kennt

they/them 18

[zombiekennt]

About me ── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Hii!! I’m kenny, I go by they/them and I love history, writing, reading, theatre, and playing music :3. I do color guard, play bass, and write for a lot of fandoms, mostly BoB or supernatural!! 🇻🇳

Masterlist ── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ taglist ── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ AO3

[zombiekennt]

Okay so hear me out... Post war Liebgott x reader, they met during the war and reader was this super tough, independent combat nurse, but now the societal expectation is that she be a housewife and she knows she's capable of more than this and is just lowk struggling?? Idk if this makes sense but HIIIII

✦ • -- ๑ But I can't help the feeling (I could blow through the ceiling)

Summary: You never wanted to be a housewife, but when it's what you're "meant" to be, you can't help but crack beneath every expectation.

pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Word count: 2185

Warnings: abuse of prescription drugs, sexism, mention of drugs, war, mild description of wounds, lack of communication, breakdowns, angst to fluff

DISCLAIMER!! This story is based on the characters portrayed by HBO and their actors; it is not meant to represent the real men behind the stories told in Band of Brothers.

A/N : giggling i love this ask and sorry for taking so long

There is a type of quickness your body develops, scared to slow down like a pelagic fish swimming so its heart doesn’t stop.

Sounds of wounded men, on the chaotic chatter of personal littered the room as you weaved through the paths. At times, the sound of shells and bombs would filter through the air dangerously close to the hospital. And each time, you looked ahead, comforting the nervous ones and moving ahead to help.

The harsh sun bled through the windows, shining down on the wounded as you tended to them. War was not forgiving; it made itself known to you through the constant noise and boys, some not even old enough to drink, sobbing and writhing in pain. It was achingly familiar nowadays, but you kept fighting for them, to pray they would live past all of this and lead into a better life.

“Nurse— Nurse!” The voice popped out from the crowd, legs unconsciously moving towards the wounded man. Another younger nurse glanced up at you, her hands awkwardly moving to hold down the man as he screamed in pain. Quickly, you jumped forward. Pouring sulfanilamide powder onto the wound to prevent infections.

“Get him some morphine,” You called out to the nurse, as you began wrapping his bloodied leg into bandages. The girl quickly stumbled and administered some to the man. Almost as soon as he settled down, another voice called out, and just as quickly as you had stopped, you were moving again and again.

War had made you crafty; you learned to improvise, you learned to choke down the water that the purification tablets made taste so strongly of chlorine to the point it reminded you of drowning in a chlorine-filled pool as a child. The adrenaline made you fast, focused, so much so that as the days flew by, you were exhausted. Your limbs were heavy, and your eyes drooped.

Jesus, what you’d kill for a break.

When the nurse who is supposed to relieve her comes, you stare her in the eye. A little younger than you, eyes staring up wide-eyed and unaware. You glanced over at your patients, pointing over at them,

“That one needs plasma, that man needs plasma, the other one too— and you should change his bandages in the next hour.” Your eyes drift back onto the girl whose gaze darts from the patients and back to you.

“I’ve never done that before,” She replies. You shake your head and pat her shoulder comfortingly. You’d been working around the clock, constantly on your feet— and as much as you’d like to help this girl, your body feels like it’s about the crumble and leave bits and pieces on the floor.

“You will today.”

You sat down against the curb, staring out at the piles of rubble that had once been a city of people. The smell of rotting flesh filled your senses as you desperately searched for a cigarette for some distraction.

It wasn’t just the sight— nor the smell. But it was also the constant sounds from the field far behind you that practically shook the ground. All of your senses were constantly being rattled around in your head, like a burst of fireworks lighting up the night sky on New Year’s. Every feeling in your body felt as if it were jolting together at the same time.

The sound of rubble crackling underneath boots caused you to jolt, turning to the side, your gaze was greeted by a soldier.

For a moment, the two of you simply watched eat other, the sounds of the world filling up your conversation, before he dug into his pocket and pulled up a fresh cigarette. Your hands lingered at your side, itching to grab it from him. Hesitantly, they moved upwards, plucking it from his dirtied fingertips.

“Thank you.” You shifted over just a bit, giving him enough space in the ruins of the town to sit beside you.

Out of his pocket fell a rusted steel lighter, flickering it on, he moved it closer to the cigarette dangling in your hand.

“No problem, nurse,” he replied, lighting his own and letting the smoke fill his lungs with a puff, “Sergeant Joseph Liebgott,” He introduced.

“You can just call me Joe, though.”

The world had become slow, practically silent.

The clock moved with a metronomic tick as you watched the bubbles in the pot simmer upwards. Watching each pop like something else was supposed to happen, something that would make the emptiness that lingered in the pit of your gut finally fill up with something. But it never came; instead, it was simply the constant sounds as the water came to a boil. The ground was still and quiet—it almost made you uneasy. Instead of moving along with the world, your feet came to a halt. You moved slowly, and the world sped up, leaving you behind.

San Francisco was too quiet for a city; the natural sounds had blurred out into your mind. Dull like the life you had grown into after the war— there was a moment in time where you believed you wanted this. A quiet life, a calm life alone with someone you loved. But how could you enjoy it when your heart pained for something faster?

The war could never be scrubbed from your skin; the memories etched themselves through scars and delve deep into your head. But in war, you were useful; you weren’t just some housewife cooking pasta and waiting for her husband to get home. You were educated, you were smart, so why hadn’t you seen that this wouldn’t have worked?

Maybe you always knew, though.

You’d seen how some of your friends adjusted, how they were able to enjoy this kind of life— but for some reason, you fit so uncomfortably. Too rough, too rigid, the mold wouldn’t hold all of you; you spilt out of the cold container like a broken vase leaking water. Joe could see it. You noticed the way his eyes would linger for too long with a furrowed brow— as if trying to decipher what had changed from the woman he had once known.

God knows life hasn’t been easy for him either; there were nights he’d stay awake and wander about the house like a dead man. The two of you had this sort of agreement: if you didn’t talk about what had happened, then he wouldn’t either. Perhaps that line of thinking had trickled into everything else because your mind couldn’t share what it had been festering inside. Part of it was fear, fear that he would leave you and find someone who could be what he wanted— it felt selfish, but another part was the attempt to give him what he wanted. That perfect nuclear family you’d been conditioned for since childhood. You tried to deal with it yourself, but all you got in return was a prescription and a lecture about being overemotional.

The door creaked open, accompanied by the sounds of shoes stepping onto the wooden floor. He’s home, and like some sort of picturesque magazine here you are— the wife, the woman cooking his dinner, cleaning the floors, smiling in the fucking photos, god knows you never wanted this, so why had you tried so hard to fit into something you’ve never wanted?

“I’m home!” Your eyes move towards the door, Joe’s white shirt peaking up from under his plaid button-up.

The bubbles in the water filled your ears, the sound practically drowning out the sound of his voice as he walked forward. His hands reached for your sides, it was cold— empty almost as his lips brushed against your forehead. Once Joe pulls away, his brow furrows. Searching for something behind your eyes to prove that you’re still alive.

“What’s for dinner, Sweetheart?” When the words escape his lips, something breaks. Like a vase that once held flowers that lightened the room was smashed open. Sweetheart, the word that used to make you flutter made you crack. Like you were only reduced to this— this housework, this home, to his wife. You were more, you weren’t just Mrs. Liebgott— you were more, so much fucking more. Every emotion, every painful thought boiled over in your eyes. Forcing tears to drip down your cheeks before any words could form. You could numb it down with wine, take the pills— but he wouldn’t understand.

He wouldn’t understand because when he looked at you all he’d see was some pinup to play house with.

Your hands move before your mind can react. What felt like an overreaction somehow helped release every pent-up frustration that the medicine had attempted to numb. Joe stumbles backwards, toppling into the countertop and sending a few of the glass plates smashing into the floor. The sounds of the shards skittering across the wooden floor burn the silence.

He calls your name once, but you can’t hear it over that annoying bubbling sound from the pot.

“You—” The words slide down your throat, with every attempt to swallow them, they shoot back up, “You made me like this— fucking look at me, Joe!” You want to grab him by the collar, yell in his face, and blame him for it all. Blame him, like the world around both of you hadn’t tried to push you into this role. But you stand there, a deer in headlights, waiting for him to wash that stupid look of fear— or maybe pity off of his face.

“I—” you choke on your words, and you can feel hot tears bubble in your eyes. He can’t hear what you have to say, but one look in your eyes says it all. I can’t be what you want me to be. You don’t want to be what anyone wants you to be.

Joe takes a step forward, testing the waters to see if you’ll recoil or push back. Once you don’t, he wraps you in an embrace, a hand holding the back of your head. He doesn’t force you back together; he has the pieces while they crack and hands them to you while you figure out where each one goes. He mutters your name in an attempt to stop the world from spinning beneath your feet,

“I’m here,” He utters, like he truly means it. “I’m listening.”

You want to kick him away, scream at him like it’s his fault. But you stay in his embrace, because maybe it was stupid of you to believe he wouldn’t listen— and perhaps ignorant of him to think you were fine with being like this. His embrace is warm, you lean into it and let it consume you while your tears soak his shoulders.

Joe takes to cooking dinner while you take some time for yourself. He’s a mediocre cook, but the sentiment is still there. You listen to him cuss as he burns himself while making the sauce and stifle a giggle once you watch him come out with everything plated.

The dinner table is silent for a few minutes while he stares at you before finally tearing apart the silence. “What’s wrong? This time, tell me, please.”

You stir the pasta around with your fork, glancing up at him before finally admitting everything that you’d tried to keep so close to yourself.

“I just, I can’t take this,” You began, “I don’t want to be the housewife— I don’t wanna make dinner every night, fold your laundry, and iron your clothes, or pop out a few kids and stay at home while you go out and provide for the family.”

“Then what do you want?”

Your lips pursed into a thin line as you admitted, “I don’t know.”

“You know, it doesn’t matter if you want to be a housewife, a nurse, a truck driver— I still want you.” His hand moved forward, holding yours from across the table, before uttering your name. “I need you, and whatever it is you want, I want you to have it.”

You smile back at him, letting out an exhausted chuckle while your thumb caresses his skin.

“Are you gonna start doing all the housework then?”

“Yeah, I already cooked dinner. I think I’m pretty good at this.”

“Fold the laundry next, and we’ll see.”

In the following weeks, a weight lifts across both of your chests. That suffocating weight of it all had finally allowed you to swim up to breathe. The house feels lighter, the world doesn’t move too slow, but it doesn’t rush you either. It allows you to walk with ease and make your way through life without fear. Joe comes to pick you up after work. He waits a few minutes earlier outside the hospital, no matter what time it is. You’ve gotten used to this life, he’s convinced you to get off the pills— there’s a list of chores the two of you split, and you can enjoy the sounds that litter your city.

This was where you were meant to be in peacetime, happily sharing a home with the man you loved as you.

MAIN MASTERLIST | JOSEPH LIEBGOTT MASTERLIST

[zombiekennt]

𓂅 ⋆❅‧₊˚ Cuckoo Ballad (Prologue)

Summary: The winter when your friendship first bloomed

pairing: Finn Shelby x implied poc!Reader

Word count: 691

Warnings: war, mentions of guns

A/N: i've rewritten this whole thing three times and i hate it but here it is :D also i know its the interlude but i wanted a prologue song

THE WINTER OF 1919 lingered differently from the previous ones. The remnants of the war still sat around Small Heath; it made itself present through the scarred men who walked the streets, the ones who would wake in the middle of the night and cry out as if death stood right at their feet. It had once been, and Finn didn’t have to go too far from home to see it. All he had to do was stare across the table during breakfast and see one of his older brothers. Yet despite it all, he wanted so badly to be like them, hardened and tough. To not flinch in the face of danger and get the thrill of a gun in his hand.

The snow fell like a delicate silk blanket, covering the grimy roads and leaving them prim and pristine. Finn patted more of the ice into a firm cylinder shape, a boisterous smile adorning his lips as he peered over the structure. His gaze lingered on the young girl who sat just on the other side.

“When I get older, I wanna live in a big house.” You commented, packing more snow forward, “Like a castle.”

“A castle?” Finn inquired.

Your lips pursed into a thin line, focused on making this structure as tall as humanly possible. “Yeah, like Queen Mary!”

Over the past few days, you’ve found yourself drawn closer to the outdoors. The sight of snowfall enticed you, and in the mix of it, Finn Shelby had stumbled into your life. You didn’t know much about him—other than who his family was. Your mother had told you that they turn everything they touch into ash, that they burn and steal their way through life.

But watching Finn’s rushed movements to build his hands didn’t seem to melt the snow. It hadn’t been burned and made into a pool of water sitting below their feet; instead, it stood tall as a proud mound in the sea of bright powder.

“And I’d want it to be super tall, like—a hundred feet tall.” Your hands flew outwards in a circular motion, your voice dragging out the words to make them larger.

“You couldn’t be a princess if you wanted to,” Finn replied, shaking his head with almost a disapproving movement.

Your gloved fingers grabbed at the snow below you, stepping to the boy’s side and yanking the back of his collar. The hand gripping the powder flipped, sending the ice straight down his bare back. With a yelp, Finn jumped forward, toppling into the building that the two of you had spent the last half hour patting and building up.

But it was bound to fall eventually; if not for Finn, that time would’ve worn it away, melted into just a puddle of dirty water on the sidewalk. While your giggles filled the air, the boy had taken the time to pack a firm snowball into his hand. Without a second to waste, it flung straight for your face.

The frigid frost greeted your face with a hard slap. “Hey—” The laughter had stifled for a moment before the need for retaliation reached your eyes. Quick hands flew forward, piles of snow heading straight back at him.

The snowstorm that the two of you had started left the cold kissing against your skin. Freezing with the same decorum as a butterfly gracing your fingers before fluttering away like it hadn’t been there before.

Finn’s hands grabbed at your coat, tugging and sending your body toppling down onto the ground. With his free hand, he blindly grasped at the snow hurdling towards your defenseless position.

You were warm—not physically, of course; the cold was violent and harsh, but in the midst of it all, you were still warm. The laughter and innocence that stayed buried in the snow would melt when spring came around. But for now, things were good; the cold enveloped you with a kind of warmth you could only find in the halls of your childhood. The kind you would miss and dream of when it slipped through your fingertips. Time would rip it away; it always would.

MASTERLIST | MATTER OF TIME MASTERLIST

[zombiekennt]

Hii! I don’t remember if I requested from you before so I’m sorry if I’m blowing up your inbox lol but I saw your roe x Reader headcanons and wondered if you could do the same with Heffron?

Edward Heffron hcs

Summary: general hcs for heffron :D

pairing: Edward "Babe" Heffron x Reader

Word count: 356

Warnings: DISCLAIMER!! This story is based on the characters portrayed by HBO and their actors; it is not meant to represent the real men behind the stories told in Band of Brothers.

A/N: i need to start writing more guys

Loves resting his chin on your shoulder— tall or short, he’ll get up on his tippy toes and bend down just to do it.

MAJOR SHOWOFF when he notices you're watching. He’ll try to seem tougher than he is or try a little harder at darts once he notices your eyes lingering on him.

But, once you do acknowledge him or notice he’s trying a little too much, he becomes a mess. Gives you nervous smiles and is just like “oh, you noticed that,” like he hadn’t been trying to get you to notice.

If you live together, he hides notes around the house for you and writes sweet compliments or messages for you. You found one behind the shower curtain once that said, "your man must be one lucky guy."

Adding on to it, if you live together, while he tries to keep himself clean and well-groomed, he has a bad habit of leaving things very unorganized and messy. Despite all the clutter, he's able to navigate and find each item. Sometimes, you just ask him to grab things for you, since for some reason, he always seems to know where they are.

I can see him as the type of guy to grow tomatoes for some reason; he treats them like his babies and is always sure they get the best soil, fertilizer, and care.

Likes taking you on bike rides around the city, on days off, the two of you make a whole day of it. Exploring places you've seen millions of times, stopping by parks and restaurants you've looked by in passing yet never took the time to interact with.

Learned how to make flowers out of paper once, so every time he gets a napkin or an old newspaper, he makes them when you're gone or at work and leaves them on your nightstand.

Sleeps on his stomach and hugs his pillow at night.

During the war, if he found little patches of flowers, he'd pick a few and carry them around in his pocket before sending them to you with his letters or seeing you and handing them to you.

MAIN MASTERLIST | EDWARD "BABE" HEFFRON MASTERLIST

[zombiekennt]

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ EDWARD HEFFRON MASTERLIST

ONESHOTS

coming soon!!

HEADCANNONS/DRABBLES

General hcs

SERIES

coming soon!!

MAIN MASTERLIST

[zombiekennt]

i will respond to most of my asks by the end of the week school has lowkey been taking up all my time 💔

[zombiekennt]

PLEASE GIVE ME DOC ROE X READER HCS

Eugene "Doc" Roe general hcs

Summary: general hcs

pairing: Eugene Roe x Reader

Word count: 341

Warnings: cigarettes

A/N: YESS I LOVE MY KING ROE

DISCLAIMER!! This story is based on the characters portrayed by HBO and their actors; it is not meant to represent the real men behind the stories told in Band of Brothers.

LOVES holding your hand in public, grips it a little tighter whenever he wants your attention instead of just saying something. Kind of like a silent call out.

On that same note he really likes kissing your hand while they’re interlocked. Flashes a boyish grin at you each time without fail.

When you first met there was this awkwardness that bleed through the conversation, but as you both began finding comfort in each other’s company it began to fade into genuine affection.

Whenever you get sick he INSISTS on doing everything around the house. He most likely ends up trying to be affectionate with you despite your warnings about getting him sick.

Major hypocrite when he gets sick because he doesn’t want you doing his chores, even if he’s on the brink of collapsing he will fight you to do his share.

On weekends when it’s late at night and the responsibility of work doesn’t loom over the both of you, he likes to turn and the radio and dance with you in the kitchen. His arm wraps around your waist while his free hand interlocks with yours.

An absolute sucker for eye contact, if you ever want anything all you need to do is stare at him and he’ll fold so quickly.

If you were with him during the war, say as a nurse or another soldier whenever you could the two of your would spend late nights together cigarettes in hand while staring up at the starry ceilings of Europe.

Now, back at home that tradition would still carry on. You both would sit on the balcony or porch, Eugene’s arm slung around your shoulder while a cigarette dangled between your lips. The cold air nipping at your skin while the two of you talked about your day.

Cradles your face in his hands so gently like he’s afraid you’ll break if he’s too rough.

Eugene kisses you with such reverence he has to make sure with every touch that you’re real and not just something he’s made up.

MAIN MASTERLIST | EUGENE ROE MASTERLIST

[zombiekennt]

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ EUGENE ROE MASTERLIST

ONESHOTS

coming soon!!

HEADCANNONS/DRABBLES

General hcs

SERIES

coming soon!!

MAIN MASTERLIST

[zombiekennt]

you guys should like make request for me to write 😛

[zombiekennt]

Two Sleepy People

Summary: Late nights with your husband

pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Word count: 1139

Warnings: Slight nsfw, mentions of war, language, smoking, DISCLAIMER!! This story is based on the characters portrayed by HBO and their actors; it is not meant to represent the real men behind the stories told in Band of Brothers.

Some memories never leave the mind—from the sweet, gentle embrace of a loved one to the tight feeling of war grazing your neck in the form of a sharp bullet. They stayed; they lingered through the cracks and ridges of your brain and stayed buried deep like June beetles in hibernation. Even in the arms of a lover, the memory was always watching like a shadow, waiting for you to acknowledge it.

San Francisco was mostly silent; other than the clattering of cars from the street below your apartment and the murmur of city life, it was peaceful. Much colder than certain places in California you had looked at, but Joe liked the apartment, and it was nowhere near as cold as Bastogne’s gripping temperature was.

The darkened sky and barely starry ceiling lay just outside the window. Your head pressed against the familiar feeling of Joe’s bare chest. Acting as a comforting contrast to the cold air brushing against your skin through the open window. A cigarette lay between his fingers, adorned by the gold wedding band that shimmered in the moonlight. Smoke drifted out of his mouth, conjuring into the vast world that lay just outside the glass windows of your small apartment.

It was nights like these you both preferred to remember. Your eyes flickered to him, messy hair and a gentle calm that settled over his shoulders. The moonlight complimented him like an artist painting their lover. It masked him in a way that made it seem almost impossible; he wasn’t ripped from a statue or some type of painting. You could’ve gotten lost in his presence if it weren’t for the gentle circles his thumb pressed into your shoulder.

“Darling,” you called out in a soft mutter, your voice seemingly throwing him deep out of thought.

“Yes?” he answered, not breaking away from his gaze out the window and offering a puff of his cigarette to you.

When you shook your head, he let himself have another drag, letting the smoke filter out through the window instead of getting it onto you.

“You know what I’d like?”

His eyes glanced in your direction; he could’ve framed the sight on his goddamn wall. The gentle caress of your stare graced his vision, and quickly, he became weak.

“What?”

“A great big chocolate ice cream soda”

When the words left your mouth you caught the sides of Joe’s lips quirking up into a smile. Glancing out the window before replying.

“Huh, well, I’m afraid it’s too late for that.” He let out another puff of smoke from the cigarette sitting idly in his hold. “The lights just went out in the drugstore across the street.”

“Closing? What time is it?” you inquired.

Taking a sideways glance at the clock, he squinted to read the thin black numbers etched onto the machine.

“Well, it’s after one thirty, baby.”

“One thirty?” You parroted.

“One thirty,” he added, pressing out the bud into the ashtray he had set on the windowsill.

His now free hand moved to interlock with yours, his finger dragging over the wedding band on your ring finger. He loved that thing to death—because to him it was a reminder that he was yours. That you had said yes to him out of all people. That you were still there despite the disapproval from your family because you loved him.

You got married in the fall, after he came home from the war. Scarred and almost a new person, you still held his hand like he was untouched. Like he was too pure for the world that had thrust him into horrors that still watched him at night.

As much as he had changed, to you he had stayed the exact same as when he’d left. You loved him all the same; you loved him in a way he didn’t ever deserve. As much as he believes, you make it feel so good to be selfish.

With a soft grunt he pushed himself up, hands still interlocked as his lips pressed against the marks they had left along your neck. A hum of satisfaction left his mouth as your free hand tangled through his dark hair.

“One more?” He asked with an almost giddy grin.

You leaned your head back against the soft pillows, letting out a contented sigh as his lips worked their way around your skin.

“One more,” you replied.

With the soft agreement, his hand gently grasped at the plush below your thigh. Your leg hooked around his back as Joe’s lips moved away from your neck to capture your lips in a comforting embrace. On nights like these he liked to take his time, to enjoy the way the night lingered around you both and held you together. Your name fell from his lips like a prayer, something that seemed sacred. The whole time he made sure your hand stayed in his, thumb dragging over the skin as his head lay against the crook of your neck.

He could stay here forever, worshipping you like you deserve. Pleasing you with whatever you wanted—kisses, sex, whatever that chocolate thing was you wanted. He’d give it to you just so you’d show him that smile he’d die for.

The gentle early morning sun drew in from the open window. Your arm was draped over his chest as he stirred awake. He stopped squirming once he noticed the gentle rise and fall of your breathing. Lying comfortably against the mattress, he listened to the early morning ambiance. The gentle chirp of wind chimes swaying in the wind, birds singing just outside the window. It was only two years ago he was listening to the sound of kraut artillery; now he was listening to fucking wind chimes and his wife’s soft snores.

Joe had definitely kept you up too late for a work night. He’ll probably also be exhausted once he goes in, but he’d take thousands of sleepless nights if it meant being yours.

Your eyes slowly fluttered awake, a groan escaping your lips while you directed your face into his chest, attempting to avoid the harsh light from bullying your senses.

He pushed your hair away from your face, his calloused hands holding the same care as one would hold a delicate statue.

“Daring?” He called out, his voice deep and raspy. “Would you still like that ice cream scoop?”

For a moment, you hadn’t realized what he was on about. It took you a moment to reply before realizing he had taken that small comment in the dead of night and locked it into memory.

“Well. . .” You turned your head to watch him in the new morning light. “Yes, why?”

“I dunno, the drugstore should be open by now.” He replied, shrugging his shoulders. “I could get you some before work.”

A/N: I was listening to this song and had inspiration :D MAIN MASTERLIST | JOSEPH LIEBGOTT MASTERLIST

[zombiekennt]

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ JOSEPH LIEBGOTT MASTERLIST

ONESHOTS

Two sleepy people - Late nights with your husband

But I can't help the feeling (I could blow through the ceiling) - You never wanted to be a housewife, but when it's what you're "meant" to be, you can't help but crack beneath every expectation.

HEADCANNONS/DRABBLES

coming soon!!

SERIES

coming soon!!

MAIN MASTERLIST

[zombiekennt]

i fear im a chronic semi-colon and em dash user...

[zombiekennt]

omfg bro school is actually killing me rn all i want to do it like write 💔

[zombiekennt]

༄ .° ⏳ ✶ ⋆. MATTER OF TIME MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The first time Finn Shelby saw you, the snow had tickled your skin. The review of childhood had been entrapped in its own little bubble, as reality stayed at an arm's length. It was just them playing in the pure, driven snow, oblivious to life at home and the snowstorm that would be their future. Finn Shelby x implied poc!reader

ᴄᴜᴄᴋᴏᴏ ʙᴀʟʟᴇᴛ (ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ)

ᴄᴀꜱᴛʟᴇ ɪɴ ʜᴏʟʟʏᴡᴏᴏᴅ

ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ ɢɪʀʟ

ᴄʟᴏᴄᴋᴡᴏʀᴋ

ᴄᴀʀᴏᴜꜱᴇʟ

ꜱɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ

ꜱɪʟᴠᴇʀ ʟɪɴɪɴɢ

ᴍʀ. ᴇᴄʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴄ

ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ-ᴍᴇ-ɴᴏᴛ

ᴀ ᴄᴀᴜᴛɪᴏɴᴀʀʏ ᴛᴀʟᴇ

ᴄʟᴇᴀɴ ᴀɪʀ

ᴛᴏᴜɢʜ ʟᴜᴄᴋ

ꜱᴀʙᴏᴛᴀɢᴇ

ᴛᴏᴏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ, ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴀᴛᴇ

ꜱᴇᴇᴍꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴏʟᴅ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ

A/N: This may be very ooc for Finn and mostly everyone but I WILL TRY MY BEST TRUST!!

[cursed-carmine]

✴︎ RIBBON DIVIDERS

ﾉ Please reblog & credit if you use!

For different colors just send me an ask please!

WHEAT

SHADOW

PINK SKY

SPRING TIME

ICE COLD

[zombiekennt]

AHH THESE ARE SO BEAUTIFUL i’m definitely using these for my navigation post (((o(*°▽°*)o)))

[zombiekennt]

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ FINN SHELBY MASTERLIST

ONESHOTS

coming soon!!

HEADCANNONS/DRABBLES

coming soon!!

SERIES

Matter of time

[zombiekennt]

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ MASTERLIST

🚬┆Peaky Blinders .ᐟ

Finn shelby

Thomas shelby

Arthur shelby

John Shelby

Isaiah Jesus

Micheal Gray

Ada shelby

🪖┆Band of brothers .ᐟ

Lewis Nixon

Ronald Speirs

Richard Winters

Joseph Liebgott

Eugene "Doc" Roe

Joseph Toye

Denver “Bull” Randleman

William Guarnere

David Webster

Edward "Babe" Heffron

Donald Malarkey

Darrell "Shifty" Powers

📺┆Supernatural .ᐟ

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Castiel

📚┆Misc .ᐟ

Dallas Winston