bare body.

Oh fuck.

Like an ice cold bucket of water dropping over your head, you remembered every detail of what had happened overnight. Your skin relived the feeling of hands and fingertips and oh god, tongue dragging all across you, branded into your memory like a burn. It was the best nights sleep you had gotten in a long time, and the bed was so warm and soft and smelling like sin that you struggled to even lift your head from the pillow to check the time.

Mid morning.

You hadn’t slept in this long for a while, and you knew the reason why. Head slightly pounding from too much alcohol and adrenaline, you crawled out of bed, washing the remnants of last nights makeup from your face and pulling on your crumpled dress and stockings that had been haphazardly flung over the furniture. Your heart lurched a little when you freshened up in the bathroom and noticed your toothbrush still in the holder on the sink, right next to his.

You could hear cluttering downstairs and followed the noise, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, unable to stop the small smile that the sight gave you. He had evidently sent Mary on an errand, something far away so he could make you both breakfast in peace, away from prying eyes. He looked so boyish, so domestic, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, nimble fingers turning the bacon on the pan, his hair mussed from sex and sleep. It made you feel like you had swallowed a match. Your whole body alight from seeing him so gentle and vulnerable, so bare for just you to see.

Thomas Shelby whisking eggs and squeezing oranges, barefoot in his own kitchen, the sight rarer than a unicorn, and you were the only person who ever got close enough.

“Hi.” It left your mouth awkwardly and rolled off your tongue like an ice cube.

“Morning.” He turned and smiled, his lazy eyes trawling the length of your body. You hadn’t noticed it, but he felt a flicker of hurt that you were in your own clothes, a part of him wanting and hoping that you would be in one of his shirts, something that he loved much more than he could comprehend. He shook his head, willing the thoughts away. “It’ll be done soon. I think I’ve burnt the toast though, and probably added too much salt to the eggs.”

You smiled thinly, the light not reaching your eyes. This was all too much, all too soon. He was here and he was beautiful and you were right at the frontline, ready to get your heart broken all over again.“Last night,” You cleared your throat, as though the words were lodged deep inside. “It was a mistake.”

He didn’t blink, cool stare focused on the meal he was preparing, long fingers methodically slicing and dicing, as though your words didn’t make his heart thump against his rib cage. He didn’t like it, not one bit, the way that it sounded as though you regretted the time you had spent together. He never wanted you to feel like that, like the intimacy you had shared was something crude, as though you were a one night stand of a drunken fuck at a bar, this was so much more than that. This was love.

But Tommy liked holding his cards to his chest, and it was much easier to tease you then tell the truth.

“It didn’t feel like a mistake. You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

You scoffed, hating his cockiness yet knowing that he was obviously right. “Don’t be a twat, Tommy.”

The ghost of a smile on his face, if you had blinked you might have missed it, but you were always the best person at reading him - the only person he had let close enough to see him, flaws and all. He always liked when you bickered with him, his little firecracker. He didn’t tolerate just anyone speaking to him the way you did, but he would let you get away with bloody murder and he couldn’t deny that it didn’t bring a flush to his cheeks when you got particularly feisty.

You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off, his hands full with cutlery and plates filled with slap up breakfast foods, and you couldn’t deny that your mouth was watering.

“Eat first. We’ll talk later.”

You let out a sound halfway between a huff and a groan but caved in, clambering into the seat he had pulled open for you and piling your fork high. He watched you with a smile, the way you looked so young and pretty and angelic in the morning light, no makeup on and eyes still drowsy with sleep, like some kind of Renaissance painting he wanted to hang above his fireplace and stare at whenever things got rough.

He filled the silence with small talk, noting the weather and a story about one of John’s kids hiding a puppy in her room for almost a week without anyone noticing. You listened as best as you could, but you were distracted by the palomino mare you could see grazing in the fields behind his house, and something was prickling at your skin like brambles.

You cleared your throat, acting as nonchalant as you could muster. “Emma tells me that May Carlton is training your new mare.” Your knife sliced through your yolk, rich butter yellow bleeding across your plate. You tried to keep your voice steady, but you could feel the thickness in your throat as you remembered how it hurt like a bullet wound when your best friend had told you of his new associate. “I hear she is quite beautiful.”

“Yes, I suppose she is.” He murmured, cutting the edge of fat from his bacon. “But she’s nothing compared to you.”

You tried to pretend that his words didn’t make you swoon, and he tried to hide how much he loved it when you got jealous, something about the fire in your eyes making him want to push you up against a wall and kiss you till you couldn’t talk.

He paused, a coy smile on his lips. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?”

You scoffed. “Well, it’s only fair. What with all those Blinders following me. Can’t even go to the bloody shops without one watching me.”

So you had noticed. He had half been expecting a blazing call where you yelled at him for having men watch over you, and it had left a hole of disappointment in his gut when it never came.

“You know I would never let you be unprotected.”

“I know.”

Your eyes met, a wave of warm affection washed over the both of you, but you pulled your gaze back quickly, focusing your attention anywhere else.

“You should come and watch her.”

You froze, wondering if Tommy had just invited you to spend the day with May Carlton, you were sure that would be one evening that would end in blood and tears.

“The mare.” He said, picking up at your uncomfortableness and biting back a smile. “We’ve called her ‘Wicked Gypsy’, and she is brilliant. I reckon she could win the whole bloody thing.”

You liked how passionate he got when he talked about horses. Liked the way that he seemed to light up like a child, despite all the finery and bravado, you liked knowing that the little boy inside of him was still there, hidden deep, deep down, but still there. You were too busy being captivated by him that it took you a moment to realise that he had asked you to join him at the races.

You wanted nothing more, you truly wanted nothing more than to be his girl again. Cradled under his arm, dressed in lace and fur, his lips pressed to the heat of your throat, sweet little words whispered in your ear, a hand tight and possessive around your waist - but it just wasn’t that easy.

You sighed, crossing your cutlery. “Tom. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I want you there. I need my good luck charm.”

“Tommy, after everything. I don’t think we should.”

Firmer now, he looks at you, emphasising his point.“I need you there. When she wins, I need my best girl to be right by my side.”

He was so slippery. So sickly sweet that you could drown in him, struggle to move in the molasses that dripped from his tongue. He was dangerous, carnal fire and sin, but he wasn’t lying, he needed you, really fucking needed you.

You exhaled, thinking things through, and massaging the migraine brewing in your temples. He could see you trying to think of an excuse, another lie about how you’re bad for each other, but he got there first, not wanting to hear it.

“I’ll have a car pick you up on Friday.” He turned his hands so his palms were facing the ceiling, eyebrows raised playfully, “Or... maybe you can stay here the night. You know you’re welcome.”

Always so bloody charming. But you can’t stop the tsunami of thoughts, the mistakes of the past. “What is this, Tommy? What are we doing?”

“I fucked up. I never should have let you go.”

“But you did. And - I don’t want to get hurt all over again.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“You always do.”

You words stung him worse than if you had slapped him across the face, and he had to take a moment to swallow the sour taste that had been swimming across his tongue. He reached his hands out, clasping them with yours, so large and warm and safe, and he spoke with intensity.

“Just - Come with me, Friday. Please. I can’t do this without you.”

Friday. Suddenly it was no longer about slipping up or falling back in love and wondering what your friends might think when you told them, it was about something else that you needed to tell him.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Leaving where?” His tone was one of disbelief, his eyes sizing you up, wondering if this was some kind of elaborate excuse.

You sighed, taking your hands away from under his, noticing the lack of warmth immediately. “To Oxford. Peggy transferred me to the company over there.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because I asked her to.”

“You did what?”

You could see him thinking, wondering how none of his boys had found out this priceless piece of information that makes him want to throw his expensive fucking china at the wall.

“I did it all through work. Emma’s the only one who knew. I’m getting the train Wednesday night.”

He stood up so quickly his chair squealed across the wood floor, his mouth agape. “So what? You’re just going to leave?”

“There’s nothing here for me.”

He pointed one finger at you, scolding you like a child. “Don’t say that.”

You narrowed your eyes, shaking your head. “It’s true isn’t it? Why should I waste more time on this stupid cat and mouse game?”

“Is that all this is to you? A game?”

“You left me. For three months I was completely alone! What happens when something comes up, huh? How do I know that you won’t leave me all over again?” It was hard to keep the emotion from your voice, hard not to show just how badly the impact of those three months had been. “We need this! Some...some fucking space. Maybe being a few cities away will be good.”

It was a lie. Nothing sounded worse, but you had to say your piece because god knows you can’t keep holding everything in.

His voice was frayed, split like the hairs in an old rope. “Don’t. Don’t give me space. That’s the last thing I want from you.”

His words and his actions never lined up, and it made your blood boil. All of the anger you had turned into tears had remoulded into red hot rage, and you slammed your hands down on his expensive counter tops, flesh on marble ringing around the kitchen. “So then why did you let me go? Why did you tell me to leave?”

“Because I thought that was best for you!”

“You aren’t the one who gets to decide that!”

“Everything I do. Everything I fucking do - is to protect you.”

“Don’t say that. Protecting me isn’t making me leave, and then not speaking to me for three fucking months.”

You could see the click in his jaw, the vein in his throat throbbing. “You knew what you signed up for when you met me.”

“No, actually, I don’t think I did.”

It was true. You expected late nights, days of no contact, blood staining your bathroom counter and men watching your every move. You expected fights and make ups, going to the races in your finery and then walking down the shit filled streets of Small Heath, but you never expected that he would just leave you the way he did.

He was breathless, trying to control the rise and fall of his chest and the way that his fingers clenched. He never thought that you would leave, he had some fucked up feeling that you would always come back to him, that the two of you would always end up on the same ship, drifting along the same ocean. It was maddening. He had tasted you once again, had you under him, his girl reduced to putty in his hands. It had all made sense, the night seemed to be sweeter and the stars a little brighter and his lungs a little looser when you were next to him. It had all felt so right, and now you were going to leave.

He put it down to exasperation at not being in control anymore, the fact that he was watching you slip between his fingers once again like grains of sand, and so he said the worst thing he thought of, something that he knew would rip through you like a shot to the heart.

“Well at least I got one last fuck eh? That was all you were really any good for anyway.”

He could hear it immediately, the sound of the bullet leaving the gun, or perhaps that’s your heart shattering in two. He regretted it, he regretted it so badly that he wished he could pull the words back down his throat and swallow them like they were poison.

Your eyes watered but you didn’t let him see you cry. Your mouth opened and then closed not wanting to waste your breath on a reply, not wanting to hurt him the way he’d hurt you. You didn’t bother with a reply, not trusting yourself enough to talk, only wanting to be alone to like your wounds in peace. So you turned and left, last nights heels echoing through the hallway, the sound of the front door creaking open and slamming shut, silence falling once again.

Tommy pushed the plates off the table.

—————————————————————————-

Wednesday night and you were listening to your favourite record, something to distract you from the suitcase you were packing. Since the fight you hadn’t heard from Tommy, the first thing you’d packed had been your phone, pulling it off the wall as soon as you got home, not wanting to be on edge waiting for his call.

You didn’t allow yourself the time to wallow, refused to let yourself be beaten up by the words he had said, the ones that hung around your head like dead files. You hated that you let him speak to you that way, and you also hated that you missed him with every bone in your body.

Lilac, sapphire and emerald green. You threw your clothes together, watching the colours fade into a blur. You hadn’t packed anything he had given you, but you didn’t want to throw them out either and so they sat in a lonely purgatory in your wardrobe; a little gift to the next tenant.

You knew who was there the second the doorbell rang. Well, rang three times. The sound so shrill and violent that you tipped your head back in frustration. You considered leaving him outside in the summer rain, but soon the rings were switched with incessant knocking, your door surely about to break from the weight of his fists.

“Fucking hell.” You seethed, dropping your shoes onto the floor and stepping over the piles of toiletries stacked in the hallway. “Fuck you, Tom.”

You wanted to say those three words to him as soon as you opened the door, hoping your eyes reflected the anger bubbling inside of you, but he cut you off with a sigh of relief.

“Thank fuck you’re still here.”

“Not for long.”

You tried to shut the door, you really did, but he pushed past and into your flat with little effort.

“Get out, Tom. Now.”

He spun round to face you, and you finally got a good look at him. He looked rough, frazzled almost. His hair messy and his shirt ruffled and his eyes were mostly white, frantically watching your face.

“I fucked up. I fucked everything up.”

“You came all this way just to tell me that?”

“I should have followed you sooner. I should have followed you the second you walked through that door.”

You quirked an eyebrow in challenge. “Which time?”

He spread his hands out, biting down on his tongue. “Don’t go. Don’t leave.”

You sighed, kicking a stray shampoo bottle with your feet, something to fill the emptiness that surrounded you. “I’ve made up my mind.”

He moved one step closer and you moved one step back. “Is this what you really want?”

“We can’t always get what we want.”

“That’s bullshit.”

You threw your hands up in despair. “I’m not doing this with you now, Tommy. My train leaves in an hour and I have my first day tomorrow and I don’t want to fuck it all up.”

“If it’s what you really want, then you should go. But don’t leave if it’s all because of me.”

You scoffed. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself.”

“And I’m not going to let you go without telling you that I love you. I really fucking love you.”

“Tommy.” It’s a warning. It’s a threat. But it hangs between you both, lingering in the air like smoke.

“I know you love me too. I know you do. I also know that I’m a massive twat who fucked everything up, but I’m not letting you get away, not again.”

You're exasperated. His words like honey, but you’re scared that that’s all they are, and you’re more scared that they might be so much more. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because I’m telling the truth. I don’t care about anything. Nothing matters to me more than you. I don’t care if Sabini has men outside my house every fucking night, you’re only safe with me, and I can only do this with you by my side.”

“Talk is cheap.”

“If I have to spend every day proving how much you mean to me then I will. I can’t - I can’t be without you.”

He was so close to you. Your noses almost touching, the hair on your arms and your spine sticking up, something electric about him. You want to hate him but you can’t. Not when he’s standing in your dimly lit hallway, looking dishevelled and beautiful and dare you say, broken. The edge of his jawline caught the light, shimmering like a jewel, and the pools in his eyes were so sincere and so deeply blue that you wanted to fall right into them.

Were you going to do this? Were you going to let him in again? You thought of everything - rain splattered kisses, dancing under the pale moonlight, sour whisky in the corner of his office. You thought of all of the chaos, all of the blood, all of the family arguments and shouting that echoed around his manor. You thought of all the tears you had shed, all the times your throat had been raw and your heart shattered into pieces. You thought of strawberry fields and his hand in yours, laughing with his brothers until you couldn’t breathe, the way that he felt and smelt and spoke like home.

It had been bad, but it was also the best thing you had ever been a part of.

You sighed loudly, clicking your tongue, meeting him somewhere in the middle. “Fuck. I’m never going to get my deposit back.”

His whole body trembled, relief coming from every pore, and he made a vow to go to Church with Pol on Sunday and thank whoever was listening for getting you back. “Well you’re moving in with me so there’s nothing to worry about.”

You rolled your eyes, his large hands wrapping around your jaw, making you look at him. He smelt like woodsmoke and peppermint, like a million bad decisions and the tang of a smoking barrel. It took everything in you to not buckle at the knees and let him carry you like a child.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He cradled your face, hoping his words came off as strongly out loud as they did in his head. He’s not going to fuck up again, but even he can’t stop his brain from short circuiting at the sight of you, so pretty with your doe eyes and raspberry lips, the skin on your throat just begging for the tug of his teeth.

You buried your head in his chest when he pulled you close, your words muffled through the cotton of his shirt. “If you ever speak to me like that again I’ll rip your fucking balls off.”

A soft smile, one that washes over him like warm candlelight. “I know.”

He’s not letting you go, not again. You’re a fucking part of him, like the blood that runs through his veins and the steady thump of his chest, you’re a part of his body, the reason why he can breathe and run and love. You’re the thing that stops the tremor in his hands, the thing that makes him so unshakeable, so tough and in control.

He had something to fight for.

And only knowing that you’re by his side, safe and warm and pressed into the crook of his body, does he finally allow himself to exhale.

#tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby oneshot #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders oneshot #orion writes

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kkaeyva · 3 years

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Hii, congrats on 100 followers! ☺💖 Your writing deserves so many more for sure ^^

Could I possibly request a match up? i go by Ai online, She/Her pronouns, bisexuality, slightly male leaning but the girls of genshin are BEAUTIFUL <33 I'm an Aquarius and INTP

Personality wise, I'm pretty quiet, even when people get to know me, im just not overly chatty, I sometimes ramble when im talking about stuff I love but I'm overly self aware of speaking too much. I have a super dry sense of humour and sarcasm and one liners are my type of humour for sure! It can sometimes come across the wrong way though

I keep a smaller friendship circle just im really bad at keeping up with everything, so I unintentionally ghost people for days just bc I forget I have messages haha

I really enjoy learning new languages, something about it us SUPER interesting to me. Another hobby of mine is gaming, I try not to be competitive but uh, it seems I definitely have a competitive streak.

My other main hobby is fashion, I dont really stick to a particular style, but I love trying different looks and styles to see what I enjoy, and learning about other fashion subculture that im not as familiar with like lolita etc ^^ I do have a problem of picking up new hobbies and dropping them just as quick, the amount of unfinished projects I have lying around is a little silly haha

And a wildly different fact is I really love karaoke with my friends (when it was safe to anyway) with a small few drink and a karaoke booth it was a lot of fun and something out of my usual comfort zone that I something I really enjoy ^_^

Hopefully that is enough, again, huge thanks for putting this on, and again, huge congratulations on the follower count 🎉💖

omg hey! a fellow intp! <3 thanks for participating!

i match you up with...

kaeya!

— after much contemplation and deciding between a handful of people, i’ve finally decided to go with kaeya :’) though, the runner-ups are somewhat close seconds! — kaeya is the type to encourage you to tell him everything you’re passionate about. he’s content with sitting and listening to everything you have to say— what kind of partner would he be if he didn’t care to listen? — if you ramble, that’s okay. if he is the one who carries the conversation, that’s fine with him too! and honestly, have you seen kaeya have a conversation with diluc? i’ve yet to see a conversation between the two without using sarcasm to insult each other in it, so i’m sure kaeya can tell if you’re being sarcastic as a joke! — i think kaeya would be the type to just visit you in person if you were to unintentionally ghost his messages,, (he’d be super dramatic about it as well, in a comedic way of course) or he’d go the extra mile and send a letter in the mail if he’s too busy to actually come by? i don’t know, just a small headcanon i have for him i guess :’) — kaeya definitely has an interest in learning new languages as well! he literally wrote his windblume festival love poem in hilichurlian, come on now,, — have you seen kaeya’s outfits? he’s really only had one other outfit (in the manga), but damn does this man know how to dress. i’m sure he’d also be open to trying out different styles with you, and he’d even suggest cute matching outfits,, if you’re into that, of course. — learning about a lot of different things seems like a very “kaeya” thing to do. he needs the knowledge so he can smooth talk and appeal to those suspicious drinking buddies of his— they’re his main source of information, so it’s very important to get on their good side! so of course he’d support you in every hobby you decide to take up :) and he likes seeing you find joy in different things, it gives him a soft, fuzzy feeling of content on the inside — hm,, i don’t know about kaeya’s opinion on karaoke, but imagine drunk kaeya,, singing the chorus of ‘my heart will go on’ by céline dion,, just a silly thought, i suppose <3 — runner-ups: xiao, childe, keqing (i had a lot of options jfdsgsk;;;)

#genshin impact matchup #matchup event #♡— 100 #user.unknown

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ramblinganthropologist · 3 years

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N7 challenge 21 and 22 - Undercover and Red Sand

Summary: Alistair Shepard’s back at it at Krispy Kreme when a contact informs him about red sand on the Citadel. So... how easy is it to get into Chora’s Den when you’re wearing OTT Sweet? He’s about to find out...

---

Nothing like showing C-SEC up by blowing the lid off their latest red sand problem. If only it hadn't wound him up in interrogation.

“Alright, Commander... I can understand a Spectre shutting this down... but how?”

Alistair shrugged as he shifted his weight so the uneven chair didn't bother him. They had one main way of dealing with suspects, even the ones who had helped them out. Unlucky for them, he understood physics. After all, they drummed the basics into recruits during boot camp. Chairs could eat his ass – ironic, considering he was sitting.

“Well, I heard rumor of it, so I investigated and found out what was going on. The rest was easy with my squad.”

The C-SEC agent looked almost incredulous as they glanced at him from across the table. “And... how did you do that? We've been working to get someone in for months.”

“Oh... I went undercover.”

“Undercover?”

And here was the time to get creative. He couldn't give ALL his methods away. Besides, no way such a straight-laced C-SEC agent was going to believe this.

“Commander Shepard, it's been a long time since we've worked together. How are you doing?”

Alice was looking good. He still wasn't sure why they were meeting on the Citadel like this, however. Good thing he had brought her things along to return, otherwise he would've had to mail it the next time he was in port.

Ah, the life of a wandering Spectre. Never in one place long.

He sipped at his tea before he answered. It was good tea – strawberry. He liked strawberry, good to know she did too. It went with her outfit more than his, mind you – today's coord was OTT in pink and white. Not a bad look on her, definitely different than the mint-chocolate number in the bags by his side.

“As well as can be expected. I hope you haven't been bothered by anyone since I dealt with the Blue Suns.”

She smiled at him as she took a dainty nibble at a biscuit. “Not at all. Things have been quite peaceful, actually.”

That was great... but it didn't explain why he was sitting in a lovely little cafe, drinking tea with his sister's friend. There was something she was going to ask him, and he was pretty sure he wasn't going to like it much.

Maybe he should've just done it by text... it would've been easier to say no.

In the pause, Alice took another sip of her tea and daintily put the cup down without making a sound. Her eyes were on him, burning not with desperation, but determination. Something about that made his stomach shift, yet at the same time... well, curiosity didn't just get the cat. Sometimes it got hamster-handling Spectres.

“In the time since then, I've become aware of something on the Citadel. I come here every so often to shop. Omega unfortunately leans a little too Classic for my taste, though I do believe that it would be the perfect style for you-”

Nope. Taako was good out here, to quote the old 21st century classic.

“Anyway... during one of my trips, I happened to catch whispers of something when I stopped for a refreshment. I believe you know what red sand is, Commander Shepard?”

His eyebrow zoomed to his hairline. “How does red sand come up among lolitas?”

Alice put a hand to her mouth to hide her chuckle. “Why, it doesn't. When did I say I only associate among lolitas?”

Yeah... that was his mistake. Still, his mind was wheeling. If Alice had heard mention of red sand on the Citadel... just the thought of it made his stomach turn. It was the sort of thing she definitely shouldn't be around...

And he sure as hell shouldn't. After all, as a biotic that shit fucked him up six ways to Sunday.

“At any rate, I tried to contact the proper authorities about it. They laughed at me and dismissed it as ramblings of a little girl with an active imagination.” She sniffed. “Ignoring the fact my ID says I am almost 30, by the way.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they're a real crack squad.”

“Which is why I came to you. You know my information is real, and more importantly, you are a Spectre.” She took a sip of her tea. “You can get to places that C-SEC cannot.”

Both of these facts were true. Still, he didn't see why they needed to meet in person. For something like this, all he really needed was an email. More than that, Alice had the same tone she had used the first time she had asked him for a favor.

You know... when he wound up in the dress in the bag he was currently holding.

“Right, but... why do I get the feeling this is going to involve a petticoat again?”

When Alice smiled, there was nothing friendly about it. “I may have neglected to mention when I was in this establishment, I may have slipped to my acquaintance that a friend of mine was a gorgeous petite blonde with blue eyes and a taste in OTT sweet...”

Alistair's cheeks turned scarlet. “You set me up again?!”

“Well, you did it so well the last time...” her voice dropped. “Please, Commander. I know you know the danger of red sand. I heard about your accomplishment on Illium with the Justicar. C-SEC refused to believe me, and I know this was true. You need to investigate this for the good of every biotic in the Citadel.”

She had made a grab for his hand with this, her eyes shifting from crafty to pure pleading. Part of him wanted to believe this was an act... yet the gaze she was giving him was downright desperate. Alistair felt his resolve dropping away as he glanced down at the bags.

Good thing he had made sure these were properly cleaned and ironed...

“Where do I have to go?”

Alice smiled as she poured him more tea. “Have you ever heard of a bar called Chora's Den?”

“Yeah, I almost got shot there twice.” His voice was flat, his eyebrow even higher. “A lolita at Chora's Den is going to stick out.”

His contact chuckled as she reached for a biscuit. “That's the point, Commander. Now, you're going to need to be there by 22:00-”

Why did he get the feeling he was going to regret this...

---

“Commander, are you ready?”

Yes, he just needed to fix his petticoat.

Alistair had never expected to wear one ever again, and yet there he was. Apart from some new accessories borrowed from Alice to help with the change in fashion and season, it was the same damn dress, petticoat, and wig he had worn the last time.

The purse was different, though. Made hiding his gun and a few other tools easier should he need it.

“I'm ready, Alice, just had to make sure everything was sitting right.”

The line for Chora's Den was short that night as he approached with quick, even steps. The second time in rocking horse shoes was easier, not that he had practiced for the occasion or anything. He was just more confident this time as he made his way to the entrance. After all, this wasn't his first rodeo.

“Now, I told them my friend's name was Jane. You can fill occupation and hobbies in yourself, just remember that we met at Baby the Stars Shine Bright's store on the Citadel.”

He knew that brand – it was a classic. Not quite OTT due to the prestige of being one of the cores of lolita fashion, but it was famous. Hell, he'd watched Kamikaze Girls the first time he'd been preparing for a mission like this. A brand only lasted that long through staying power and appeal. It wasn't quite to his taste, but he could see how it had made it to the late 22nd century.

…

And now he was forming opinions on clothing brands. Shit. He was getting way too into this undercover work.

“Right... thanks for the ad-lib room.”

“Bo said you were an expert at it. Now, I'll let you know when I see them. This contact camera is amazing, did you really design it yourself?”

Alistair had to resist a chuckle as he waited in line, pretending like he was taking a call on his omni-tool. “Oh no, it was a customization of an existing design that didn't quite meet my needs. I could show you the fabric when I get back tomorrow.”

Alice was a smart woman – she caught on quick. “Impressive. Is this what working what a Spectre is like?”

Oh, she should see him when he had tech in his hands. That's when the magic happened. His contact cam was just a fruit of that effort from having to go undercover one too many times. After all, he could hardly rely on cameras where he went half the time. It was better to have one on hand that was constantly being saved to his hard drive on his computer back on the Normandy. There was also a backup version Alice would have, and a second version on his omni-tool. You could never have enough backups in case things went wrong.

Some might call him paranoid. They could kiss his ass, he had died once before – you could never be too careful.

“Excuse me, sweetheart, I think you're lost. The Tea Room is up a ways.”

There was a man leering at him. The outfit had definitely turned him off, so his only reaction to what he perceived a woman was scorn and minimizing. Alistair had seen this plenty of times before, and dealt with younger versions in his teens. Luckily, it didn't bother him.

So he shot them a blank, dignified look down the bridge of his nose as he walked past. “I do believe the line is back there. Chora's Den isn't fond of nobody line cutters last I checked.”

The man's friends laughed as he sputtered. Naturally, an assault to his identity would prompt a desire to beat the shit out of the one who had caused it. The question is, would he go after someone in a dress and petticoat?

Looks like the answer was yes – he was leaning forward.

“Why you little-”

With a swift movement, he had the man off balance and knocked on his ass. Then he kicked as a reminder to stay down. It wasn't hard enough to hurt anything seriously – just well aimed. It left his annoyance groaning on the floor.

He gave the friend group a blank look as he kept walking. “I would advise keeping your friend on a leash. I think he's in heat.”

Then he entered Chora's Den under the eye of a more than amused bouncer and with the chorus of a bunch of already drunk men. They were quickly drowned out by the music of the club and the energy that surrounded it.

It looked a little different since Fist had been running it. Cleaner maybe, though probably just as corrupt. There were still dancers of various council species, and those who enjoyed watching. These he gave a wide berth, making his way to the bar. This was the same person- he hadn't seen their body when they had cleared the place out. Smart woman.

“Nice going with the guy out front, honey.” She gave him an appreciative nod. “Saw it on the cams. What can I get you?”

He smiled, carefully. “Please tell me you have some form of sprite here. I don't exactly drink, but I'm here to meet someone.”

The bartender laughed as she reached under the bar. “Last time I heard that, Commander Shepard was still on his first life. It's why I carry the stuff. Here, I call this the Red Shepard. It's got a little grenadine in it for color.”

…

Apparently, there were drinks named after him in bars. Who knew? At least it seemed to be the designated driver special. He was happy to accept, though when he tried to pay she shook her head. Part of him was worried it was his borrowed credit chit, but then she smiled.

“You did us a favor, honey. The bouncer almost threw out his shoulder tossing him out. Drinks are on the house tonight.”

Well, that was good for him. He smiled and went off to find a place to sit so Alice could get a view of the floor. Though the music was loud, his ear piece had a noise blocking feature he was more than happy to turn on. When it came down to it, he just didn't like night clubs. Add in the dancers and he liked them even less.

If they were dudes... well... he probably would've been too embarrassed to stay long.

“See anybody yet, Alice?”

“No, but your performance outside the Den was impressive. Was that aikido?”

He smiled as he sipped at his drink. “I picked it up in basic because I was smaller than everyone else and got tired of getting my ass kicked.”

“A friend of mine learned judo for the same reason.”

Good to know someone else was kicking ass on the small side. Alistair raised his glass in tribute as he took a careful sip. He had needed the sugar anyway – he had started to feel a little shaky after walking in. Low blood sugar was fun like that.

As he waited for his blood sugar to raise as Alice looked around, he took the chance to glance around Chora's Den without moving his head. They had definitely cleaned the place since Fist had run the place. They probably had to – his squad had left more than a few bodies and bullet holes when they were breaking out to go rescue Tali. He could still remember where he had almost collided with a wall running after Bo to make sure everything was alright.

She had left quite the trail of destruction. It was kind of impressive. Good they had fixed it in the two years since he had been dead, though.

“Commander, the target is approaching you now. Play nice.”

Alistair picked up his head as he took another sip of his drink. There was indeed someone approaching his table. Surprisingly, they weren't wearing a coord. Instead, he would have said they were any normal resident of the Wards.

Which of course, meant nothing. Out of uniform he looked like any random twink with a minor obsession with hamsters.

“Jane, is it?”

Right, that was his code name. He gave his best cordial smile, much like he had seen Alice give, and nodded. The person in front of him smiled as well as they took the seat across from them, already carrying a drink in their hand.

Theirs was definitely alcoholic – it was making his damn eyes water.

“It's so good to finally meet you...” he trailed off. “Forgive me, Alice didn't give me your name.”

They answered a little too quickly – someone was eager. “It's Rax. I was a little worried you weren't going to show up. Chora's Den is kinda rough, I'm still surprised Alice comes here when she's on the Citadel.”

People were just full of surprises, weren't they?

Alistair took another sip of his drink as he gave Rax the once over. While he didn't see any tattoos for the major gangs, the lean muscle and scarred hands suggested they were into something. Part of him would have considered undercover C-SEC, but they were obvious from a mile away. Garrus had taught him to to tell them anyway. So this guy was probably either a low level merc striking out on their own, or they were from a third party gang trying to muscle in on the big three.

Poor sap. They'd be lucky if they survived the year.

“So... why don't you tell me about yourself? Alice played this close to the corset I'm afraid.”

They were already stammering as they swallowed half their drink in one impressive gulp that dribbled down their chin. Gross. At least Alistair was a master of keeping it off his face as he kept the camera trained on his target. C-SEC might need this data later after they wiped the egg off their faces.

“Oh uh... nothing special. I just do some work locally.” Another sip – someone was nervous. “How about you? Alice says you're not on the Citadel much?”

He shook his head carefully, taking another sip. “No, my work takes me off the station frequently. I work for a small organization doing research on how the various council species construct clothing.”

“Makes sense, what with how you dress and all.” They obviously then bit their tongue. “Sorry, just... don't see a lot of women like you on the Citadel.”

Alistair chuckled much like Alice would as he played with the straw of his drink. “Oh, I'm not that rare. We just keep to different places on the Wards.”

Why did he get the feeling Rax would love nothing more than to know where those areas were? While he wasn't exactly a member of the subculture, he could tell someone trying to scratch an itch when he saw it. The guy was kind of pathetic, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. A little more charismatic, and maybe he'd be concerned.

Then again, he was just pumping the guy for info.

“Oh... m-makes sense I guess. I mostly stay down here.”

The Spectre in disguise took another sip of his drink, careful to monitor the level. “What kind of work do you do? You look strong... C-SEC, maybe?”

The person in front of him snorted into their way too strong drink. “C-SEC is a fucking joke, Jane. They're just glorified pencil pushers sweeping the Citadel over.”

While this was true... maybe he could lean into this to get somewhere. Alistair nodded along as he played with his straw again. It was easy to see Rax was watching his every move. Maybe it was a good thing he had painted his nails for this...

It was the little touches that made the role worth it.

“Sounds like you get into some dangerous things, Rax.” He smiled, leaning in. “That's kind of exciting.”

Rax grinned, but there was nothing friendly about it as they lowered their voice. “Oh, you could say that. C-SEC doesn't even know I exist. Those idiots keep pinning my shit on other small time idiots. It's really clearing the market for me.”

Man, he must have been drunk to let go this easily. That, or he was puffing himself up. Alistair wasn't sure right then as he started putting the pieces together. With dealers, he could never tell. Usually they weren't too friendly with him... but that was when he was in armor.

So he lowered his voice again. “Market? Do you mean like... drugs?”

“Oh, I got something better than that, Jane.” Rax was so close that Alistair could smell their breath – gross. “You ever heard of red sand?”

“There, you have them! Pump them for information!”

Alice was getting excited, but the Spectre remained calm as he took a small sip of his drink. Every motion he made was deliberate, due in part to the fact he knew he was being watched. Rax's body language was screaming some rather lascivious things to say the least. Sadly, they weren't Alistair's type.

He liked his merc on the good guys's side.

“Red sand... that's that stuff that makes you biotic, right?”

Rax nodded as they drained their drink. “For a bit. I have a guy who supplies me from Ilium. C-SEC still thinks it's coming from Omega, the fucking morons!”

Yeah, they were... but now Alistair needed to find out where he was keeping it. Oh, he was going to regret this part... but it was what he needed to do. Luckily, he had a gun in his purse and a well-modified omni-tool to put up kinetic armor should he have the need.

So he smiled, finishing his drink. “Sounds thrilling. Skirting the law, working with that kind of material. You live an exciting life.”

“You don't know the half of it, Jane.” They looked at both empty drinks on the table. “Say... looks like both of us are out. I got something a little better at my place. It's not far if you want to come with... I can walk slow for you.”

Alistair smiled as he stood, straightening his skirt as he did. “Maybe you can tell me a little more about your exciting life while you're there. I've never tried... you know...”

He looked away, willing his face to blush. It was hard to do it on command, but it gave him a chance to look through his altered eyelashes. Rax was watching him, looking as though they had just won the world series.

Too bad they wasn't getting lucky tonight.

“Well, I think I could give you a taste.” They held out their arm. “Follow me, then. This place was getting a little too loud anyway.”

The pair were soon leaving Chora's Den, walking out of the club entirely. The bartender gave Alistair a concerned look, but when Rax wasn't looking he winked and patted his purse, briefly showing the outline. Then she shook her head, but smiled anyway.

It was short walk, like the merc had said. This part of the Wards was pretty run down, just like the Spectre remembered it. Luckily, they were heading for a small group of ramshackle warehouses. Honestly, it was just the place he expected someone to hide red sand.

Still... talk about keeping it right under C-SEC's nose. If Rax hadn't been so horny for a pretty face in a long skirt, they might've pulled it off longer.

“Here's my little piece of heaven.” Rax's smile turned to a smirk as they nudged Alistair closer to the door. “So uh... how about we get to know each other a little better? It's gonna be hard to do this in such a big skirt a-”

Alistair was all smiles as his eyes glowed bright blue and pinned his target against the wall. “Yes, I do believe it's going to be a little hard to do this if you keep trying to undress me with your mind. Now, about the red sand?”

Now it was going to get fun... he had plenty of sugar to work off from that Red Shepard. Might as well put it to use.

Poor Rax. All they had wanted to do was get laid. They had even been nice about it. Sadly, that's what happened when you tried to fuck a Spectre pumping you for info.

---

“So you went undercover in Chora's Den and wound up meeting with the middleman.”

Alistair nodded as he finished his compacted story. The C-SEC agent still looked incredulous, but he had filled in the needed pieces. Naturally, he had kept out the parts about him being in a dress, but they were more window dressing anyway.

“Yep. They showed me the warehouse, I restrained them when they made a move against me. Then you guys showed up.”

Turns out Rax had been sitting on a small mountain of red sand, enough to really fuck some people up. They were still working on locating their supplier, but Alistair had a feeling they had long since cut and run. After all, there hadn't been nearly enough to strike out as a solo dealer. More likely, they were just holding for someone more powerful.

But... that was one supply cut off he supposed.

“Well... you managed to clear up a red sand smuggling ring we had previously thought was connected to Omega. Not to mention a few assaults, a missing person, and a possible murder.” The C-SEC agent looked rather sheepish. “You uh... you do good work, Shepard.”

Alistair smiled as he rose. “Thank you. Can I get going, though? I need to get back to the Normandy. They kind of can't take off without me.”

“Oh uh... sure. If we hear anything else, we'll let you know...”

With that, Alistair took his leave of the station. As he did, he walked past the office of a few other officers. From the looks of things, they were clearing the cases he had managed to bust open for them with a few hours work.

Not a bad job for a Spectre.

“I don't get it... are you sure that's what she said?”

“Yeah, bartender at Chora's Den said a woman in a green, puffy dress with blonde hair was seen leaving with Rax. Nobody's seen her since.”

And then he was walking a little faster. After all, he had a ship to get back to, and a lot of questions he didn't want to answer. Besides, he had a dress he needed to iron and return once it was back to pristine condition.

He was definitely returning it this time. No more cross-dressing...

…

At least not in this dress. Green wasn't really his color, and Alice probably wanted it back. Maybe he should...

Fuck. Now this was a road he didn't want to go down.

#ramblinganthropologist's writing #n7month #Alistair Shepard #He's starting to form a hobby poor man

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momo-jpeg · 4 years

Text

Ouran Host Club in Hogwarts

Part 3

The support my hp au is getting is making me 🥺

Part 2: https://insertcoolextras.tumblr.com/post/619212348929032192/part-2-part-1

Part 1: https://insertcoolextras.tumblr.com/post/619144586466656256/ouran-hp-au-haruhi-hufflepuff-tamaki

Originally, Renge was going to be a Slytherin but; I have decided to make Renge a Ravenclaw cause she does have a lot of qualities of one too, like intelligence of character analysis , schools, people, etc. (Ex: understanding Honey was purposely acting cuter than normal, or how there were more than one boy Lolita types and which one will work) She’s creative with her cosplays and has a very strong wit, thinks outside of the box (coming up with the Halloween event). She’s like a harsher Luna tbh if you think about it, everyone sees her as the weird but resourceful girl. Also a good trait for the manager of a host club

It also evens everything out, 2 main characters in each house! I felt bad Kaoru being alone and then the others have 1-2 other people with them

I’m thinking of having similar developments of the characters but throughout their years of school, the host club would probably start at year 4 for them (the youngest members are age 14-15 so I mean,) but the years before that they’ll have more developement together so the host club becomes something everyone agrees on, Tamaki of course would be the one to suggest it to Kyoya then they get everyone but instead of the characters questioning it they would join almost right away because they’re already friends and such.

Don’t leave Kaoru alone with the potion

I wanted the colors to pop but the markers made it messy 😔🖐 anyway Honey as a dueling master is so much fun to me, I love the idea of him learning spells easily and just being a very talented fighter (maybe if something like the war happened- Ooo that would be cool but I probably not happened, who knows tho)

Haruhi meets the twins first! Kyoya and Tamaki share a cart with some random kids and same goes to Honey and Mori. The twins were the only ones left in a cart that wasn’t full (mainly cause most people know to not bother them) but Haruhi needed a place to sit

Also similar to the show there will probably be romance moments with all the characters but nobody will become a canon couple just due to the fact I don’t want to leave anyone out, or have someone’s ship not sail (I myself am a huge multishipper in this fandom so-)

Imagine the whole group going out to hogsmeade together :))!! Getting butterbeer, and laughing. Oh that makes me v soft inside. Maybe when the host club actually starts girls can schedule dates with them there. Oh and Honey at honeydukes 🥺🥺, agh,, I love them sm

Mori and Haruhi would be closer here too, more in the platonic sense than romantic, like he protects her when no one else can in common rooms and such. Their dorm mates somehow don’t realize Haruhi is a girl (probably some kind of charm or something), but Mori knows and is there to protect her in case something happens (and thunder storms at the middle of the night)

Around summer time they all send letters to each other, I think it’ll be cute if they also met up in the later months at one of their houses to hang out for like a week or two before school starts! They’d probably get Haruhi to come to professional quidditch games as well.

Speaking of quidditch!! The host club at school quidditch stuff. Honestly I can’t really see many being quidditch players; I feel like Tamaki would become Gryffindor Captain and is in the Seeker position, Hikaru would be a Gryffindor beater, and Kaoru would be the Ravenclaw keeper. I could also see Haruhi trying it out for a bit, where she starts off poorly but becomes really good at it, so she’d probably be a Hufflepuff Chaser and maybe become a captain as well! The rest come to every game to cheer on their friends, they don’t really care who wins or loose. Lobelia girls might be in it as well, like Benio would become Slytherin Captain, chaser position, Chizuru also as a chaser and Hinako seems like a keeper.

So I don’t really have a plan for these headcannons, maybe a fanfic? Or comic?? Comic would more likely be doodles like I’ve been doing, or occasional moments between them cause it’ll be hard for me to make a full blown comic- But I am willing to try to make a fanfic! I don’t write often but I have been told I am pretty decent, it’s up to you guys really- I could do something similar to an ask blog too!

Part 4: https://insertcoolextras.tumblr.com/post/619789157824331776/ouran-host-club-at-hogwarts

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yomiurinikei · 4 years

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I was looking through your old posts and i found the one with trans boy Nikei headcanons and i was wondering if you could do some trans girl Emma headcanons too, if it's not asking too much ^^

this was in nikeis notes, he says it's done and that i can post it! also that u can request anything, and it's okay to ask for more headcanons if u want! - andrew!

~*~ trans girl emma headcanons!

•okay so she totally loves like. lolita fashion and all that, she knows that she doesn't have to b feminine to b a girl, but it's all so cutesy and pretty and she'd love to wear lolita stuff out in public but she's worried abt her reputation and what people will think

•it took her a while but with hype from the CoU, she did end up slowly incorporating more and more parts of it into her style, it's not close to a everyday thing, but it makes her really happy and gives her a lot of gender euphoria

•uh that wasn't very trans-centric tho sorry;;

•she's naturally really tall, so at first she was very :/ abt it and decided she was only gonna ever wear flats for the rest of her life

•but! time went on and she slowly grew to be more happy and accepting of herself, so her height is much less of a stressor for her now!

•gender was always. a fuck to her, she never really felt like anything, and so when she was saved by utsuro, and the cps workers came and found this child with long hair, wearing a dress like piece of clothing and called her a girl, emma decided that it was nice, and she'd like to be a girl now

•i'm sorry i just. like it when people have good experiences with working out their gender identity?? idk i'm dumb

•uh bc she was. so certain what she wanted, she went straight from being on hormone blockers to being on hrt!

•her hair is her pride and glory, she takes very good care of it and it brings her a lot of gender euphoria

•she and nikei spent time together being trans solidarity and like. messing with their hair, taking care of it and admiring each other's hair bc we stan a king and a queen

•off topic but emma looks so pretty with her dark hair and eyes. she looks so pretty with her dyed hair and contacts (i'm assuming that's what it is) she's so pretty. i love her

•her coat is a big comfort item for her, if she's ever hit by dysphoria out of the blue and she's in public, just hiding in it a bit more (there probably some hidden buttons/clasps u can't see with all the fur) helps to alleviate said dysphoria

•very openly out and proud!!!!

•some. nosy journalists and reporters (not nikei he would never fuck linuj and his shitty decision to make nikei a pervert in his ftes when it's. nowhere to b seen in the main game. i hate this) were pestering here abt what she thinks of trans rights and all that

•she goes "yea i actually really don't like how the general population has been handling trans people" and everyone expects her to b transphobic but she goes off abt how people are hiding their transphobia behind a thin veil and that a lot of people say they support trans rights then do. fucked up terrible things

•she ends it by going "and please for the love of god, i've been on either blockers or hrt my whole life, please just let me use the bathroom without invading my privacy"

•a queen i love her

•someone goes "oh wow u don't look trans!!" and she just. sighs and asks them to maybe broaden their idea of what a trans person is/looks like

•she's very tired of having to deal with people bc suddenly her whole career is abt her being trans

•but! she's always got one certain journalist there to respect her boundaries and ask her abt things she wants to talk abt, so that's nice

•literally a makeup goddess???? she's entirely self taught and looks perfect whenever she feels like wearing make up

•emma looks perfect no matter what but i digress

•in conclusion: emma is my perfect queen who has a lot of pride in herself, and while she can/will go to her friends for help, she also has a lot of self love, and is a girl i would die for

#sdra2 #emma magorobi #trans girl emma #headcanons #is this how he posts??? is this his format???#he's. here and not saying anything so i think i am fine and cool and smart?#- andrew

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the-storyteller-and-her-soldiers · 4 years

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Day #8: well good morning everyone I hope that you were able to sleep well and have the loveliest of dreams! I did sleep well but I had some of the messed up dreams that I've had in awhile. Again it dealt with self-inflicted death but this time it was my father and I dealt with the whole grieving process and was upset since it felt so real, THEN THE FUCKER CAME BACK WITH DEBT! And then part of my dream was like a real life guilt trip commercials. You know the one with the sad music in the bunch of really sad and maybe hurt animals in shelters. It broke my heart!

And then Devil May Cry 6 came out and Kyrie was a main character and it all started with her getting attacked of course... And Nero looked so good but of course he rushed to his side and cradled her in his arms and was so worried and just ICK ICK IIIICK there was a lot more fucked up stuff that was like the cherry on top of the shit sundae! She was a suddenly amazing fighter tho... really admire you guys who can see your f/os in canon/fanon and just see yourself! It's really cool but just not my thing.

The only good thing about this dream was getting to explore a Weird semi outdoor mall with my girlfriend and friends. It's always good to see her, she also was real excited since she got the new Miku game and wanted to play with me! I'd love to do that when I get out of here! I also had this pretty purple and black lolita/victorian dress from the weird mall and that was fun!

But anyway as much as I rambled about this dream I'm not letting it get to me too much! Today is a new day and I'm going to do my best to make it a good one! I'm about to eat breakfast and I have OT at 9:30! Also I hope you're having a wondrous day and are getting all the love you deserve!!

#tssaoas #pain chronicals

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alanna-artroid · 4 years

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Cookies I Have From Cookie Run So Far! (And My Thoughts On Them)

Alright, I’ve gotten pretty far in Cookie Run: Oven Break, and I felt the need to share my thoughts on all the adorable cookies I’ve unlocked so far. So far, I have 50/100, so I’d say I’m making good progress. On to the list!

GingerBrave: The bravest boy. If this was a show, he’d clearly be the main character. I recently got him a little suit, so now he’s a gentleman!

GingerBright: Sweet little lady. She looks like she’d be nice to get a coffee with or help you with homework. I definitely ship her with Brave, no doubt about it.

Strawberry Cookie: Precious baby! She’s super shy and I am compelled to protect her at all costs. Her pet is also a Tamagotchi, so she must be a gamer! Sweet!

Skater Cookie: HE WAS A SK8TER BOI! SHE SAID SEE YA LATER BOI!

Zombie Cookie: This is one of the fastest zombies I’ve ever seen. They seem like a nice guy overall though.

Princess Cookie: Heck yes, a mischievous princess! Those are the best! I love her dress and hair bows. I bet she just pretends to get kidnapped for the lols.

Pilot Cookie: Is it just me, or is this little old man smaller than most of the other cookies? Whatever, he’s got a cute mustache and he’s adorable. Go and fly!

Vampire Cookie: As a vampire nerd, I immediately adored this guy. I will gladly give him grape juice and chill with him under the light of the moon.

Gumball Cookie: Is this was Splatoon is like? This boi has a lot of chaotic energy and I like him.

Pistachio Cookie: I love this warrior woman so dang much. Look at that minty green hair! Her power is also SUPER helpful. She a speedy knight!

Pancake Cookie: HE’S A FLYING SQUIRREL! HE’S TOO CUTE I CAN’T EVEN! LET ME HUG THIS TINY CHILD!!!

Peppermint Cookie: Sweet baby. Good baby. My mom would probably adore this baby. (She loves mint and she’s not even a big sweets person.)

Muscle Cookie: As a lesbian, I’m not into big abs and muscles, but he’d probably be a good gym partner. Don’t mess with him is all I can say.

Cherry Cookie: Little Red Riding Hood got some bombs! I hope she and Gumball can go cause chaos on the weekends.

Hero Cookie: Precious nerdy boi with science! I saw his Island of Memories intro and his bond with Jellyco Cube is just the sweetest thing! Follow your superhero dreams, my baby!

Fairy Cookie: I didn’t know Tinkerbell was in this game! Also, I got her a bee costume and that looks super cute on her. Love her hair bun.

Werewolf Cookie: ULTIMATE FLOOF! Doggo here has a lot of angst and I worry for him. Maybe Vampire Cookie can teach him to chill? That’d be nice.

Rockstar Cookie: Oh, the songs I could sing right here. High tier rocker boy. Loving that flowing white hair. Rock on, buddy!

Soda Cookie: Go-to starter for my Breakout runs. I love him very much, he’s super cute! Let me go to the beach with this righteous dude!

Dark Enchantress Cookie: Oooooh, she is GORGEOUS!!! I love her design~! I’ll be sure to invite her to any fancy balls I might have, as to avoid any Maleficent scenarios with this savage woman.

Moon Rabbit Cookie: My spirit animal! I love how she constantly munches while she runs. This girl is such a mood for me. Cute little bunny ears~!

Space Doughnut: Awww, look at this alien dork! Their design is very cute, and I love how their expression of >:3.

Macaron Cookie: Such a sweetie pie! Why must they all be so adorable?! She’s a little drummer girl! That is too precious! Look at her dress and hat!!!

Pink Choco Cookie: She reminds me of a show I watched when I was younger. It was about a space girl, does anyone remember it? This girl will save the day, I can tell!

Avocado Cookie: Strong girl on the loose! My pun-loving friends would adore this cookie. And she’s a blacksmith, which is always cool.

Whipped Cream Cookie: Elegant ballerino!! He’s definitely one of my favorites! Such a beautiful boi~! I love his design so much, and he’s very useful. <3 <3 <3

Blackberry Cookie: Yeeees! Gothic girl for the win! She is SO dang pretty! I am WEAK for gothic lolitas, and she even has ghost buddies! I bet she’ll love spooky games like Luigi’s Mansion and Hollow Knight.

Lemon Cookie: Edgy boi is trying way too hard to be Shadow the Hedgehog. I mean, can you SMILE for once dude? It’ll take me a while to bond with this guy.

Salt Cookie: He strikes me as a wise old man you’d find meditating at the top of a mountain, or in his case on a boat in the ocean. I bet he has lots of knowledge to share.

Squid Ink Cookie: AWWWWW, SWEET BABY SQUID!!! Guys, I think they might be my favorite! They’re so squishy and mighty, and they need all my love and huggles!!! Don’t be sad baby, I’ll be your friend! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Lime Cookie: Beach girl! She’s like Lemon Cookie, but slightly nicer! I really like her hair and beach ball. Very cool girl.

Ninja Cookie: FINALLY! SOMEONE WITH MORE THAN TWO JUMPS!!! I went kind of crazy with his jumping powers at first. He’s super cool. Not sure why his pet is a ghost though.

Pomegranate Cookie: Oooh, I love Asian fashion~! Look how fancy and elegant she is! Her story concerns me, and I’m worried about her.

Angel Cookie: Good cookie, sweet cookie. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. It looks like they trust the devil boy, which is beyond kind of them. I love it when angels get along with demons. Defy angle roles!!!

Devil Cookie: Speaking of, they’re a cute little bean too! I love the naughty demon trope, and this cutie is so mischievous! Call Angel your “rival” all you want, I’m still shipping you dorks.

Roll Cake Cookie: Imagine, if you will, the world’s biggest game of Whack-A-Mole! With that hammer, this boy would win without question.

Popcorn Cookie: I’d be happy to go with this girl to the movie theater! Also, I love how she had popcorn for hair buns. She seems like she’d be up for a fun time!

Carrot Cookie: Oh my lordy, her ponytails are carrots. The artists for this game are so clever. Strong but tiny farmer, I approve.

Ion Cookie Robot: Yes! A robot! I love robots, and this cookie is no exception! Definitely one of my favorites, up there with Whipped Cream Cookie. They’re super powerful too, and REALLY useful in Breakout and Trophy runs.

Dino-Sour Cookie: Gee Dino-Sour, how come Devsisters let you have two pets? Very cool punk boy. I can see him going to Rockstar Cookie’s concert.

Plum Cookie: Aren’t plums purple though? This boy is one tough cookie! Look at his karate moves! Honestly, I thought he was a girl at first. Why must these boys be so pretty?!

Yogurt Cream Cookie: PRINCE ALI! FABULOUS HE! ALI ABABWUA~!

Alchemist Cookie: Look, it’s Twilight Sparkle! Apparently, Vampire boy is her brother? I really like her hair braids(?), I just wish she’d loosen up a bit. She seems like a nice girl.

Roguefort Cookie: Aaaah yeah, elegant thief! This cookie is the coolest! I love this aesthetic so much~! Blue cheese has never been so fancy. Just look at this charmer, stealing hearts!

Pitaya Dragon Cookie: OOOOOhohoho! THIS is what I’m TALKING about! Look at this beast, they’re GLORIOUS! They’ve probably killed a bunch of people, but They’re crazy powerful and I adore them.

Knight Cookie: This guy is SO much fun to play as! He just won’t stop, he’s too fast!!! I couldn’t stop laughing once I found out just how fast this knight could go! Somehow he controls better than Pistachio? I don’t know, I love him!

Birthday Cake Cookie: TOO PRECIOUS FOR WORDS! SHE’S SO DANG CUTE!!! Also, her “Bonus Time” changes to “Happy B Day” and I... I just can’t! She’s the sweetest thing!!! <3 <3 <3

Cocoa Cookie: Awww, look at this sweet baby! I wanna snuggle her! Her design looks so warm and comfy. I have plenty of hot chocolate to give her. <3

Raspberry Mousse Cookie: Ah yes, the pretty boy that got me into this game in the first place. Along with Squid Ink, he’s probably my favorite. There’s a reason he has the highest affection so far with me. I just adore his design, and he’s very powerful! I will ALWAYS have him ready for Breakout and Trophy Runs. Well worth all the hype. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Rose Cookie: Finally, we have this lovely lady. Everyone is shipping her with Raspberry, and rightfully so. She is a high-quality woman that makes gay men straight and straight girls lesbian. Look at that outfit! And those dance moves!

Aaaand that’s everybody for now! I’ll update this once I get more Cookies. So far, I like most of them a lot. Anybody got some favorites they’d like to share? I’m still new to this game, but I’m happy to hear what others have to say!

UPDATE 1:

I went back and fixed all the gender mistakes I made. (I’m so sorry! D:) Also, I got a few more cookies! So here we go!

Walnut Cookie: Precious detective baby! The newest update is only making her cuter! Probably the shortest of the bunch, and I adore her design~! <3

Cinnamon Cookie: Super useful power so far, and they have a really cool cape! Those cards are very handy! (I promise I’ll pay attention to the genders of these cookies from now on! I don’t want to misgender anyone again!)

Sparkling Cookie: Oooh, a sparkling cider cookie! That’s honestly the only boozy thing I enjoy drinking. He is super classy and seems like the life of the party. He strikes me as a Great Gatsby kind of host.

Moonlight Cookie: OOOOOOOH~! LOOK at this GODDESS! I love the nighttime/dreamy aesthetic. This girl has Luna’s hair and a wizard’s outfit, high tier cookie!

White Choco Cookie: This game sure likes it’s knights, huh? This girl is a fine lady and apparently, she attracts all the lesbians. Can’t say I blame those girls, I do love that hairstyle.

Spinach Cookie: Aaand the newest cookie to hit the scene, this girl! I have never met someone so dedicated to vegetables, so I have to applaud that. She’s a super sweet girl, and I hope we find who stole her precious vegetables!!!

UPDATE 2:

More Cookies! It’s been a while since I’ve updated this, so I have quite a bit to share. On to the new ones!

Mustard Cookie: Look at this punk girl! Street artist on the loose in the streets! I always admire people and characters in this style, so I’m supporting this rebel all the way!

Herb Cookie: Now THIS guy is everywhere! It seems the fandom really likes him, and I can see why. He seems like a very nice boy, with a sweet plant baby. I like the leaf hair, very cool.

Sea Fairy Cookie: I love how everything on her flows. Her hair, her dress, she’s so beautiful~! I will say though, Legendaries are SO DANG HARD to level up and get affection with! WHY?!

Cream Puff Cookie: Awwww, look at this precious baby girl~! Look at her soft hair and little dress! I almost feel bad running with the super cute ones, I don’t want them to get hurt!

Matcha Cookie: Oooooh, all these ancient-looking cookies have the coolest designs! She’s probably insane, darkness will do that to ya, but she seems harmless so I like her!

Ice Candy Cookie: This chick could crush me like a grape and I don’t know how to feel about that. Hopefully, she’s only savage on the ice rink. I do NOT want to mess with this girl.

Cherry Blossom Cookie: Awww, look how pretty she is~! Cherry blossoms are always so lovely, and this girl embodies that. She has a PARASOL for crying out loud, I CAN’T EVEN!!

Grapefruit Cookie: This game sure likes sports, huh? She seems really cool, I love her colors! Do you think she’d play Skate 3? Hopefully, she’d get a laugh out of that game.

Pirate Cookie: This guy has been a long time coming. I’ve been curious about him since the Breakout episode. He’s pretty neat, I appreciate how he naturally comes with an extra revive.

Kumiho Cookie: Cool! A Kitsune! I love the spin on the concept of cookies. Let this marshmallow fox live out her reverse-furry dream! I’m loving her design too, look at that hair!

Marshmallow Cookie: Oh cute! Another marching band cookie! According to her story, she and Macaron had a falling out. I hope they can reconcile and be friends again. :(

Dark Choco Cookie: WE’VE REACHED MAXIMUM EDGE! WITH OREO SHOULDER PADS!!! Interesting how he’s still trying to be a hero, which is a nice spin on the “I have evil powers so now I’m evil” trope. Here’s hoping he stays strong.

Fire Spirit Cookie: Ah yes, the classic lord of fire. A staple for any fantasy story that includes the elements. Again, it’s impossible to get the affection for these guys.

Mala Sauce Cookie: Yay! I got Pitaya’s girlfriend! I always love it when there’s a tribe/society of warriors and the WOMAN is the strongest one there. Heck yes! This warrior lady is a badass!

Firecracker Cookie: I didn’t know I was invited to a rave party! Love the neon colors on this cookie, that’s something this game really excels at.

UPDATE 3:

I’ve reached 90 cookies! I’m on the homestretch!!!

Cheesecake Cookie: OH MY LORDY LOOK HOW FANCY SHE IS! I adore her already! Fancy ladies are the best ladies!

Kiwi Cookie: This game REALLY likes sports. He looks cool, can’t complain.

Yoga Cookie: Awww, a pretzel is trying to be loose! I’ve done yoga a few times, and it is very good for your body. Nice colors, simple design, nice.

Dr. Wasabi Cookie: I’d reference some mad scientist, but I know a lot of them so we’d be here for a while. Her combi generator has been very helpful.

Tiger Lily Cookie: IT’S THE EYE OF THE TIGER IT’S THE THRILL OF THE NIGHT, RISING UP TO THE CHALLENGE OF OUR RIVALS!

Chili Pepper Cookie: Uh oh, this one’s a troublemaker! I really like her hair, it’s very bright. Secure your pockets around this chick, that’s for sure.

Millennial Tree Cookie: These cookies are too pretty, I keep thinking they’re girls! This guy is so beautiful~ truly a being of nature!

DJ Cookie: Ooooh, I love her design~. Rainbow colors will win me over every time. And look! She’s wearing a Bi Pride shirt! This girl is awesome! I like how her special power is basically tiny Guitar Hero.

Snow Sugar Cookie: Soft baby, sweet baby. Looks very cuddly. Their level was very helpful during Sandwich Cookie’s event in getting frozen jellies. Those blue bears aren’t easy to come by!

Fig Cookie: CENTAUR! I wasn’t expecting one of those here! She’s such a sweetie pie~. Since everything and anything is allowed in this game, can we get mermaids or harpies next?

Cotton Candy Cookie: PRECIOUS BABY! She’s so gosh darn cute, I can’t take it! I personally can relate to falling in love with things so easily. And there are official plushies of her now! ONE DAY I WILL BRING HER HOME!

Purple Yam Cookie: Bro needs a chill pill. Not ONCE have I seen this guy smile yet. And I thought Lemon needed to lighten up. Milk seems to care about him though, so I guess he can’t be that bad.

Milk Cookie: The softest of warriors! Look how cute he is~! I adore him! Plus he really shines in the stories. I can only assume Yam is his boyfriend or something. Am I wrong about that?

Cyborg Cookie: Hey! I saw the storybook for this one! I’m surprised I haven’t unlocked this “Aloe Cookie” yet. Are they still in this game? I can’t find them on the chart. Anyway, Cyborg is cool. Very nice design.

Mango Cookie: Newest baby! I love him, and would love to learn all about the islands from him! I’m gonna say it, I already ship him with Ananas Cookie, no questions asked.

#cookie run #cookie run ovenbreak #list #alanna #alanna_artroid

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