#And Thomas has been slowly losing his shit thinking he's imagining the guy is still alive. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

specialagentsergio · 3 years ago

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rationalizations

rationalizations: a defense mechanism in which one makes up a false but reassuring explanation to explain their behavior and/or feelings to both themselves and others, thus avoiding the reality of why they are really acting or feeling as they do.

summary: You’re the psych evaluation for Spencer. You think he’s full of shit, so you refuse to sign his clearance form until he actually tells the truth.

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader

category: angst (happy ending)

content warnings: spencer’s canonical trauma, flashbacks, mentions of suicide and suicidal ideation, swearing

a/n: i wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins‘ enemies to lovers event. it’s not my favorite trope, but one of the prompts sparked inspiration for me. i also took a good amount of inspiration from meredith’s various therapy scenes in grey’s anatomy, so if some of it feels familiar, that’s why! i swear i intended to make this cute and funny, but, well… here we are lmao.

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

Spencer throws his bag onto his desk with a frustrated huff. It thumps loudly, startling JJ at her desk across from his. She gives him a sympathetic look regardless. “Still not cleared yet?”

“No!” Forgetting that it’s wheeled, he drops himself into his chair. It skids backwards and he has to scramble to grab something to keep from falling out of it.

“Careful there,” JJ says, trying valiantly to suppress a laugh. “That psychologist's got you really worked up, huh?”

“I don’t know what she wants from me!” he complains. “It’s been nearly a month! Hotch’s ex-wife was murdered by an unsub, but they cleared him. I was only shot in the neck.”

“I mean, that’s still kind of a big deal,” she says. “You could’ve died, from the gunshot, or from the nurse that tried to kill you afterwards.”

“Speaking of that nurse,” he starts, “Garcia is the one who shot him and she’s been a wreck over it. She insisted on going to the guy’s execution. But the therapist cleared her!”

“Penelope’s not in the field,” JJ points out.

He crosses his arms. “Still. This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot. That possibility is part of the job. It’s not like it came out of nowhere and I was completely unprepared for it.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Spence,” she says. “Just keep all of your appointments and I’m sure you’ll be cleared soon.”

He pulls a stack of papers on his desk towards him. Paperwork—one of the things he’s actually allowed to do. “I better be,” he mutters.

---

“And it was really scary, you know?” Spencer wipes at his eyes with a tissue. “Not knowing if I was going to live or die.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He takes a deep breath. “But… it’s over now. The preacher who shot me died in the same shootout. Owen McGregor, the leader of the corrupt deputies, died later that night, in another shootout. And Greg Baylor, the one who posed as a nurse and tried to kill me, was sentenced to death row and he’s gone now, too.”

His psychologist makes a note on the paper in front of her, but doesn’t say anything, so he continues.

“I… I feel better now, just letting that out.” He takes a new tissue and dries his nose. “I feel ready now. Ready to go back to work.”

She nods slowly, considering him. But she doesn’t even look towards her desk where the clearance form sits, frustrating him to no end. After five minutes of silence, he breaks.

“You can’t be serious.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve been coming to these sessions for over a month, and I’m still not cleared to be in the field. I…” He musters up more tears and makes sure his voice wavers during his next words. “I just don’t know what you want? I’ve tried everything.”

“No, you haven’t,” she says plainly.

He blinks in surprise, sending some of the crocodile tears down his cheeks. “What?”

She crosses her legs. “You’re full of shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not being honest with me, and I don’t think you’re being honest with yourself either,” she says. “You’re a great actor. I can see how you’ve gotten clearances easily before. But that stops with me.”

Spencer stares at her. “I don’t understand.”

She moves her notebook to the side. “What happened in Texas isn’t the first time your life’s been in danger. Why do you think that is?”

“Wh—that’s part of my job,” he argues, fake crying long since forgotten.

“Not to the extent that you take it. I’ve read your file,” she says. “You take unnecessary risks with regularity.”

The tissues crumple in his hand as he clenches it. “I do not.”

“Let’s go back to the beginning.”

“The beginning of what?”

“Of your career.” Yet she doesn’t take out his file, or look at her notes. She speaks from memory. “2005. The BAU is assisting with a hostage situation. You go into the train, posing as someone who is there to remove a microchip from the unsub, but the first thing you do? You take off your bulletproof vest.”

“Okay, clearly you don’t understand what the situation was,” Spencer cuts in. “Ted Bryar was suffering from a psychotic break. He was somewhat unpredictable, and he told me to take off the vest.”

“And you just listened?”

“He—he had a gun, and was threatening both me and the other passengers with it!” he says. “What was I supposed to do, not listen?”

“Uh, yeah,” she replies. “You easily played into his delusions just a few minutes later to distract him. Why not do that to keep yourself safe?”

“I was twenty-four and was running on adrenaline,” he says defensively. “And it was my first time doing something like that. You can’t expect me to think of everything.”

“You’re right, I can’t,” she agrees. “So let’s jump forward a few years. How about the time you approached a teenager who was wielding an assault rifle with no protection, not even your own firearm?” she challenges.

“You mean Owen Savage? That was a unique situation,” he protests. “I knew I could talk him down.”

“No, you didn’t. You thought you had a good chance, but there’s no way to be one hundred percent sure of that. He was volatile, and on a killing spree,” she counters. “You didn’t know if you’d succeed--”

“I did!” He startles himself by unconsciously raising his voice, but he doesn’t apologize. “I did, because….”

“Because you related to him,” she fills in. “And that’s fine. Having empathy for an unsub doesn’t suggest something’s wrong in and of itself. But you still put yourself, and the rest of your team, in danger, didn’t you?”

He crosses his arms. “I got that lecture from Hotch when it happened, okay?”

“So then why’d you confront an unsub alone a few years later in Miami?” she asks. “You didn’t even tell anyone where you were going. You left your vest behind and just ran off.”

“I was having a head—wait, how do you even know that happened?” he questions. “It wasn’t in the report.”

“Well, first of all, you just confirmed it,” she points out, and he wants to kick himself. “Secondly, I can read between the lines.”

“I was having a headache,” he repeats. “I wasn’t thinking all that clearly. I just knew Julio’s life was in immediate danger, so I went to help him.”

“Uh-huh. More recently,” she says, brushing past his excuse, “You confronted your girlfriend’s stalker without your vest or gun.”

Spencer’s getting angry now. “I was trying to save Maeve. She asked me to leave them behind.”

“And you simply listened. Do you see the pattern I’m drawing here, Dr. Reid?” she asks. “These are just a few of the instances that stand out. Time and time again, you put yourself in unnecessary danger. So I’ll ask you again. Why do you think that is?”

Spencer looks over her—really looks over her, trying to understand what she’s getting at. “Are… are you suggesting that I’m suicidal?” he asks quietly.

She looks him straight in the eye. “You don’t act like someone who wants to be alive.”

It’s like she set off a bomb in his brain. Memories, and the feelings attached to them, emerge—Elle handcuffed to a seat, a teenager with a rifle, a blinding headache, Maeve and blood on the warehouse floor.

“Here’s what I see,” she says. “I see a man who’s been through so, so much. Your mother is mentally ill, your father left--”

His father is packing a suitcase. Spencer doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do or say, so he falls back on what he knows.

“Statistically, children who grow up in two-parent households attain three more years of higher education than children from single-parent households.”

It doesn’t help. “We’re not statistics, Spencer.”

“Your file says she’s staying at an institution, and with your father out of the picture, I can only assume you were the one who had her admitted--”

“Spencer, please don’t do this to me!” she cries as she’s escorted out of the house by Bennington Sanitarium’s transport staff.

“A few years into your work here at the FBI, you were kidnapped, tortured and drugged--”

He’s tired and cold and his whole body aches. Tobias—the real Tobias—looms over him with a syringe.

“Please. I don’t want it,” he pleads of his captor. “I don’t want it, please.”

The needle punctures his skin regardless.

“—you were held hostage by a cult leader--”

Emily sits across from him on the plane with a black eye. “What Cyrus did to me is not your fault.”

He pretends to agree.

“—you went through the death and reappearance of Agent Prentiss--”

He’s tried to make it clear to Jennifer that he wants to be left alone, but she won’t stop trying to talk about it with him, and he’s had enough.

“I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.”

“—and your girlfriend was shot in front of you.”

“Who’s Thomas Merton? Who is he?” Diane demands, gun pressed against Maeve’s head.

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us,” Maeve replies, and Spencer’s heart drops. Thomas Merton is Maeve’s way of saying goodbye—she’s giving up.

“Wait!” he cries out, but it’s too late.

“This is just some of the more traumatic stuff. And then there’s what happened last month, which is why you’re here. You present a face of not being bothered by all of this, because that’s what you’ve been doing all your life, but I think you are bothered. You really, really are. And you don’t want to admit to anyone just how much it all has affected you. Maybe you don’t even want yourself to know.” Her expression and tone of voice are certain.

Spencer can’t take it anymore. The whirlwind of emotions and memories is overwhelming.

“The number of times you’ve almost died is staggering--”

“Yeah, and sometimes I wish I had!” He glares at her, breathing heavily. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

But she doesn’t seem intimidated or alarmed at all. She leans back in her armchair. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

The response only serves to make him angrier. She questioned him relentlessly and made him admit something he swore in the dark hours of sleepless nights that he’d never think again, never voice, let alone admit to anyone. She forced it out of him, forced. She made him say it against his will.

So why does he feel a sense of relief?

“I…” Tears well up in his eyes—real ones this time. “I’m done,” he chokes out.

He pushes himself off of the couch and out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

---

He storms in Hotch’s office and demands to see a different psychologist. But she was one step ahead of him—a few hours before the appointment, she had emailed Hotch and told him that under no circumstances should Spencer be allowed to get a clearance from someone else.

“And you’re going to believe her?” he cries.

“She’s doing her job, Reid.”

“You barely know her! You’ve known me for a decade!”

“Yes, I have,” Hotch agrees. “And you’ve told me yourself that you’ve fooled psychologists and therapists before. So if this one is saying you’re not ready yet, I’m inclined to believe her.”

Spencer just stares at him, but as usual, Hotch doesn’t blink.

“Unbelievable,” Spencer eventually mutters.

“Take the rest of the day off,” Hotch replies, glancing down at fists Spencer hadn’t realized he was clenching.

“Fine.”

Too agitated to stand in the elevator, he takes the stairs. As he stomps down them, he swears he’ll never go back to her office, even if it means never going into the field again.

A week passes, then two, and he hasn’t seen the psychologist since. But he doesn’t feel any better—he actually feels worse. It’s like her words broke a dam in his mind, in his gut, and feelings of unease and uncertainty won’t pass. It keeps him up at night. Her words echo in his head. “You don’t act like someone who wants to be alive.”

Spencer’s had yet another sleepless night and is struggling not to doze off at his desk despite the coffee he’s drinking. He stands up with the intention of splashing some water from the bathroom sink on his face, but his feet take him somewhere else.

He stares at the nameplate on the door. He swore he’d never go back, yet he feels compelled to knock.

It only takes her a few moments to answer. “Dr. Reid. Can I help you?” she asks.

“I…” He sighs. “Are you busy?”

“No. Come on in.” She steps to the side, opening the door wider to let him pass. He sits down on the couch.

She waits patiently. She doesn’t rush him. She lets him speak first.

He wrings his hands in his lap, staring down at them. “Something you said is bothering me.”

“What was it?”

“About… living,” he admits quietly. “I… I think you might have been right.”

When he gets the courage to glance up at her, he finds a soft smile on her face. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Spencer hadn’t realized he was expecting judgment and disdain until it didn’t happen. His shoulders slump down in relief. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I think I would.”

---

“You’re still thinking about her, aren’t you?”

Spencer looks up from his paperwork, slightly out of it, to find Derek watching him. His coworker had, indeed, caught him thinking about her again. His psychologist. Well, former psychologist. After his second session back with her, she’d handed over a clearance form and a referral to a therapist outside the bureau to see long-term.

“And you better follow up with that,” she’d told him, the corner of her mouth turning up despite her serious tone of voice. “I’ll know if you don’t.”

He’d promised that he would, and had followed through. But despite the progress he was making with the new therapist, he was feeling a little disappointed that he didn’t get to see her anymore. He only saw her in passing, sometimes in the elevator or walking down the hallways of the building. They would exchange hellos, she would ask how he was doing, then give him a little wave as she left. Each time his heart would skip a beat, and he’d feel an urge to follow her to wherever she was going.

Yet he hadn’t quite realized why he seemed to be preoccupied with her until a dream he had a few weeks ago—a dream in which he found himself kissing her. Despite being alone in his bedroom, he’d woken up feeling embarrassed. He promised himself that he would put her out of his mind. Having a crush on his psychologist? It was ridiculous.

But then he saw her in the elevator a few days later and he couldn’t help but analyze her body language. It was open, and she twirled her hair around a finger while she looked at him to ask him how he was. A few other people entered the elevator on the next floor, but her attention remained on him. They were subtle signs, but signs that he recognized nonetheless—signs of attraction. And once he started seeing them, he couldn’t stop.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spencer tells Derek, picking back up the pen he hadn’t noticed he dropped.

“You can’t pull that on me, kid,” he replies. “It’s your psychologist. You can’t stop thinking about her, can you?”

Spencer sighs. “So what if I can’t?”

“So go ask her out already!” Derek says like it’s obvious.

“You don’t think that’s just a little inappropriate?”

“You’re not seeing her as a client anymore, are you?” he points out. “Go for it, kid. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Spencer takes the advice—as soon as Derek said it, he knew he was right. He would regret not taking a chance on her and the connection he felt. Sure, she’d helped him with therapy, but it went deeper than that. It feels like she knows him.

He leaves the bullpen ten minutes early that evening, hoping to catch her before she leaves for the day. On her doorstep, he feels just as nervous as he did on the day he admitted that she was right, but it’s a different kind of nervous. An excited nervous. He knocks on the door.

She’s surprised when she seems him. He watches as her pupils dilate, and it boosts his confidence. “Dr. Reid. Can I help you?”

“You can. I’d like to talk,” he says.

“Oh. Well, I guess I could do that,” she says. “I thought things were going well with the therapist I referred you to, though.”

He shakes his head. “No, I don’t mean I want an appointment.”

Her eyebrows come together in confusion. “Okay, then, what do you want?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “I want to take you out to dinner.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I really like you, and I think we’re meant to be together,” he replies, voice softening a bit.

She pauses before answering. When she does, her voice is gentle. “Dr. Reid, sometimes a medical professional’s care can start to feel like affection over a period of time, but--”

“No one has ever listened to me like you do,” he interrupts.

“That’s my job,” she points out.

“I’ve seen therapists before, but none of them have been like you,” he counters. “You understand me.”

She sighs. “Well, I’m glad I was a good fit and was able to help you. But that doesn’t mean that I see you as anything more than a client.”

“You’re lying.”

“Excuse me?”

“You do feel something more for me,” he says firmly, but then backtracks a little. “Well, I know you’re attracted to me at least.”

She blinks and shakes her head slightly, take aback. “Dr. Reid, this is not appropriate--”

“Please call me Spencer,” he says, then jumps into his explanation. “See, when we’re attracted to someone, our bodies display involuntary signals, and I’ve seen you do some of them when you’re around me. Whenever we run into each other here, your body will turn a little towards me and you’ll play with your hair. Your attention is almost entirely focused on me. And, when you see me, your pupils dilate. They did it when you opened the door just a few minutes ago. Oh, and I’m attracted to you, by the way,” he adds as he realizes how one-sided he’s been. “I imagine my pupils probably dilate when I see you, too.”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times, like she wants to speak but doesn’t know what to say. She looks flustered, and he wonders if maybe he’s pushed it too far or said too much, but he can’t turn back now. “So, please, let me take you out,” he says quietly. “Just… just give it a chance.”

She bites her lip and looks at the ground. There’s a crease between her eyebrows, which he’s come to learn means she’s thinking. She speaks seriously when she looks back up. “If I go out with you, I can’t treat you anymore. If you ever need another evaluation or session, you’d have to get it from someone else.”

“I know,” he says. “I get along well with the therapist you referred me to, though. And having to get clearance from a different psychologist at the bureau is something I’m willing to give up in favor of getting to know you better.”

She considers him. “You’re serious about this,” she states.

It’s not a question, but he answers it anyways. “I am.”

She tilts her head to the side, eyes unfocusing as she ponders the situation. Eventually, she says, “Let me think about it.”

It’s not exactly the answer he was hoping for, but he’ll take it.

---

It’s only six PM, but Spencer is already exhausted. He unlocks his apartment door, fully intending to collapse onto his bed, but instead receives a pleasant surprise in the form of his girlfriend waiting for him on the couch. He can’t help but smile.

“Sweetie, what are you doing here?” he asks, then adds, “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Penelope told me it was a bit of a rough case,” she replies. “And I missed you.”

She holds out her arms and he takes the invitation, joining her on the couch and laying down between her legs, placing his head on her chest. “I missed you, too.”

Her next words are overly familiar. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hey, we agreed to no therapy,” he says. “Something about I can’t be your client anymore?”

She huffs. “This isn’t therapy. This is being a good partner.”

Spencer smiles into the fabric of her shirt, snuggling in closer. “I know, I’m just teasing you. I don’t need to talk about the case,” he says, finally answering her original question. “I feel fine now that I’m here with you.”

She lets out a pleased hum and starts running her fingers through his hair. “I ordered take-out for dinner, by the way.”

“Where from?”

“You know where.”

A wide grin spreads across his face. She must have ordered take-out from the restaurant he took her to on their first date. He lifts his head to look her in the eye. “Aren’t you glad you said yes to me all those months ago?”

“Oh, I suppose,” she says with pretend annoyance, rolling her eyes.

Then she kisses him.

Spencer’s never been so happy to be alive.

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

tell me what you thought here!

please note that i DO NOT ENDORSE asking out your therapist/former therapist. this is fanfiction. thank you.

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor , @spencerreid9

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #angst #my fic #i just cannot stop myself from writing about mental health issues and treatment can i

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bitchkay · 2 years ago

Note

Can we maybe get the headcanons of Grayson and Thoma? I think those are the last two left but I’m not 100% sure 😅

Yup! Those are two of the last ones but there's one(1)☝🏽 more left😼

I already know no one gonna guess it so I may just post it separately, it's Zev Avari. idk it's something about Avaris that aren't Guy that got me woo😍😍

I can't think of anyone else that wouldn't be like completely random or that we me don't know enough about or care enough about

Shit unless you want me to talk bout the Kings and shi--

NSFW headcanons for court of darkness~

Rating: Explicit(18+ mdni)

He a boobie man.

Look at him and tell me right now this man doesn't like tits.

You can't.

He loves the feel of boobs in his hands

Big, small, or none at all, Grayson has his hands on your chest

Uses them as handlebars when he hits it from the back

Grayson also a pussy addict

I ain't read one event where he doesn't go down on you and honestly purrr

Uses boobs as handlebars when he eats it from the back

Grayson absolutely worships your body

He treats you like a god, an absolute celestial being

You absolutely come first with him (👀)

He has to take care of you before he even thinks of getting himself off

Your sex faces make him so CRAZY

A slut for eye contact.

No matter what yall doing he can't help but look up at your face

Grayson looking up at you with your clit sucked between his lips while you hold his hair back

Grayson loves fondling your boobs while he kisses you

Cus first of all, kissing you⁉️⁉️ two handfulls of breast⁉️⁉️

He's in heaven

He loves when he's fucking you and you loosing your mind

I'm talking back arching, voice cracking, scratching the pillows, ‼trying to fuck him back‼

the most erotic sight he's ever witnessed.

The sight of you responding so well to him will immediately make him cum

Your sex faces are so cute🥺

Yes pillow under your lower back however he's holding you up all on his own pulling you into his thrusts

Listen Grayson shares a wall with Fenn

Imagine if- imma stop.

Grayson has an 8 inch dick.

2 inches wide.

Watching him slowly stretch you out on his cock will never not make his breath hitch.

Grayson is such a sweetheart🥺

When he hears Roy enter the room next door he covers your mouth to muffle your moans for you🥺🥺 so sweet❤

Won't openly admit how much he likes doggy style but with the way he be manhandling you onto your stomach yea… yea

Uses boobs as handlebars when he hits it from the back

No matter what position this man will have his hands on your boobs

Boobs are boobs.😐

Don't you dare get insecure with your boobs around him or your just asking for him to breastfeed suck them

Hickeys all over your chest and thighs

His tongue stay lapping all over your body

Loves cumming inside you

Lowkey has a breeding kink but knows how to hold back

Still cums inside tho

Remember. The Bertholdt birth control😌

Wants to see you beautifully swollen with his child and your breasts deliciously filled with milk

Grayson would drink your titty milk.

Won't vocalize this tho

Not until your ready to settle down

When you are ready to settle down and have a couple booger babies kids he loses control

Starts babbling how he's been waiting so long to breed you, he can't wait to make you a mommy, how you'll make him a daddy, how gorgeous you'd look swollen with his kids

He's promising you the world and then some while he's fucking his cum into you

He's worse than drunk in this moment

Y'all read his Chance at Eternity… yea. Yea. That's exactly where this came from.

Kinda like Roy with exhibitionist tendencies but will never even try to fuck you in public

Yall fucked against his room door with the idea of Roy on the other side, he wasn't but not knowing when Roy was coming back added a certain risk factor that got him hard asf

I am in love with him👁👁

Smiling the whole time❤

Has this absolutely slap happy expression on his face cus it feels so good to be this close to you

Is kissing your cheeks constantly, telling you how much he loves you, how it feels to be inside you, he's just so overwhelmingly happy

Praising you so much

Seeks validation - wants to know he's doing a good job/that you love him too

It's honestly such a cute moment

"..*kiss* I love you *kiss* you feel so good *kiss* you're so pretty *kiss* do you love me too, say you love me too *kiss* creator, you're so good.."

He's basically babbling all he can while kiss your neck and cheeks, loving on you with his whole heart

Sex with Thoma would last so long--

Not even cus of his stamina(however his stamina is crazy)

Just cus he doesn't wanna be separate from you♡

He'd overstimulated himself into delirium just cus he doesn't want this to end

At this point you're both sticky with sweat and cum, Thoma isn't letting up

"... more.. please- you're too-... let me love you longer."

He'd damn near overstimulate himself to tears

He's holding your body flush to his, head buried in your neck, his hair messy, the tie on it long gone, choking on his moans as he succumbs to feeling of you squeezing his cock so good

He loves being inside you

You feel so good around him, so pillowy and wet, he could be inside you forever

Has genuinely fucked himself stupid with you and would do it again

If pussy drunk was a person.

Thoma would absolutely lose himself in you without even realizing it

Thoma loves eating your pussy

Just like Rio this man's a fucking glutton, he can put it away

Thoma would keep going until he's had his fill, fuck how many times you've cum

You're such a delectable treat🥰

Truely a delicacy😩😩

Fingers you while eating you out so he can suck and lick at his cream covered fingers

"Mmm… look at that… hhmmm you taste so good~"

Pretty goddamn vocal

Doesn't realize he's teasing you but once he does he's a bitch about it

You're flustered face is so cute to him🥺

Thoma looks like his dick is 7 inches

However...

It's actually 6 inches

Like if you look at him he just kinda looks like its 7 inches

It's not tho

Thoma and Knight have compared dick sizes before and got into a whole fight over who was bigger

He's got maybe 1½ of girth, not too thick

Thoma takes his hair out of the ponytail during sex.

At first it like "woah I've never seen your hair down before" then suddenly you got hearts in your eyes as his hair slightly damp with sweat sways as he plows into you or tickles your cheeks as he goes to kiss you

I can just imagine it- it's just-

That's actually really hot-😳

We love long haired bois😁👍🏽

He loves when you tug on his hair a little

not full on hair pulling but like your hands in his hair as he goes down on you tugging on his light colored stands, or his head buried in your neck and your holding him close or his sucking on your tongue, scratching his scalp

He holds your hips firmly as he thrusts into you watching your tits bouncing reactions

So amazed with your sex faces, feels his chest fill with pride at how good he's making you feel

You touch his cheeks and kiss his nose, telling how well he's doing and how good it feels to fully be his♡

A boyish, charming smirk tugs at Thoma's lips as he gazes down at you. “Yeah? ‘M all yers.”

He's so in love you♡

He really wants to be this connected to you forever

He loves making love to you

He just loves kissing you all over while loving your body to the core

He continues making love to you for hours, completely in love with you and the way his name sounds falling past your kiss-swollen lips.

Even when yall finished he doesn't wanna let go of you

He's super clingy post sex

He'll just tug you on top of him and wrap you up in his arms, pulling the blanket over the both of you

Yall spend the rest of the night talking

"I want to hold you close, tonight and always. I want to wake up next to you."

Yall have some real deep conversations post sex

He likes having his hair played with so if you scratch his scalp you'll ultimately end up lulling him to sleep♡

giving Thoma head rn brb.

I literally said I was gonna write Zev under Aquias post and it still wasn't yall first guess🤨🤨 /hj /nm

Y'all thought I was joking⁉️🤨

#grayson hotz #court of darkness thoma #cod thoma #court of darkness #headcanons #tw smut #voltage inc #smut #18+ minors dni #kay answers

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orionwhispers · 4 years ago

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Swan Song// Thomas Shelby 🍸

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

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

PART 1 PART 2

It was one of those dreamy midsummer nights.

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

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

It was perfect. Well - almost.

You missed him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That wasn’t the only reason though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That it has.”

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

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

“I’ve been busy.”

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

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

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

“The woman it’s for is worth it.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I decline.”

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

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

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

“Have you ever considered, Tom?”

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

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

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

“Yes. I have.”

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

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

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

—————————————————————

Your reaction was even better than he imagined.

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

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

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

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

“Everything’s in order.”

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

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

“It’s a celebration, brother.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re back.”

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

“And you should be in bed.”

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

You smelt of home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were going to be the death of him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Close your eyes.”

You huffed. “Is that really necessary?”

“Close ‘em.”

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

“Open.”

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s something else.”

“Tommy - ”

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

You inhaled sharply, feeling yourself floating.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Tommy. I love you.”

—————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laughed out loud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, that he liked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to be your what?”

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

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

“Yeah. Right.”

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

“Do I have to wear a dress?”

You grinned. “Only if you want to.”

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

“Alright. Okay. Yes! Bloody hell.”

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

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

You smiled, as sweet as spun sugar.

“Nope.”

—————————————————————-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mary? What is it?”

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

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

On July 20th

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

The wedding of the century!

————————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright you two, no time to lose!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. Fuck off, both of you.”

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

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

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

“Fuck tradition.”

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

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

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

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

“Alright. Bloody hell, fine.”

“Good decision brother.” Arthur said,

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

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

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

“Cmon, love, lets go.”

“Wait.”

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

“Be safe. Alright? I love you.”

“I love you.”

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

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

Every single one of them involved drinking.

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

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

“Hm?”

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

———————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh! Oh! I’m so sorry!”

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

————————————————————-

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

“Not having second thoughts are we?”

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

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

“I should be asking you the same question.”

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

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

“Bloody hell! Is he alright?”

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

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

“Wait! It’s after midnight!”

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

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

“(Y/N).”

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

You heard an exasperated laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

“She doesn’t scare me.”

“She should.”

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

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

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

“Do you think she’ll come?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think she will.”

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

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

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

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

————————————————————————

Polly let you sleep in until 8.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re glowing!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had never seen Polly cry.

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

“Thank you for making my boys so happy.”

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

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

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

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

“I’ve left the car running.”

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

“Just in case.” He continued.

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

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

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

“Really, (Y/N). You look... wow.”

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

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

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

“I wanted to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can handle her.”

“Can you?”

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

“It looks perfect.”

“I love it Michael.”

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

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

A moment of silence, and then:

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

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

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

————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were smitten, and so was he.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————————————————————-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————————————————-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He made all his men stay on guard, shut down the gambling and horse racing in the garden and made every single person who worked for him stay on red alert. Perhaps he was over reacting but he would never admit that, better to be overly cautious than have something happen to you. After doing laps of the house, checking on the cooks and gritting his teeth through drunken chats with whoever managed to grab him, he finally made his way back to you.

There you were. Face lit up under the candlelight, eyes tired but still sparkling, obviously exhausted but still enjoying the conversation, wanting to keep everyone happy. You looked ethereal. And for a moment he just watched you from the doorway, captivated by the movement of your hands, the bow of your lips, the way that you formed your words, so careful and light.

Alfie noticed him straight away, smiling cheekily as he pulled you into him. “Mrs Shelby.” He said, putting emphasis on both of the words and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. It was crazy how he could rile Tommy up more than anyone without being tipsy or high, somehow knowing how to push all of his buttons. “If you’re ever in London right, come to the bakery. I’ll show you a good time.”

You rolled your eyes at him, instantly knowing his game. You followed his gaze and saw the man you loved, your husband, watching you from the doorway.

“Tommy.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” He said firmly, brushing Alfie’s hand off you a little harder than he needed to. “I need to borrow my wife.”

God. Were you ever going to get used to him calling you that?

His hand slipped into yours and you melted, his lips grazing your ear lobe, deep accent rumbling like waves. “Cmon, lets go outside.”

You would have followed him anywhere, to the edge of the world if he had looked at you the way he was now, with those goddamn sky blue eyes and that smug, boyish grin.

Instead he led you through the party, playfully tugging on your hand as you both ran, desperate for nobody to see either of you and try to trap you in another mind numbing discussion. He took you through the servants entrance in the kitchen and into the courtyard, one of your favourite areas of the gardens. It was beautiful sculpted, with its high, emerald green bushes and intricately crafted pots and flower beds. You moved towards the fountain in the middle, surrounded by the rows of lilac and salmon tulips that swayed like ballet dancers in the wind.

He cleared his throat as you watched the water drip and fall and ripple down the stem of the fountain, the night sky reflected across it like a painting. It wasn’t chilly out but still he wrapped his blazer across your shoulders, filling your senses with cinnamon and nicotine and whisky sours.

“I want to read you my vows.” He said.

You turned to face him, confused.

“I know we both said we weren’t writing them, and I haven’t, not really, but there are some things I need to say to you.”

You opened your mouth to speak but closed it, watching him under the moonlight, how beautiful and how strong and how vulnerable he seemed all at once. You could feel your heart beating rapidly, your belly coiling and twisting, somehow he always managed to knock you off balance. He came towards you, close enough you could see the faint scars on his face from fights he had both won and lost, see the brilliance in his eyes and the sadness that always seemed to linger deep down in them, the curve of his lips and the sharpness of his teeth, the way that they had clenched around your heart and never let go.

“I deserve a lot of bad things. I do bad things, and I always thought that everything good would be taken away from me. I wasn’t born into a life like this, I’ve worked hard and given my blood sweat and tears to live like this, to get the things I have now. I’ve spent a lot of nights alone. Fuck, I’ve... felt alone since the moment I got on that train to France, and ever since I’ve been trying to find... something.”

“I thought it was all of this, but maybe it isn’t. I was always searching for the next big thing, the next move on the chessboard, the next city to take over. I didn’t realise how none of it made me happy until I walked into the Garrison the day you came here.”

A pause. A beat of silence.

“Look, I’m not the most articulate man, but God, I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you since the very first moment that I saw you. And - and - ” His voice crackles, fizzles out like a firework. “That day that I almost lost you, that nearly fucking killed me. That was when I realised that you were the thing I was searching for. You’re it for me.”

His hands on yours, pulling you in.

“For the first time in my life I don’t have to pretend to be happy. Whenever I see you, I just am. I can’t promise that I’m not going to fuck it up, but I’m trying, you make me want to try. You want to make me be better. You make me better.”

“I love you, (Y/N).”

He said, pressing his palm to your jawline, looking in your eyes with such sincerity and love that you felt as though you were floating.

“Oh, Tommy.” You breathed into the night, swept up and drowning in him, lost in lust and love and devotion, pressing your lips to his. “I love you.”

#tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #ts imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders oneshot #thomas shelby oneshot #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby x reader

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trashyswitch · 4 years ago

Text

The Strange Twin Brother

Remus was known as the strange, impulsive brother who liked causing havoc wherever he could. Here are some stories of times he traumatized people, worried people and teased people through his charmingly grotesque ways.

I'm dedicating this fanfic to a couple of my friends who LOVE dark humor.

This fanfic has some SUPER dark humor. Animal death and a couple subtle dirty jokes added in. A little bit of bondage is used as well. So read at your own risk, and enjoy the dark humor!

It was always known that Roman was the preppy, clean one of the twins while Remus was the weird, stinky twin. Roman was known for play productions, being the ultimate feminine gay and for bursting out in song randomly, while Remus was known for pulling pranks, being a less hairy Grinch and for reading smut out loud to the entire room.

But Remus was also known for just being strange in general. There have been some disturbing moments where Remus was seen covered in blood while eating a raw rabbit, some annoying moments where Remus would shout out truths about certain origins behind Disney movies, and strangely amusing moments where Remus would bring a skunk home, give it a collar and keep it as a pet despite Logan’s demands to let it loose.

And yet, Roman often chalked all these strange behaviours down to just ‘Remus being Remus’ and wouldn’t question his already screwed up inner thoughts.

Doesn’t mean things were all sunshine and rainbows...Roman would be super worried for Remus if that were the case!

One day, Roman and Patton were looking at scrapbooks of old times with the family. They were looking at Thomas’s public school wins when the front door had closed. Roman turned around, knowing that would be Remus.

“Hi Remus! Any luck?” Roman asked.

Suddenly, Remus jumped out into the living room with his bow and arrow, a blood bag and-

WAS THAT WOLF FUR?!

SHIT! PATTON’S THERE!

Roman yelped and quickly shoved Patton’s face into the scrapbook to keep the innocent boy from looking. “OW! ROMAN! WHAT’S WRONG?!” Patton shouted.

“Uuuuuh...Animal...Hide.” Roman replied.

“ANIMAL?” Patton reacted with a big smile as he tried to lift his head back up. “What kind of animal is it? Let go, Ro! I wanna see the animal!” Patton asked excitedly.

Roman bit his lip and sat himself in front of Patton’s view. “It’s dead, Pat! You don’t wanna see it!” Roman let him know.

Remus just laughed at that. “So seeing a dead wolf carcass is off limits, but seeing TONS of Roman ass is fine?” Remus teased.

Roman rolled his eyes at that. “My ass is covered, unlike that devastated wolf face you’re wearing as a hood.” Roman shot back as he continued to keep Patton’s face hidden from the still-bloody hide. “Whaaat are you gonna do with the hide?” Roman asked.

Remus hummed and tilted his head to the side, causing the animal head hood to follow to the side. “I’m thinking a coat! Or a bathrobe!” Remus declared excitedly.

“Why not both?” Roman asked.

Remus gasped and ran up to Roman, tackle-hugging him to the ground. “YOU’RE A GENIUS!” Remus shouted.

Roman flopped onto his back, a good 3 feet away from Patton. Pat lifted his head up, and quickly screamed and covered his eyes. It really was a wolf carcass! A still-bloody carcass at that! Patton picked up the scrapbook and covered up his own field of view with it.

Roman giggled and looked at the jaw-dropped wolf face that was still slightly bleeding. “Are you gonna remove the teeth and feed them through a thread?” Roman asked, pointing at the set of sharp wolf teeth.

“Probably, yeah.” Remus replied.

Remus smirked. “You should dip the ends of the teeth into some red paint to make it look like bloody teeth that just caught their meal.” Roman suggested.

“Hmmm...Paint? Or bloooood?” Remus asked.

Roman chuckled and shook his head. “Whatever you feel looks better.” Roman replied.

Remus hummed as he thought about how to do it. Suddenly, Remus snapped his bloody fingers! “How about I mix some blood INTO the paint! So it looks realistic AND sticks properly!” Remus declared.

Remus shrugged his shoulders. “You can try it. You have a closet full of craft stuff you can use.” Roman mentioned.

Remus gave Roman one last bloody, slightly furry hug. “Thank you Roman! You’re the best!” Remus declared happily before getting up and running to his room.

Roman chuckled and shook his head. What a nutjob. He looked over at Patton, who was sloooowly uncovering his face with the scrapbook. The poor guy looked traumatized beyond belief.

Logan was hanging out with Remus at a nearby park. Remus was casually sitting on a park bench with a stroller filled with a litter of tuxedo kittens. On the cup holder of the stroller was an extra large iced coffee and an abandoned knife and fork. While the kittens were left sleeping in the stroller with a cover over them, Remus was completely devouring a full rotisserie chicken with his bare, greasy hands.

Logan was sitting beside him, holding a fork and taking little bits of the chicken. Though Logan was growing slightly disgusted by Remus’s feral behaviour, Logan was able to maintain a calm, casual facial expression. Though people were staring at Remus with worry and disgust, Logan just smiled and waved at the people as they walked by them.

It was like seeing a polite englishman sitting beside a New Jerseyan! Complete opposites.

When the two of them were mostly alone, Logan slowly leaned over to Remus. “You’re creating quite the reputation here.” Logan whispered.

“I knothw!!” Remus replied proudly, his face fully stuffed with just chicken. The man didn’t even have anything to wash it down besides his iced coffee! Soon, Remus got up, moved the plate of cooked chicken carcass onto the bench, and picked up his Starbucks coffee with his dominant hand. He happily slurped down some of the ice-filled coffee and smiled with his cheeks all bunched up like a chipmunk.

“Imagine Patton seeing you right now. He would lose it.” Logan mentioned.

Remus let out a muffled giggle at that. “Gooth thin’ he’th noth!” Remus reacted, a slight bit of coffee sliding down his chin.

Logan just laughed at that and ate another piece of the chicken. It didn’t take long for Remus to resume scarfing down his chicken while taking sips of iced coffee in between. It was the perfect combination for a protein & caffeine diet.

Eventually, a guy with a black jacket, sunglasses and a large iced coffee of his own, started walking by. “What the fuck is that creature?! And WHY do I WANT ONE?!” they declared to their vest-wearing friend with a red tie.

Remus choked on his iced coffee and bursted out laughing. Logan smirked in amusement and looked up at the jacket boy. “This is Remus. He’s...definitely a strange one.” Logan introduced. “Also single.” Logan muttered.

The jacketed guy smirked and drank more of the iced coffee. “Come here often?” he asked the both of them.

Logan chuckled at that. “Quite often, yes.” he replied.

“Ith’ my ffffavorithe thpot-th!” Remus declared happily.

“Do you two have names?” Logan asked.

The jacket guy nodded. “I’m Remy. And this, my special loving beanie baby over here, is Emile.” they introduced.

“KITTENS!” Emile shouted excitedly, staring at the stroller.

Remus smiled and looked at Emile. “Yup! It’s a stroller filled with kittens.” Remus said proudly.

Emile picked up one of the tuxedo kittens and hugged it close. “It’s soooo CUUUTE!” Emile cooed.

Logan looked at Remus and raised an eyebrow. Remus looked at Logan back and nodded his head. “Would you like to keep it?” Logan asked.

Emile gasped and beamed at them. “REALLY?!” But Emile quickly composed himself. “I-I mean- Are you sure? I didn’t know they were for sale.” Emile admitted.

“They weren’t. But you look very happy with it!” Remus added. “That one’s a boy.” Remus added.

Emile looked at Remus again, still not sure if he should be taking a cat home. Remus nodded his head with an innocent smile. “I insist!” Remus replied.

Emile looked at Logan. “If you’re wondering, they have all been vaccinated from 8 weeks old till their age which is 5 weeks old.” Logan told Emile. “If you would like, we could cover your vaccination costs up until he reaches 4 months old.” Logan offered.

“Oh my gosh that offer sounds lovely! But I can pay for it myself. But could we meet at the veterinary clinic you take them to, so I can meet their vet and sign the adoption papers?” Emile asked.

Logan nodded. “Of course! I’ll give you the address.” Logan replied.

While Logan was doing that, Remus was looking at all the kittens and growing curious. But he was quickly interrupted by a wave in his direction. Remus and Emile’s locked long enough for Emile to mouth the words ‘thank you’ to him. Remus smiled and nodded back. But then: Remus picked up one of the kittens…

Remus just started staring dead into Emile’s eyes, and shoved the cat’s head into his own mouth. Still staring at Emile, he bit down on the cat, killing it instantly and swallowed it whole. Emile’s excitement for the cat quickly faded away and a big, terrified chill ran down Emile’s spine. It was here that Emile realized that Remus was most likely not in the right mind. Emile quickly patted Logan’s shoulder and pointed to Remus. “He- j-j-just- ateacat…” Emile said, struggling to even talk.

Logan looked over at Remus and immediately noticed the hanging tail that was sticking out of Remus’s mouth. Logan sighed. “How in the world are you still hungry after all that chicken?” Logan asked.

Remus laughed. “I just am!”

Emile hesitantly kept the cat they had just been given, and made a mental note to never let Remus hold their cat. EVER.

A good while later, Patton and Janus were cleaning the house while Remus and Roman were coloring in the kitchen. They both had a cup of water each, and one pack of markers laying in front of them at the table to share. Though only Remus was using all the colors due to the boy’s...strange habit of bleaching them and sucking on them.

Remus was currently drawing a blender filled with green gunk mixed with what he assumed to be blood, and something white. Whether it was milk, bone bits, drugs or...something else; no one but Remus could tell you. All they knew was that some of the green gunk was spilling out the top corners of the blender lid.

Meanwhile, Roman was drawing a completely white picture of a gigantic dog surrounding a bunch of tiny people. But the dog was not like Clifford the Big Red Dog. It was a fluffy white pomeranian! And the pomeranian had a...saxophone? It even had the word *Bork* written beside the mouth.

Wait, was that Gabe the Dog?

Remus giggled at the picture of Gabe the dog, and made a little high-pitched ‘BORK’ sound. Roman bursted out laughing at that and made an evil old hag cackle. Remus wheezed at the cackle while Patton was giggling and shaking his head at the two.

Soon, Logan walked into the room with a smirk. “Why do I hear dogs and evil witches in here?” Logan asked.

Remus and Roman both had to stop their coloring and drawing to lean back and laugh their heads off.

Logan sat down at the table as well and continued to read the astronomy book he had walked out with. But Logan quickly closed it as he cringed at the strong smell of bleach in the kitchen. “Patton, you need to stop using so much bleach.” Logan told him.

Patton turned around. “Come on, Logan, it’s not that bad. I didn’t even clean over there!�� Patton reacted.

Logan tilted his head. “Are you sure you didn’t? Because It smells like you cleaned the table with it.” Logan told him.

Patton huffed and put his cloth-covered hand on his own hip. “I’m positive, Logan.”

Logan rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the bleachy smell. But it was not easy. Soon, Logan rubbed his finger on the table and smelled it.

Nope. No bleach.

He rubbed his finger on the windows and discovered that there was no bleach used there either. So, Logan looked around. “Where is that bleach smell coming from?” Logan asked as he followed his nose like a composed dog. Logan followed it till he looked down at the cups and markers. Logan sighed. “You weren’t using bleach on the markers again, I hope…” Logan asked Remus.

“Nope! Not today!” Remus replied proudly.

Logan looked at the cups and lifted them up. He smelled Roman’s cup first -much to Roman’s dismay- and placed it down.

Just water.

But then Logan lifted up Remus’s cup and smelled it:

Logan pulled his head back and coughed violently. Then he widened his eyes when he realized that half the water was already drunk!

Logan slammed the cup onto the table. “Remus.” Logan asked calmly.

Remus looked up at Logan with his teeth showing widely. “Yeeeessss?”

Logan cleared his throat. “Do you remember what we taught you about what bleach does to your digestive system?” Logan asked.

Patton gasped and threw his cloth onto the ground. “REMUS!”

Remus stifled a laugh. “Yes. I don’t remember exactly what happens, but I do remember you mentioning...death?” Remus replied.

Logan sighed and rubbed the top of his nose...only for him to quickly move his fingers away from his face out of fear of getting bleach droplets into his eyes. Then, Logan took the cup and dumped the bleach down the sink. “No more drinking bleach, Remus. It is disgusting and it can easily kill you.” Logan ordered.

Remus slowly lifted up a silver flask. “One new thing to learn about!”

Roman widened his eyes. “PATTON! REMUS HAS A FLASK!” Roman shouted.

Patton sprinted to the rescue and took the flask. “What have we told you about alcohol?! Alcohol for you, is strictly off limits! Remember what happened the last time you drank?” Patton ordered.

“The best experience of my LIFETIME?!” Remus declared excitedly.

Logan dumped the cup of water into the sink. “May the orphan children rest in peace.”

Remus bursted out in evil, proud cackles. Patton brought the flask to the sink and dumped out what he assumed to be alcohol. But much to his surprise: it was clear!

...and reeked of bleach.

Logan pulled out a baby bottle, dumped some milk into it and shoved the baby bottle into Remus’s mouth. “Drink up. Flush the bleach out of your system before your stomach and intestines burn.” Logan ordered.

Remus whined and pouted. Roman giggled at the look of a baby bottle in his grown brother’s mouth, and continued to outline the saxophone. “I’m done!” Roman declared, showing off his picture to Patton and Janus.

Remus pulled the baby bottle out of his mouth and showed off his picture as well. “I’m done as well!”

Both Patton, Janus and Logan enjoyed seeing the pictures they drew, and updated the fridge drawings. Patton would eventually scrapbook those pictures and show them off to Thomas.

One day around Halloween time, Roman was looking around for Remus in his room. But he was nowhere to be found. But things soon became more clear once he found a lined page with a creepy-looking drawing on it. Roman giggled and looked around. “Very funny, Remus! I know what your costume is now!” Roman teased.

Roman received no response. So, Roman turned the page around and continued looking around. “Remus, quit being secretive.” Roman ordered. Like he guessed though, Remus didn’t come out.

So, Roman followed the page’s advice and put the page into his pocket. Roman opened a drawer in the room that held a flashlight. He pulled it out, turned it on and started looking around. So far, there was nothing.

He looked around for another page or another clue to Remus’s location. Little did he realize that all he had to do...was look behind him…

Roman suddenly SCREAMED and threw the flashlight into the air! Something had wrapped around his feet and was now lifting him up! Roman shouted and grabbed at any surfaces he could, to get away. “AAAAAH! REMUS?! LET GO!” Roman shouted.

A static noise started filling Roman’s ears and a static-y image of Slenderman started getting closer and closer to Roman. Roman’s fear grew as the faceless being suddenly grew a mouth and teeth, and GROWLED loudly at him.

Next, another pair of tentacles grabbed Roman’s arms and waist, and lifted him upright. Roman gulped and pulled on the restraints, with no avail. He was utterly and truly, fucked.

Quickly, more tentacles summoned themselves from out of nowhere, and started wiggling and fluttering on his armpits, feet and lower back. Roman jumped, squeezed his eyes shut and tried to move away from the tickly tentacles as a wobbly smile grew onto his face. The tentacles wiggled and teased his armpits the most, taking advantage of just how vulnerable they were in this moment.

Roman took one desperate look at the tickling tentacles and threw his head back as the tentacles at the feet, suddenly found his toes! “Hehehehehehehey! Quihihihihit ihihihit Rehehehemuhuhuhus!” Roman giggled.

The tentacles at his lower back, started drawing up and down his spine. This caused Roman to arch and wiggle his back more. But things got even worse the moment four tentacles started tickling both his armpits! Roman squealed loudly and squeezed his fists as laughter and snorts started leaving his mouth! He couldn’t even try to cover up his mouth in any way because his hands were tied! Literally!

Then, everything quickly hit the fan the moment Remus’s tongue reached his ear. Roman guffawed and snorted at that! Roman squealed with laughter! One one hand, all Roman could think was just how disgusting and slimy it felt to have a tongue fluttering and ‘licking’ his ear! But HOLY HECK did it work! It was so much more ticklish than his toes and armpits combined!

Roman snorted again. “LEHEHEHET MEHEHEHEHE GOOOHOHOHO!” Roman begged.

The single tentacle that tickled Roman’s back, started writing letters on his lower back!

[Tickle tickle tickle]

Roman whined and shook his head. How DARE!

[Coochy coochy coo coochy coochy coo]

Roman widened his eyes and tried to tug on his restraints one more time. Of course, he was unsuccessful. “STAHAHAHAHAHAP!” Roman begged loudly.

[No]

Roman shook his head. “COHOHOME OHOHOHOHON MAHAHAHAN!” Roman pleaded.

[Fine]

Roman let out a breath of relief as the tickling tentacles lessened dramatically. But unfortunately, the black tentacle that was writing on Roman’s back, was not gone.

[Wet willy time]

Roman widened his eyes. “W-WAIT-” Roman was interrupted by the evil tongue tickling his ear once again! Roman shrieked loudly and threw his head back with laughs, snorts and the occasional cackles! All the while, the messenger on his lower back was still writing messages to him!

[Surprise!]

Roman shook his head. “IHIHI THOHOHOUGHT YOHOHOU WEHEHEHERE DOHOHONE!” Roman yelled.

[Im not done.] It wrote. [More tickles for Roman]

Roman squeezed his eyes shut and just gave up on trying to get out. There was just no trying to save himself from the clutches of Remus the slenderman tickle monster!

[Tickle tickle Roman]

[Tickle tickle brother]

[sit back. Accept your fate]

Here’s the fanart!

Remus:

Roman:

(Drawn by a friend of mine)

#roman and remus are twins #chaotic remus #strange remus #dark comedy #background janus #super dark comedy #animal death #remus being remus #ticklefic #ler!remus #lee!roman

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petersasteria · 5 years ago

Text

The Four Men In My Life AU - 8

DISCLAIMER: *This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*

Pairing: Tom x Reader, Harry x Reader, Sam x Reader, Haz x Reader

Summary: Y/N has a shit love life. Mainly because of the four men in her life.

masterlist | series masterlist

* * * *

"So, how're you settling in your apartment?" Y/N's mother asks her, trying to get a peek of her daughter's dorm through the screen of Y/N's phone.

"I'm settling just fine here, mum. It's not fully decorated yet and I haven't finished unpacking. I'll send you pictures when I'm done with everything." Y/N smiles at her mum. She got a scholarship at a university miles away from home and it's her first year.

"Okay, well I have to go. Stay safe there. I love you and good luck!" Y/M/N smiles. Y/N smiles back and thanks her and tells her mum that she loves her and misses her. She hangs up and looks around with a sigh. "Alright Y/N. Let's get to work!" Y/N tells herself.

After hours of unpacking and tidying up, Y/N decided that she should probably get something to eat. It's already 3 o'clock in the afternoon after all and she totally missed lunch. She grabs her coat, phone, wallet, and keys before heading out.

Her apartment is just outside the campus. She didn't want to stay in a dorm and she wanted a place for herself for the first time. It wasn't ideal to be sharing it with anyone. Her apartment was just the right size. It was a studio apartment and it was a fresh start.

After her high school graduation, she didn't want her past to haunt her anymore so, upon receiving a scholarship at a prestigious university away from home (and away from her dream university), she decided that it'd be nice to have a new environment. She decided then and there that it'd be a fresh start.

She spoke too soon, though.

She entered a small diner and she couldn't believe her eyes. It was Harrison Osterfield sitting in one of the booths.

She never really spoke to him except for that time when he totally destroyed her in front Tom. But now he was here, in the flesh.

He must've noticed someone staring at him so he looked up from the menu only to see Y/N not that far from him. He gives her a small smile before looking back at the menu.

Y/N pinched herself to check if she was dreaming, but she wasn't. Finally deciding to move from where she's standing, she approaches Harrison. "Harrison."

Harrison looks up from the menu and sees Y/N standing in front of him. "Y/N." he nods. "Would you like to take a seat?"

She didn't expect politeness from Harrison after he said all that shit to her face from years ago. Then again, they were in high school back then. They're in university now which means they're both adults now.

"Earth to Y/N." Harrison chuckles. "Do you want to sit?"

Y/N snaps out of it and nods before taking a seat in front of him. Harrison hands her the menu which Y/N gratefully takes. When both of them were ready to order, Harrison calls the waitress and tells her their orders.

"Your order will be ready fifteen to twenty minutes. Have a good day!" the waitress says before leaving.

The two awkwardly sit in silence and Y/N decides to break it. "So, uh, what're you here for? Like, what's your course?"

"Oh, um, medicine. I want to be a pediatrician." Harrison replies. "And you?"

"Theater. Broadway is the goal." Y/N smiles causing Harrison to smile too.

"That's amazing." Harrison says. "I didn't want to admit it back then, but you really did have an amazing voice. It doesn't surprise me that you want to pursue a career in Broadway."

"Thank you." Y/N smiles. "So, are we expecting three more boys?"

Harrison shakes his head, "It's just me who's attending university here. I'm staying in an apartment outside the campus."

"Same here."

Soon, their orders came as they catch up with each other.

It's been months since they caught up with each other and they've grown close with each other. They realized that what happened in the past didn't matter anymore. They were adults. They're good friends now. However, Y/N is slowly falling Harrison.

No one could blame her. Harrison was a catch. But she was still hurting from what happened with Sam and she didn't want to be hurt again.

"You're making a mistake again, Y/N/N." Y/F/N sighs through the phone. Y/N called her friend for advice after telling Y/F/N that she's starting to fall for Harrison.

"But maybe he's not like them." Y/N suggests.

"Don't be naive. If he's friends with those people, then he can do the same thing to you." Y/F/N explains. "Save yourself."

"But maybe he's different." Y/N says in a soft voice. "We're in college now. Maybe he changed. Besides, he didn't do anything wrong to me before."

"Um, sis aren't you forgetting what happened with Tom??" Y/F/N shrieks.

"Yeah, but that's it. Nothing else followed after that." Y/N tells her. It was a fact, though. Harrison never really bothered her. "He might be the one." Y/N adds.

"Okay, I'll cut you off right there, bitch." Y/F/N hisses. "The right person will come at the right time and I guarantee you that it isn't any of those four boys. So do yourself a favor and stop seeing Harrison. Like, with all the dignity you have left, cut ties with that group. Please."

Silence.

"I have to go and study now. I have finals tomorrow. I'll see you this weekend, okay?" Y/F/N says.

Y/N smiles, "Of course! Good luck! Bye." She hangs up the phone and sighs. She's starting to really like Harrison and something inside her brain is thinking that he might like her back. But something else tells her to not tell Harrison about her growing feelings for him.

So Harrison did like her back when she finally had the guts to tell him how she felt.

Not in the way she likes him, but he likes her as a friend. He didn't have the heart to reject such a sweet girl, so he figured he'd give her a chance. He asked her to be his girlfriend after three dates and she was so happy. They've been dating for nearly three years now and Harrison felt so fake, but he didn't want to lose the friendship he had with Y/N if he rejected her years ago. They were really getting along. Like, genuinely.

"You're fucked, mate." Sam laughs. His laugh echoing through Harrison's apartment. Harrison is currently on video call with Sam, Harry, and Tom.

"She's really really nice. I know it's too late, but I can now see why Tom liked her... in the beginning of their relationship at least." Harrison admits.

"Oh you mean the first few weeks of them being together, got it." Harry chuckles. "So, what'll you do?"

"I'll just tell her, I guess. Oh god, I don't even know." Harrison groans.

"You don't want to lose her, do you?" Tom asks his best mate, only starting to speak now. Sam claps, "Finally! I thought you lost your voice, Tom." Tom glares at his brother through the screen before turning his attention back to Harrison, "So answer me, Haz."

"No, I don't want to lose her. I'd really like to be friends with her." Harrison sighs.

"You'll lose her either way, mate. You'll lose her if you tell her. But if you keep it to yourself, she'll find out at some point and you'll lose her. You can't win here, mate. It's unfair enough that your love for her as a boyfriend isn't real, but letting that drag on for nearly three fucking years? That's messed up." Tom says.

"Well, thanks for coming to Tom's TED Talk." Harry pipes up.

"Shut up, Harry." a voice says. Sam and Harry didn't know who it was, but Tom and Harrison knew. Tom takes a deep breath and stares at his hands, "Hey Y/N. It's Tom."

Y/N stayed where you were standing as you and Harrison just stare at each other. "Hi Thomas."

"Oh, uh, I just remembered that I have to go to my part time job now. I have to go. Bye guys!" Sam quickly says before leaving the call and disconnecting.

"I have to, uh, study for my quiz tomorrow for my major subject. Bye!" Harry says frantically, disconnecting the call.

It's just Tom and Harrison now.

"Haz, mate, just tell her." Tom says in a hushed voice. "It's time." Harrison broke eye contact with Y/N to look at Tom. Harrison sighs and nods.

"Okay, I'll go now. Call me later. I have nothing to do anyway." Tom tells him. "Oh and Y/N, we should catch up sometime. I miss you; really, I do."

Harrison would be lying if he said he wasn't slightly jealous of Tom for having a good relationship with Y/N even after their break up that he caused.

"Sure. I still have the same number. Feel free to call me anytime." Y/N says, her gaze not leaving Harrison.

"Okay, that's great!" Tom smiles to himself. He looks at Harrison one more time before saying goodbye and disconnecting. Harrison turned off his laptop and prepared himself to look at Y/N.

"How- How long were you standing there?" Harrison asks. "I didn't hear you come in." he chuckles lightly.

"I've been here since Tom's, as what Harry said, TED Talk." Y/N said, crossing her arms. "I was going to clap, but I wanted my presence to be a surprise. Happy to say that I got the reaction I wanted."

Harrison sighs, "I'm really sorry."

"When were you planning on telling me? Or did you plan on telling me at all?" Y/N asks, anger in her voice.

"Of course I planned on telling you!"

"Then when did you plan on telling me, huh?!" tears were now streaming freely down Y/N's cheeks. "When we're engaged? When we're married? When he have kids? When?"

Harrison's guilt rises when he realizes that Y/N wanted him to be with her in the future. But it's obvious that Harrison didn't want the same thing.

"I would've accepted a rejection. It's better than this situation right now." she cries. She turns to leave but stops in her tracks. She looked at him one last time and says, "You know what sucks? I really thought I'd have this bright future with you. You're just like the three of them."

Then she left.

Harrison Osterfield was the man who dated Y/N Y/L/N because he felt pity on her having to like him even though he didn't feel the same.

* * * *

-not proofread-

Taglist: @fanficparker @myblueleatherbag @sweetdespairbarnes @tommysparker @lcvelyparkers

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagines #harrison osterfield fanfiction #harrison osterfield fanfic #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield one shots #haz osterfield #haz osterfield imagines #haz osterfield fanfiction #haz osterfield fanfic #haz osterfield fic #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x y/n #haz osterfield one shots #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

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dottie-wan-kenobi · 5 years ago

Link

A @batfam-christmas-stocking fic written for @lurkinglurkerwholurks!! happy holidays <3

----

“You guys really don’t have to do all this for me,” Duke says as he and Alfred step out of the suit fitting place. His words are part uncomfortable and part resigned. Jason and Steph have both already talked to him about what it’s like to be a Wayne kid—to have all that money at his disposal, and adults around who will spend it on him without a second thought—but actually living it is different.

There’s some Wayne Foundation event happening soon, and Duke is expected to go. He’s also expected to have a suit, and since he hasn’t had to wear one since his aunt’s funeral way back when he was a little kid, Alfred made plans for him to get one. Several ones, actually, but today he only tried on the one meant for the upcoming party.

Alfred slips the cuff links they brought along back into their box. “It’s no matter, Master Duke,” he says, casually handing the box over like it doesn’t hold very expensive cuff links that Thomas Wayne once wore. “All young men need a well-fitting suit.”

Staring down at the box in his hands, he asks, “But one so… much?”

After a brief moment, Alfred closes Duke’s fingers over the box and guides him gently by the wrist to slip it into his jacket pocket. They start walking, and Alfred pats his shoulder once. “So much, sir? If you mean the cost, I assure you, this is hardly a drop in the bucket. Master Dick in particular has gone through a great many suits in his lifetime, and there have been no repercussions.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, though.” Feeling like he can confide some in the older man, Duke says, “I don’t know, it’s just…. That thing cost so much money, and I’m only going to wear it once? It just seems like a waste.”

“If you’d like, you may certainly wear it more than once. People will talk, of course, if you do so more than once every few months, but the opinions of others should have no consequence on how you live your life, Master Duke.”

“I guess. Hey, where are we going? The car’s that way.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I’m afraid I forgot to tell you. There’s another stop that needs to be made at Trader Joe’s.”

Duke makes a face. That sounds boring, and he’s ready to go home. “How long do you think you’ll be?”

“Not long at all.”

“Can I like, do some window shopping then? I won’t go too far, I just haven’t seen much of this part of Gotham, you know? I figure some exploring will help me with my, uh, job.”

Knowingly, Alfred agrees. Soon enough, they get there, and Alfred promises to not dilly-dally. Shrugging, Duke waits until he’s inside to wander off, glancing at the shop windows. One is a toy store, and though Duke is sixteen, much too old to play with toys, he finds himself standing there for a while, staring at all the colorful and expensive items.

It’s weird, knowing that if he asked for something inside, he could get it easily. His life has never been like that—even before the orphanages and group homes, his parents’ jobs weren’t well paying enough that he could ever get something from this place. They did their best, and he can’t think of a holiday that went by where he wasn’t happy. The memories of his parents’ smiles, exhausted but content, are never far from his mind. But the facts are that this store would’ve probably always been out of their reach. And now, if he wanted, he could go and ask Alfred for some money, enough to get something from here, and Alfred wouldn’t say no. Maybe he’d say Duke needs to follow a certain rule, like only get what he can hold, but that would be it. He can’t imagine Alfred would say anything about only spending so much.

It’s different and kind of overwhelming, but he’s getting used to it, he thinks.

If Steph is to be believed, he might never be fully used to it, though. Honestly, Duke isn’t sure that’s a bad thing. He doesn’t want to lose sight of what it’s like to struggle, but at the same time, it’s nice not having to worry about it anymore.

Seeing two men hustling it down the street, he’s thrown from his thoughts. Relatively well dressed, though not anything like the suits Duke was just trying on, they seem mean and like the thugs he’s come into contact with through his day job as the Signal. Not the ones he’s really used to, the ones who he used to see when he was a kid, who rob people because they’re starving and there’s no other way to get money quick enough.

It’s somehow still surprising when they see him, standing there in a nice outfit and with a visibly expensive watch, and decide that he’s the one they’re going to target. Not that surprising, granted, but for some reason, he had thought crime wouldn’t be so bad here. The rich parts of Gotham always tout themselves as being “safer”, after all. He should know better by now.

They descend on him so fast it’s kind of impressive, honestly, or at least it would be if it weren’t extremely annoying. The taller of the two speaks first, his voice gravely and deep. “This is a mugging,” he says, pulling a gun from his pocket and aiming it at Duke’s chest. “You gonna make it easy on us, kid? ‘Cause me and my pal here got no issue doing this the hard way.”

The thing is, Duke is a civilian right now. Any other day, any other circumstances, he’d be suited up as The Signal, and he could deal with these losers easy as pie. He can easily envision how he could take them down—the shorter guy has a weapon, too, but he’s anxiously gripping it in his pocket. It’s probably not a gun, or he’d have brought it out when his friend did. Maybe a knife, or some other kind of blunt object. Which means that Duke could allow the tall guy to get close so Duke can disarm him, and punch him hard enough to knock him out before moving on to Shorty. No real threat of being shot, and whatever Shorty’s got, it shouldn’t be too hard to disarm him too. Duke is getting really good at these petty fights, enough that he doesn’t really feel threatened.

Except Duke can’t do anything. Duke Thomas, the civilian, is someone who isn’t supposed to know how to fight, just another rich wimp.

Raising his hands, he tries to seem weak. Like he’s scared and playing it off like he’s amused. There are layers to this shit, and he’s not about to fail at one of the easier parts of the job—acting. “W-what do you want? Money?”

“Your watch,” Shorty says. “And your jacket.”

“You got any weapons on you?” Tall Guy shifts his aim up and down, trying to be threatening.

“No,” Duke says honestly, but they don’t believe him. Pulling him roughly to a nearby alleyway, they pat his pockets, and when they find the box, Shorty slips it out and carefully examines it. It’s a nice box, old but hardly worn at all.

“Thought you said you don’t got any weapons,” Shorty growls, slowly opening the box while Tall Guy keeps the gun aimed at Duke. When Shorty sees the cuff links, he snorts, puts the lid back on, and slips it into his own pocket. Then he steps forward and keeps patting until he finds Duke’s wallet. “You richie-riches. Pah,” he says as he opens it up.

Duke can tell the moment he recognizes the name he sees on Duke’s driver’s license.

Duke Thomas is a name that’s becoming well known, same as all the other Wayne kids. He’s the only one who’s consistently been in the papers lately, though, since everyone is curious about the newest foster child.

“You one of them Waynes?” Shorty demands, tone harsher than the grin widening on his face would suggest. To Tall Guy, he says, “We should kidnap ‘im, man. Get a ransom offa Wayne. I hear he don’t mess around when it comes to the children.”

“You’re right,” a new voice, a familiar voice, interjects. “He doesn’t. And neither do I.”

As Tall Guy and Shorty turn their attentions to Alfred, Duke… doesn’t relax like he thought he might. Instead, he tenses, because how likely is it that Alfred is distracting him, blocking out the mouth of the alley, so Duke can have a chance to fight these losers? He knows Alfred isn’t helpless, but of the two of them, Duke is the one with more experience dealing with losers like these two.

With their backs to him, he drops his hands and starts to crouch into a fighting position.

Except…it turns out, Alfred doesn’t really need him to do anything. Tall Guy steps forward with the gun aimed high, his finger on the trigger. “Who’re you?” He demands, standing straight and tense as Alfred approaches. “The nanny?”

“The butler, actually. In any case, that is my grandson you’re threatening, and really, sir, simply so you can steal his watch?”

Tall Guy and Shorty don’t seem to know what to say. Shorty pulls out a knife.

Alfred disarms and knocks both of them out within a few minutes, and Duke hardly even has to help, just punches Shorty when he comes staggering over, dazed and in pain. A few punches is all it takes before Duke’s knocking the guy out. Before they leave the scene, he makes sure to retrieve the cuff links, not wanting to lose them.

They hurry back to the car, and once they’re both settled in their seats, on the road back to the Manor, Duke can’t keep quiet anymore. “Why did you do that? I could’ve handled it.”

“Yes, I have every faith you could have, Master Duke,” Alfred says. “But your identity must be protected. If this gets out, no one will be much surprised to hear that I fought them off. No suspicion will be slung at you. And even if that were not the case, you are family.”

“I’m only Bruce’s foster kid,” Duke refutes. It’s easy to think of the Waynes as family. It’s not as easy to think about his real parents, and what they would think about all this, what they would want for him. They would want him to be happy, he knows that, and he’s happy with Bruce. But he can’t ignore that his parents could still be out there somewhere, that for all everyone knows, this could be temporary. It doesn’t feel great to put distance between himself and the others, but right now, he kind of needs it.

“Yes, but still, you are family. You always will be, my boy. And while you are part of us, I will defend you. Unfortunately, you’ll just have to get used to it.” Alfred smiles, then, and though Duke is feeling a big mess of emotions, he can’t help but smile back. It felt really nice to be defended. He hasn’t always had someone who would do that, and even if in the past few years his friends have filled that role, he remembers being a young kid, no one in his corner once his parents were gone.

It’s a good, good feeling.

#bcs19 #duke thomas #alfred pennyworth #batfam #batfamily #batfam fic #fanfic #my writing #lurkinglurkerwholurks

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polygamyff · 5 years ago

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57. Part 3

I wish I could go in with him, but I can’t, I have Reign with me also, and she will not sit still “do you want me to watch you while you go in?” I said trying to supress my smile, Maurice side eyed me not impress with what I said “whatever, I can do this thank you” he opened the car door “what are you doing anyways, while I am here?” he looked over at me, his body half hanging out of the car “erm, Reign and I will spend some mother and daughter time, shopping of course. You will feel better Maurice, this is a good thing, ok?” Maurice nodded his head “well I shall leave you ladies to it, I will miss you all” Maurice pecked my lips “that is me going” he is so dramatic “it’s a blood transfusion Maurice, not brain surgery” Maurice leaned down looking into the car “you’re cheeky, not having it. Leave me be, this is big for me. You can take your none caring ass somewhere” he closed the car door, shaking my head smiling. He is feeling sorry for himself for no reason at all, it is a simple blood transfusion but Maurice is making sure he feels sorry for himself with this “oh Reign, what you think we should do?” turning in the front seat to look at her, she is so quiet but that is because her pacifier is in her mouth. My phone started to ring in my bag, reaching over on the backseat and grabbing my bag. Reign’ head popped forward “you are so judgemental looking at me like that” getting my phone out, she is thinking why am I getting my bag “oh ok” seeing Leon’ name on my phone, he is calling me. Answering the call “if it isn’t my boo thing” I said laughing down the phone “I had to check on my girlfriend, I am off work now. All for you and your wedding my baby. I actually was going to come to the home but then I remembered that mom is working, and I can imagine you may be out doing something?” he was coming to the home “well for a few hours I have free time on my hands, where would you like to go?” I have free time anyways “first of all, are you wearing heels?” he asked “not today” I wonder what he is thinking “let’s go to Oak Canyon Nature Center, Reign can see some nature and things and also it’s close. Shall I meet you there” that is cute “sure, I will meet you there. Don’t be late” I know his ass is always bad with timing.

Leon gagged, he is gagging but it is me changing this damn diaper, not him “imagine if you got shit on these leather seats” pulling Reign’ jeans up “I am glad she did it now and stop that. You are supposed to be her godparent!?” Leon laughed “well I put your dirty diaper in the trashcan, I did my bit for the day. I love this top baby” standing Reign up on the car seat as I fixed her jeans “baby girl, you are slaying with that Fendi. I love it, Uncle Leon loves it. You have such an elegant pretty face, you going to look like your mother. In school she flourished, I mean when I looked back on the pictures of us, we looked terrible” sitting Reign down “let mommy put shoes on now, I honestly cringe seeing those pictures, I had no right in flaunting my forehead like that. What did anyone see in me, I looked terrible” I do hate putting her shoes on when dressing Reign, it’s the shoes for me, it’s like I feel they don’t fit but they do, that is her size “I mean your genes, you got that beautiful black genes with that hint of Latin, it’s like an added spice” I snorted laughing “added spice, you’re stupid” shaking my head “also, I am glad Thomas is not your dad. He hates gays, he hated me. I spoke on anything he hated. I called him dad he hated it. I think he hated any man near you. I am gay and he hated me. Remember when he blew a fit over the fact I fell asleep in our bed? I was like I am not into boobs and pussy sir, and if he knew I seen your ass naked, what was he going to do. He was weird Robyn; I didn’t like him. Bad vibes for me” I groaned out “I hate these shoes, you got fat feet girl” I huffed out “you never did like him Leon, I did see why” he seemed like he didn’t like gays, I felt it but Leon is my best friend so fuck him.

Leon is so funny; he is embracing the stroller pushing part. Reign is so intrigued by everything but I keep having to stop her from picking things “ooohhh” she pointed at the dog walking by “that is not Khaleesi baby” she started walking towards the dog “Reign, no” rushing over and grabbing her arm “that is not Khaleesi ma’am. Look at this baby, oh wow. Pretty flowers” letting her arm go “she loves to check things out don’t she, it’s so cute to see. Like I wish she lived here because I don’t get to see her like I do. She is growing up so quickly. She out here walking like she got two left feet, love you boo” Reign walked by Leon and to the flowers she seen “Reign is trying to find her feet still, she is getting there but she is nosey. She likes to touch and likes to get to know things” Reign stopped and looked behind “we here girl, you go” Leon said, I am glad she checked before she continued “are you ready for another one? You seem really content, I like to see that” nodding my head slowly “I am happy, I wanted another baby, because I was broody for it so then I knew it was the best time. I am settled now in New York, I am happy to bring another big headed child” Leon cooed out “I am happy for you, it’s what you and Reign deserve, and I see the happiness in you. I feel like I disappointed you, and I probably did but I made a mistake” walking over to Reign slowly “I don’t have friends Leon, you know that so for me. You were that person, so close to meand for you to not be this guy I knew, it hurt. This is the Leon I know, caring. No Reign, you don’t pull flowers” crouching down to her “I get it, and I feel like we do need to work on us but I am still the same Leon, just with added value” I laughed shaking my head.

Reign’ little ass is tired so she is in the stroller and we just sitting down on the patch of grass, when I mean patch of grass I mean Leon taking his jacket off and placing that on the ground so I can sit “you lucky I came with snacks, I ain’t stupid” I am glad Leon did I am hungry “this baby be making me feel a lot Leon, I think I am more emotional with this baby, so much. I just be crying, getting angry so easily at things. And then I am like oh wow what happened, it’s a mess. It’s different so maybe it is a boy? I want a boy, I can then hopefully if Maurice is in a good mood name him Romano, you know if my dad was here and shit was different my name would be Robyn Romano? Like how beautiful is that?” Leon’ eyes widened “it adds a little spice to your name, mhmmm. I like that but it’s a beautiful name. I mean Reign-Texas and Romano Devenport? He can’t deny that” I clapped my hands “see! This is what I mean, that shit rhymes but Maurice. Knowing him, it will be something to do Marquis but I mean we can call him Romano Marquis Davenport but I will need to do the whole discussion thing with him, I have to make out I don’t have my heart set on it. Having a husband is hardwork though. My mom keeps telling me, make the man feel like he has input. It works but when I don’t do it, we argue but honestly if it were up to Maurice my daughter would be called Texas? I mean nigga, the fuck?” rolling my eyes as Leon laughed out “it’s like any man I guess, they love to feel that have that control. They are a weird specious” I chuckled “but Maurice is good, he lets me do what I need but he likes to have his input, which brings me to you and him. I want my friend and my husband to get on. I just, I haven’t told my mom that you both fell out but I just think if I can stop his ego, I can or may be able to get you both to speak if you want that?” I have to ask “he hates me Robyn, I know he does. He’s going to probably make me cry, I know he has mouth on him” I sighed out “he has, I told him you admitted to going out of your way to get back at him” Leon’ eyes widened “oh no, but at that moment I hated him along with you!” he spat, Leon is not happy that I told him.

Leon blew out air, he is not happy “Robyn, he is totally done with me now, I cannot go back. I am not sure if to just leave it. That alone is going to make him hate me, I don’t know” Leon has probably got a point “then let me speak to him and try, please?” Leon nodded his head “fine, I will let you try but maybe it has gone further then we thought now, it’s sad because I did like Maurice. He has made you happy but also sad with some of the things. I will if he decides to let me speak but I don’t see it, he is stubborn of course” nodding my head in agreement, he is right because Maurice is stubborn “he did say if you was around he would walk out, he would keep his distance but I would like to fix that. What hurt me was you didn’t speak to me, why didn’t you speak to me. Why run away from me!? Out of all people, you never left my side and then you did, I was hurt. I was losing my friend but you’re here now and I am happy. Look at us” I chuckled “yes, look at us. But I was scared, call it what you want but I just felt bad about it and then I didn’t want you to say were over in terms of friendship, but as soon as you text me the date, I booked time off. It’s about us, spending time together” Leon held my hand “come to Maurice’ event, I want you to sit with me” Leon looked taken aback “I don’t know how to feel that the same place he had his birthday party and to me, that is bad memories of seeing him and his wife, I was pregnant. But we also had a beautiful dance together, I need you with me. You understand the pain” Leon smiled at me lightly “also we met Beyoncé” I snorted laughing, he would remember that “yes we did but stick to what I felt like, you held my hand then and I just need that support” Leon put his head down “I feel so emotional, you know I will be there with you. I got you” Leon leaned over and hugged me.

Getting a sleeping Reign out of her stroller and placing her over my shoulder “Robyn, look at me” Leon said, turning around “we need a selfie, it’s been a while” I pulled a face looking away “I look terrible” Leon’ eyes bulged out “on your worst days you are bomb as fuck, shut up. Now please” I shuffled closer to Leon “to Robyn Davenport, the queen of the empire” I laughed at Leon being dumb, but he took the picture “oh please, don’t do that!” I spat, Leon turned around “but I love your smile, look” he turned the phone to me “also Maurice hasn’t unfollowed me on Instagram, I still feel like Royalty” smiling at the picture “I look like I am glowing, am I?” looking at him “you been glowing bitch, it looks nice. Reign is serving side profile, simply perfect. My caption will be me and my girl, simple and cute just like me” Leon said “you mean easy and cute” I retorted “girl, fuck you” I laughed as I turned to my car to buckle in Reign, I needed this time with Leon because I needed to see he cared and he made the effort with me.

Sitting outside the hospital waiting, not a place I want to see for a while. I have used every holiday I got for this, when I go back to work I have no holiday hours left. I am going away for so long, then wait for the added bonus of this baby, oh they are not going to be happy. Looking in the rear-view mirror to check on Reign, she is tired. I made that poor girl walk a lot, Maurice would have picked her up, she is getting spoilt. Looking back at my phone, the picture Leon took I look good, he right as fuck that I am glowing. Scrolling down and tapping on the comments, there is a lot of comments on this picture “I would wife that” I read out smiling, that is cute. Let me reply back “I would too” I read to myself as I replied back, I mean I would marry myself also. The knock on the car window made me jump, looking up and seeing Maurice. Unlocking the car door for him, Maurice dragged open the door “I am back, where is my hug?” Maurice said as he got in the car “just reading comments of marriage proposals, don’t mind me” Maurice huffed out sitting into the car “it’s all about you when I had to go through that?” locking my phone as I looked over at Maurice “ok, here is the attention you wanted, how was it?” Maurice closed the car door “it was a little painful thank you, I have a booboo” he held his arm out “ok, so?” looking at his arm “I am joking” leaning over and kissing his cheek “do you feel good? You look refreshed” he really does “I feel better, it’s just a weird thing to go through. They thought I was getting ill at first, I sneezed and they panicked, but it was just some dust probably irritating my nose” poking my lips out “you are so adorable, I am very happy you did this off your own back, you learning. You saw the issue and you fixed it, so suit shopping now? I don’t get it though; you have the entire catalogue of suits? I mean they all look the same” he could just use them “I mean you have an entire catalogue of weaves that look the same but different colour, but you still buy?” my mouth fell open, I was not expecting such a come back “wow!” I spat “we are going to argue Maurice, wow!” I was not expecting that “but am I wrong? You judge my colour and name coordinating ways, not my fault you’re jealous of it” putting my hand in his face “you are just a bitch” I can’t believe it, it was funny but I need to be fake mad.

I am not angry with Maurice; it was actually funny what he said. He shocked me because I wasn’t ready for that, he is so rude questioning my weaves “you been hanging with Leon then?” peaking over at this phone “looks like it, don’t you think I look nice? Like the picture for me, tell me I am beautiful too” I smiled to myself “I can tell you that in the car, how come you went with Leon? I wasn’t asked” I guess we might as well discuss this “well he called as soon as you left the car, he said let’s go for a walk. We just spoke on things, it was nice to have my friend with me, the friend I know. I did say I would watch his behaviour and that I wouldn’t chase him but we spoke, he has taken a week off for me, and that I wanted to ask you something” I mean I am asking him but I have already told Leon “someone in his comments said your coochie looks like it tastes nice” I laughed out looking at Maurice “is he wrong though? Is he cute?” Maurice frowned at me “I am joking, but is he wrong?” he is so moody and I am smiling “awww come on Maurice, I am joking” he is funny “you best not be liking any other man Robyn” pulling a face as I stared at the road “I mean Quincy is cute” Maurice is going to be annoyed and now I won’t be able to speak to him properly “then marry him” I pointed at Maurice “say that and I will stop this car” I know how his mind works “well! Don’t say that to me!” he half shouted “because I know that will annoy you, I love you pootie” stopping at the red light “look at your pootie face” Maurice is not happy at all “come on now” poking my bottom lip out at him “this coochie is yours, is it not? I am just joking with you, to annoy you. You make it so easy for me to do it too” Maurice rolled his eyes “your forehead is shining in that picture so there” I chuckled, he is childish.

Parking outside an apartment complex “you know where this is?” Maurice pointed “uhm no, what is it?” I hate parking, I can’t do it for shit “Davenport apartments, this is yours and Reign’ thing. This is under you, I have been too busy to really look at it but it opened up and the apartments were already fully booked” my eyes widened “oh wow, baby!? This is wonderful but what we doing here? Awww you really getting into the housing thing aren’t you?” Maurice grinned “you know it but I wanted to bring you here, show you the building that is finally done. I am proud of it, it’s the first to finish and yeah” I cooed out “it has security in there too?” I think I can see the guards “it does, twenty four hours, we have some famous people here. Some are like influencers that live here but just know your portfolio is coming together, I am always working on it for you and Reign but are you impressed?” opening the car door as I unbuckled the belt “impressed, baby I am amazed like what the hell” stepping out of the car, looking up the apartment complex “it’s a perfect place to be at too, wow. I am a little shocked” I didn’t expect this, I didn’t really remember this or him telling me “pass me my phone” I said to Maurice, I have to note this on my Instagram. Aiming my camera up at the building as I took the picture “thank you so much Maurice, like I never remembered” captioning the picture as I sat in the car ‘Building for the future, my husband surprised me with ‘The Davenport’ which is the very first apartment complex under the Davenport name. First of many to come, thank you baby’ I mean if anyone wants to hate me even more, they can now “I am so happy Maurice, like wow. It’s actually beautiful” closong the car door as I pressed post “well it took time but here we are” leaning over the panel and kissing his cheek “oohhh kisses now, so I did good?” he turned to look at me “you did amazing” pecking his lips “I posted on my social so if you would like to add to that” I smiled wide.

I am enjoying driving this Bentley, maybe I need to convert to a Bentley now “Robyn” Maurice said “mhmm?” I hate traffic here “look here” turning my head “oohh, you doing selfies now? You want me in your selfie, baby you can’t take pictures for anything but because you are doing it. I will take it” shifting closer, I mean we are in traffic so it’s ok. Maurice smiled which made me smile and then he took the picture “nope, that is a no. You smiled” hitting his shoulder “another one please” Maurice sighed out “fine” he shifted in his seat as he held his phone up, sitting back a little “ok, you done moving your head?” he said watching what I was doing which made me laugh “I am keeping it” I gasped “oh please! No!” reaching over to snatch his phone but the traffic started to move “I hate you” he is so annoying “Robyn, you look nice. Just give me a moment” rolling my eyes, I look awful when I be laughing, I don’t like it but he’s not stopping. I need to add the part of Leon coming to his event but like I don’t want to ruin the mood either, I need to word it right first. Putting my indicator on and waiting to go into the left lane, I am in the wrong lane to beat traffic but now I have to go into the lane that has traffic. Putting the window down so I can poke my head out, smiling at the guy in the car hoping he lets me in. The car ahead moved forward, hearing a honk and I looked back at the guy, he smiled and gestured for me to go into the lane. Waving my hand at him as I drove slowly, catching him blowing a kiss at me “well ok” I mumbled to myself “what?” Maurice mumbled “nothing, just trying to beat traffic” looking in my rear view mirror as I got into the lane, the guy is smiling at me looking at the rear view mirror “what a creep” I said to myself “so, you ready. I finished typing” looking at Maurice, he is so cute and none the wiser “I am listening pootie” trying to peak over at his phone “I am not poetic, I don’t do this but I try” furrowing my eyebrows at him “is that what you put?” I am confused “no, just telling you I tried. I am trying” letting out an oh “go on then, I am excited” I want hear what he wrote down “Robyn didn’t want to smile, she wanted me to delete this picture but she doesn’t know that her smile is the smile that lights up the room. Money, and buildings is nothing to me, I would make you a building in every city for you, I have never been so happy, it’s not perfect and I wouldn’t give that false persona but this is our perfect, with the doubters around we still made it through and now we about to be married, our souls connected and now our names will be connected. I have never been so happy, thank you for loving me when I didn’t think I could be loved” wiping my tears and then laughing at Maurice looking at me crazy “you made me cry, oh my god. Maurice, you really posted that?” I sniffled trying to not wipe my make up off “yes, I mean it. I just wanted to post something sweet about you” I want to hug him so bad “god, I love you. Maurice, that is so sweet. Thank you” I was not expecting that.

As soon as I got out of the car I ran around the car “what are you doing?” Maurice said as he got out of the car “I want to hug you, pootie that was so sweet. Why don’t you see that” wrapping my arms around Maurice’ body “you think? I thought it was corny” Maurice wrapped her arms around me “I miss that booty though, when you going to let me have some” Maurice gripped my butt, I giggled at him “I was feeling horny actually but then I am trying to stop myself, I think it’s best to wait it out” looking up at Maurice “I love you Bonita, I really do even though you spoilt as shit. I’m honestly so excited for this baby, even though Reign is my number one forever, she my twin for real” I gasped “I am not, just spoilt sometimes. I can never amount to what you ever give me, makes me sad but I will give you all my love” I grinned “mhmmm, sure. I want it all every day” Maurice pressed a kiss to my lips “I should have wrote more, damn. Imagine what I would get if I wrote a long ass paragraph” I chuckled moving back “I would be on my knees sir, you missed out” I said laughing.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Fanfic #Fanfiction

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tiptapricot · 5 years ago

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Request from the DC gc: When Duke finds out he has powers he tries to hide it from Bruce because he’s worried he’ll be kicked out of Gotham.

AO3 link here, enjoy!

“Let me under, I’m freezing!”

“Stop it, you’re letting in cold air!”

“Oh really?”

Duke watches as Steph yanks the blanket from Jason’s shoulders and runs cackling for the other side of the field. Jason gets up and stumbles after her, yelling a string of curses as he tries to catch up. Steph makes it about halfway to the tree line before she’s tackled to the ground and the two of them start throwing punches. Cass rushes past a second later, a look in her eye that Duke is sure would make even Darkseid wet his pants.

It’s his first New Year’s at the Manor and one of the only times he’s seen the whole family together in one place. Bruce is setting up fireworks and sparklers, Dick and Tim are helping Alfred ferry food from the kitchen to a buffet table near the edge of the backyard, and the rest of the family is set up on blankets, talking loudly and drinking steaming cups of tea and coffee. It’s cozy, a welcome break from the usual chaos of Gotham.

Jason trudges up and plops back down next to Duke, muttering under his breath as he pulls the blanket tight around his shoulders. The peace only lasts a moment before Steph walks by and kicks him teasingly in the shoulder and the two of them are tearing off through the grass again.

Duke chuckles and stretches, taking a deep breath and lying back on the picnic blanket. Unlike in Gotham, you can see the stars from the manor. The sound of traffic is distant and the hum of conversation is relaxing. It almost seems unreal. So much of Duke’s life over the past few years has been a nightmare. Riddler, Joker, it all feels so alien compared to now.

He’s never had siblings before, that’s been one of the biggest changes since the adoption. There were his parents, but that doesn’t really compare. He’s still getting used to the little things, like how yelling doesn’t necessarily mean someone is angry (though it can), and how there’s always someone to watch your back. He wants to get to know his siblings better. He’s been around Dick, Tim, Jason, and Damian a lot, and he likes to think he knows them pretty well, but the others are a bit of a mystery.

Cass seems nice. She’s quiet most of the time, but Duke has seen her cut loose on more than one occasion. Cassandra Wayne knows how to have a good time.

Babs is what he’d expect from an older sister, strict but kind, dorky, the voice of reason when things get too hectic. Duke thinks it’d be nice to help her out with monitoring patrol sometime. It would give them a chance to sit down and talk.

Steph is just a big ball of energy. She’s headstrong and loud but Duke knows that isn’t the whole story. Sure, she might have added purple glitter to Dick’s shampoo last month, but Duke has stumbled upon quiet moments in the kitchen more than once, heard how soft her voice sounds when she’s helping patch the others up from a night out.

Duke wants to get to know them better, they are family after all.

A shadow blocks his view, making Duke blink. He sits up and rubs his eyes, squinting in the dark.

“Damian?”

“Is this spot taken?”

“Uh…” Duke doesn’t see Jason anywhere, maybe he’s been put on time out. “Nah go ahead.”

Damian sits down with a huff, steam pluming in a soft cloud from his lips.

“Any New Year’s resolutions?” Duke asks.

Damian shrugs. “I don’t see the point.”

“Right, and I’m guessing the others have already given you a lecture in it?”

“Not really.”

“Then why not?”

“Thomas,” Damian gives him a look that’s supposed to be intimidating but instead comes off as more of a pout, “why would I waste my time on meaningless promises?”

“I mean, there’s no harm in thinking about how you want to improve, right?”

“Tt.” Damian crosses his arms over his knees, focusing his attention into the clearing. Bruce is setting up the last of the fireworks.

“It doesn’t have to be a big thing, Dami. You can just say something like, uh, something like...”

He loses his train of thought, his brow furrowing. It starts off small, little sparks drifting up from the grass, so faint Duke thinks he’s imagining it. He shakes his head, and tries to focus back on the moment.

“You can say something like, next year I’ll keep my room cleaner, or—”

A streak of fire erupts in the middle of the clearing, just to Bruce’s left, little dots of light raining down on him. Duke flinches, hand coming up to shield his eyes, but no else seems to react, not Damian, not even Bruce.

Did one of the sparklers go off by accident? Something else moves behind the light and Duke squints to make it out. It almost looks like… a person. Who—

“Thomas?”

Duke jumps, attention snapping back to Damian.

“I, uh,” he glances back at Bruce. The sparkler is still going off, but the figure is gone now. He swallows thickly. “What’s up Dami?”

“You seem distracted. Is something wrong?”

Duke tries to smile, ignoring the way the edge of Damian’s face is starting to blur and glow, like badly layered frames of a movie. He shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing. I’m just… excited.”

Damian nods slowly, obviously still skeptical. Duke really wants to change topics, to ignore whatever weird thing is happening right now, because if one thing’s for sure, this is not normal.

“So, about those resolutions—”

There’s an echoing, shrill, pop that rings in his ears and a second later streams of bright smoke erupt into the air, more sparklers bursting to life in towering pillars of fire.

Duke jumps, letting out a shriek of surprise as he watches the entire clearing fill up with light. He can’t even see Bruce anymore, lost somewhere among the haze of fireworks.

“Holy shit.” He breathes.

This isn’t some kind of minor malfunction anymore, something has gone horribly wrong. Duke feels frozen, his eyes bulging wide as he watches the night burst open with streams of light. Bruce is somewhere in there. He’s hurt, maybe dying. Why is nobody doing anything, why is no one else—

“Thomas? Thomas!”

Hands shake him out of his stupor, and he blinks rapidly, heart hammering in his throat.

Damian looks at him through the darkness, an uncharacteristic expression of worry etched into the lines of his face.

“Dami, what are you doing? Why is no one helping?”

“Helping with what?”

“Helping—”

He looks back and freezes.

Bruce is fine.

There are no fireworks or sparklers, no smoke, no fire. Bruce is kneeling in the grass, still unwrapping tubes of colored packaging.

“He’s—I—he was… I’m gonna see if Alfred needs more help.” Duke excuses himself with a curt smile, mind racing.

The walk to the kitchen feels like it takes forever.

***

“I mean, it’s not like I don’t get that you like it, I just don’t know why you like is so much.” Dick says, lifting a few serving bowls down from the cupboard and setting them on the counter.

“Just because you don’t appreciate the simple beauty of Minecraft doesn’t mean I love you any less, Dick, I hope you know that.” Tim replies, pulling the last tray of dinner rolls from the oven.

“I’m so relieved.”

“Is this what you guys have been arguing about this whole time?” Duke asks.

“No, I believe it started out as a debate over fat free milk.” Alfred says coolly, pressing tin foil over two bowls of soup.

“I still can’t believe you actually drink that shit!” Dick calls over to Tim, laughter in his voice.

“Language Dickie boy!” Tim yells back, pushing the back door open with his hip.

Dick chuckles lightly, turning back to finish up the last few salads.

“You sure I can’t do anything to help?” Duke asks.

“I think we’ve got it covered here bud, but if you wanna grab some more blankets from the living room I wouldn’t say no.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Duke leaves the warmth of the kitchen, letting out a long sigh as he makes his way down the hall.

What an evening.

Sparklers. Tricks of the light.

It’s not the first time something like this has happened, and that’s what really worries him. There have been a few late nights alone in his room, where he’s seen things he shouldn’t be seeing. Books falling before they fall, light trails clinging to his heels when he gets up, things he just attributed to lack of sleep and too much caffeine. But tonight has been different. It’s like he can feel it now, a warm buzzing building up behind his eyes, a weightlessness in the pit of his stomach.

What is he becoming?

The living room is dark, everything solid and still. Duke scoops up an armful of blankets from the couch, pausing for a moment to take a breath.

Whatever’s happening, he’s going to be alright. It’s probably just the lingering effects of a hallucinogen, Scarecrow maybe, or Mad Hatter. He’ll check in with Bruce later and they’ll run some tests and get it out of his system. And then he’ll be fine. The visions will go away and he can go back to being normal again.

Duke smiles at the thought. Normal. It’s not a word he gets to use much in his life, but the idea that he’s gotten to a point where he can is… comforting.

He adjusts the pile of blankets and makes to turn back towards the kitchen, startling when he nearly bumps headfirst into Dick.

“Jesus. You almost gave me a heart attack!” He says, half laughing. “Warn a guy next time yeah?”

Dick doesn’t respond, staring off somewhere over his shoulder. He doesn’t make a sound, his eyes blank, something off in his expression Duke can’t quite place.

“Dude, are you alri—”

He cuts himself off as Dick walks forward, and through him. Duke freezes for a moment, breath picking up, before he turns slowly and watches the apparition move silently across the room. Its edges are dull and shifting, like a bad copy of the original. It gets dimmer as it crosses to the window, before it melts away completely.

Duke stares after it, every part of his brain telling him to run, because you don’t just see things like that. You don’t just see ghosts of your family, you don’t just see things happen before they happen. Hallucinogen, he reminds himself, even though he’s never seen a drug that can do this.

Duke takes a deep breath and stumbles towards the hall, stopping in his tracks when he sees more of them.

They’re even vaguer than the one before, faint glowing outlines of Bruce and Alfred and Cass, walking up from the basement, tending to the fire, reading a newspaper. Duke weaves between them in a panic, clutching the blankets in his arms in a death grip and trying to ignore the quiet faces.

He stumbles into the hall and towards the kitchen, breathing heavily. If he can just get back to the others, then it’ll all be a nightmare, it’ll all be fake and he can go back to normal. That’s all he wants. Normal.

Two figures burst through the kitchen door and Duke skids to a halt, watching as a ghostly Steph and Jason run swift and smooth towards the main house. He can see their lips move in silent taunts, see how close they look to the real things, the coats and mittens and… the blanket held tight in one of Jason’s hands. Duke whips around as they pass, realizing in one heartstopping moment that the ghosts are dressed the same as the real Steph and Jason.

Something cold and tight twists in Duke’s chest.

He pushes open the kitchen door tentatively, glancing back down the hallway. It’s empty now, but he can’t get the image out of his head.

“Oh hey! What took you so long bud? Get lost?” Dick claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder. He flinches, but Dick doesn’t seem to notice. “We took out the last of the food, I was just about to come grab you. Want some help with those?”

“What? Oh, yeah.”

Dick takes most of the pile, hooking his chin over the top.

“Come on, it’s almost midnight, you don’t want to miss the fireworks.”

Yeah, actually he does.

“I’ll be out in a minute, just want to check on something.”

Dick raises an eyebrow in confusion but turns to leave anyway, pushing the back door open with his elbow.

“Wait… Dick?”

Dick pauses, looking back. “What’s up?”

“Did Jay and Steph come through here earlier?” Duke asks, fingers tightening around the cloth of the blankets.

“Uh, yeah, a few minutes before you came in. They nearly knocked Alfred over, went straight through. Why?”

“No reason.”

Dick nods slowly, “Right.” And with that he slips outside. Duke watches him through the window before he turns back to the kitchen.

He has to test something, something that scares him more than fighting villains ever has. He focuses on the room, letting the buzz from before fill his head. Then he waits, part of him hoping nothing happens, part of him hoping he really is just imagining it all.

But, just like clockwork the phantasms appear, going through the same motions Duke had watched before. He sees Dick working on food, sees him laugh, only there’s no sound this time, just the silent smile and vague crinkle of the eyes. Sometimes the ghosts will turn and pieces of their bodies will melt into blackness, cutting off abruptly. Duke takes a step back when something passes over Tim’s face and the apparition ceases to have one, just an empty hole surrounded by glowing wisps of hair.

That’s too much for him. He crosses the kitchen in a hurry, palms sweating, slipping on the door knob. The manor grounds are empty and quiet and Duke walks as fast as he can for the backyard. Faint outlines are drifting through the air, just the shadows of people, just their imprints. He ignores them as he comes around the side of the garage, just in time to watch the manor grounds explode with color.

He’s blinded, stumbling back as cracks and bangs reverberate through the air. He screams and covers his eyes, dropping the rest of the blankets in the process. The light is too bright, brighter than he’s ever seen, like looking straight into the sun. It’s brighter than light should be. His vision is a patchwork of blotches and dots and his head feels like it’s on fire. There’s a whoop of excitement and the shrieking of another firework before Duke manages to open his eyes again.

He nearly chokes on his own breath.

There are hundreds of them, swarming over the lawn and up the steps, clear and vivid and blindingly bright. The ghosts melt into each other, overlapping, rippling out towards the house. All the possibilities of the next few minutes, family members running, sitting, some smiling, others looking terrified.

Duke screams again and turns back towards the house, tripping over his own feet as concerned voices drift after him.

He can’t breathe.

Up the steps, through the door, over the landing, down the hall. The door to his room slams shut behind him and Duke fumbles as he tries to lock it, hands shaking feverishly.

This isn’t right, none of this is right.

“Duke?” He hears Jason call from downstairs. “You good, man? Where th’ hell’d you go?”

There’s the heavy sound of boots thumping up the stairs and Duke panics, trying to run for his bed. He trips and knocks something off a shelf, scrambling blindly in the dark. He hasn’t turned the light on and he doesn’t want to. This thing is triggered by light, so the less of it, the better.

There’s a knock at the door. “I know you’re in there kid. What’s goin’ on? Looked like you saw a fuckin’ ghost back there.”

Duke takes a deep breath, trying to blink away the returning buzz.

“It was nothing, Jay! I’m fine, go back outside!” He yells. It’s not convincing, of course it’s not, but it was worth a shot.

“Okay, but if ya don’t tell me what happened imma have to have B come talk to you, and that’s gonna be way less fun.”

Duke doesn’t respond, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to get rid of the images flashing behind his eyelids.

Jason’s sigh sounds muffled through the wood. “Suit yourself.”

The footsteps retreat and Duke is left alone with his own heavy breathing. Tears slip over the skin of his wrists, hot and wet, and he pushes harder against his eyes.

He knows what this is. He doesn’t want to, god of course he doesn’t want to, but he does.

He has powers.

None like he’s heard of before, he’s not even fully sure what they are or how they work, and that alone is scary enough, but it’s not what’s important. Every meta struggles with their powers, that’s obvious enough. Damian has told Duke countless stories about Jon accidentally blasting things, or floating when he shouldn’t.

That’s not what really scares him.

It’s the reality that this, that he, won’t work in this family anymore. It’s a clear rule, no metas in Gotham, so what is he supposed to do?

Duke doesn’t want to leave, he doesn’t want to give up a life again. He just got this family and now the universe is just going to rip it away? No. No. That can’t happen. God please don’t let that happen.

“Duke?” There’s a heavy pounding on the door and Duke scoots further behind his bed. “Son, I need you to let me in, I have to make sure you’re alright.”

It’s Bruce. Of course it’s Bruce. What can he do? What can he do what can he do whatcanhedowhatcanhedo?

He can hide it.

“Duke?” Bruce’s tone is firm but soft, and it almost makes Duke regret running for the window.

He throws open the latch and takes a gulp of fresh air. There’s a ledge jutting out from the windowsill that runs along the side of the house. It looks sturdy enough, at least he hopes it is.

“Duke, I don’t want to scare you but I will have Alfred open the door if you don’t let me in.”

No choice.

Duke steps through the window, edging carefully along the ledge. He takes a short breath when he’s fully outside and lets go of the frame, leaning against the manor's tiling as he slides away from his room. The marble is cold and he really should’ve put his coat back on, but he doesn’t have much time. Bruce’s knocking has gotten more insistent and he has to make it to the front of the house before they find him.

He picks up the pace.

When he gets to the corner of the house Duke rests his head against the wall, letting out a long breath and readying himself before he swings his leg around and feels for the ledge again. The sole of his shoe slips off an he sways before trying again. There’s the sound of a door slamming and a shout of surprise and that’s all the motivation he needs. Duke pulls himself around and hugs against the wall, heart fluttering sporadically in his ribcage.

They’ll be looking for him soon.

He takes one step and his shoe slips again, but this time he can’t get a good grip. His shins slam against the ledge, followed by his elbows, before he’s landing fast and heavy on the lawn. Duke chokes as he tries to get his breath back, sputtering and coughing before he pushes himself to his feet.

Move move move.

The manor is still dark, the front windows gaping open like big black mouths. He can’t see anyone in the living room, now’s his chance.

Duke pushes open the front doors and runs for the back hall, blood drumming in his ears. He can hear people upstairs, calling out to each other, searching the rooms.

“Where could he have gone?”

“What the hell is happening?”

“Do you think he’s alright?”

The clock swings open silently.

Down down down, the cave walls echo as Duke thunders down the stairs, not pausing to catch his breath before he’s running towards the chem lab.

He gets to the cabinets breathless, wrenching the glass doors open. He rifles through the bottles, skimming his finger along the labels. Where is it. Where is it.

There!

Duke pulls out a small glass tube filled with greenish brown liquid. It’s labeled Fear Gas in thick black sharpie.

Duke closes the cabinet carefully and grabs a syringe from one of the drawers. He pops off the lid of the tube and draws out a few milliliters of solution before capping it again, hands shaking as he sets it back on the counter.

He can hide this way. Inject himself and when they find him, when they test him, they’ll just think he got dosed. It’ll explain everything, his jumpiness, the screaming, heck, he thought he was drugged too at first. They don’t have to know he has powers, he doesn’t have to get kicked out, he doesn’t have to lose a family again.

“Duke! There you are!”

He turns with a start, shoving the syringe behind his back. Bruce is making his way across the cave, face twisted in concern.

“What happened? Why did you jump out the window? What is going on?”

Duke stumbles backwards, two steps at a time. Not now, it won’t work now.

“Duke?”

He flinches back from the touch before Bruce even reaches out. Because he sees it. He sees it coming. Ghostly fingers reaching out, wispy and vague like morning mist, there to expose him for what he really is. A meta. A monster.

His fingers tighten around the syringe and he backs further against the counter.

“I need to know what’s going on or I can’t help you. Just talk to me.”

“I—I,“ he presses the needle to his wrist, thumb shaking over the plunger. He can still do it somehow, he can hide it. They don’t have to know. He can hide it.

“I don’t know what you’re going through, but I can help you, Duke, it’ll be alright.” Bruce’s voice is so low, so soft, so loving. It makes Duke feel sick, because he knows he’s going to lose that if he doesn’t act now.

“But—” His hands are shaking, shaking too much to hold the syringe. But he has to do it, right? Right? “But you’ll be mad.”

Bruce smiles sadly. “No, no no no, I won’t be mad, I promise I won’t be mad. It’s alright.” He wouldn’t say that if he knew, he wouldn’t care so much if he knew, he wouldn’t—“It’s alright.”

The syringe clatters on the cave floor and Duke is in Bruce’s arms a second later, pulling him as close as he can.

“Msorrymsososorryididn’tmeanit!”

Bruce’s arms wrap around his back, warm and steady and solid, holding him so carefully, like he means everything in the world.

“I know, I know, don’t worry. I’m still going to need you to tell me what’s wrong, okay? It doesn’t have to be right now, but I want to make sure you’re alright.”

“Okay.” He presses his face into Bruce’s stomach. His knees feel weak and Bruce must notice because he’s suddenly being hefted up into his arms.

“Let’s go have Alfred make you some tea. When you’re feeling better we can talk. Does that sound good?”

Duke nods, taking a shuddering breath.

“Alright.”

Bruce turns to carry him out of the cave, and just before they go up the stairs, Duke cracks his eyes open.

There’s a boy standing in the middle of the cave, hugging tight to his father, both glowing warmly against the stone.

What a beautiful sight, Duke thinks to himself, a family made out of gold.

#the ao3 link might not work on mobile bc tumblr's being weird :/#im playing pretty loose with canon and Duke's powers in this since I haven't actually read the comics #duke thomas #bruce wayne #jason todd #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #alfred pennyworth #batfamily #batfam #my fic #dc #dc comics #fic #fanfic #my-fic

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imnotcameraready · 6 years ago

Text

Enjambment (chivalry au)

A/N: it’s the first not-main-story story!!!! wrote this while tryna figure out how to get from point a to point b, and it doesn’t really fit in with the story’s Flow, so it’s gonna be its own lil part! it’s also got a little bit more character building for the Playwright and the Artist, if anyone wanted that lm a o — they’re good bois, they’re just. really bad at being good bois.

also i kNOW chapter 11 came out like, last night, but ,. ., ., .. . ive had this sitting ready for literally a week ., ,. ,.. sorry for bombarding y’all with this au :’’D

WARNINGS: self-deprecation, self-hate, touch starved, threats, cursing/swearing, destruction of property, destruction of art (ewe)

Words: 2085

AO3 link to this story; AO3 link to chivalry’s main plot

MASTERPOST! <-- i dont think this story is understandable without reading the other parts, hence im plugging it so much ; v; i’m sorry y’all ilu <3

chivalry taglist: @starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda @askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil

general tag: @jemthebookworm

hope you enjoy!! <3 <3 <3

The Playwright didn’t like admitting he was wrong. He often wasn’t. Having the position of an omniscient narrator meant he got to be right a lot, which was one of Roman’s favorite things.

But his argument with the Artist may not have been one of those “right” things. The Playwright leaned on the table, twirling a pencil absentmindedly as he contemplated. He wasn’t entirely wrong, no. The Artist had to keep in mind the safety of the other Sides. If anything happened to any of them, Thomas would be hurt, and Roman would riot. Every bit of him, except for…. The Playwright winced. On the other hand, this in-fighting was exactly what they should be countering. Sure, everyone disagreed and that was the purpose of this dismantling, but the Playwright was above these squabbles. Should be above them, figuratively, because in physical space, he very much was above them.

Apologizing would be the logical thing to do.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead. He didn’t enjoy entering the medieval town, didn’t like going deeper into the Imagination, but it seemed he would traverse there more often.

The sound of a paper flipping caught his attention. His eyes shot open as he looked around the room. No one was there.

But he’d definitely heard movement. The Playwright swallowed down his fear. “Hello?” he called out.

Nothing. None of the costumes had moved, none of the shoes or benches or any of his paperwork.

Wait, no, there was something. The Playwright moved a few scraps to the side and picked up an envelope. This hadn’t been there before.

Cordial invitation of Roman ‘Playwright’ Sanders to the Entry Gala — in celebration of Morality, Logic, Anxiety, and Deceit’s welcome to the Imagination.

The Playwright’s eyes widened. Oh, fuck.

He tore the envelope open and read its contents.

The Artist wept.

He ran his hand along the ruined canvas — ruined by his hand, torn open with his own knife and dirtied with his tears — and pressed it fast to his chest.

Why was he so mean? Why did it hurt so much, for his creations to be picked at like vultures and a carcass? Wasn’t that the point, wasn’t that how artists improved?

Ah, who was he kidding. He wasn’t a real artist at all. Just a name he’d selected when they first started this game.

The Artist was so wrapped up in his lamentations that he didn’t hear the soft sound of paper falling onto the floor beside him.

He shouted again, cradling the broken mess of canvas and wooden frames. All good artists got second opinions. No one was safe from criticism, and there was always room for improvement! He should know this, he DID know that, it was reasonable. But hearing it from the others always made him so anxious—

He sniffed, wiping his face with the paw of his sweatshirt. If he was falling apart this bad, it must mean he was losing this challenge thing. But thinking of anxiety and then, well, Anxiety, Virgil…. the Artist wished he’d gotten to meet the two, too. Like every other bit, he did love them.

The sound of debris being scattered, then a surprised yelp. The Artist sighed, curling up tighter. God fucking damnit.

“What—I’ve—Artist?!” the Playwright asked.

The Artist was sat against the wall, cradling a bundle of broken paintings to his chest, previously white sweater dirtied with layers upon layers of paint. All around him, every painting that has previously been neatly stacked in the room was torn to shreds. Broken pieces of wood and canvases halved were strewn around the room in piles, or one thick pile, with only a small circle of ground around the Artist. Sketchbooks were torn, even the drawing tablet was — okay, the Playwright wasn’t going to look at that and think of the physical monetary price, because none of this was real. Holy shit, the Artist had put a hole into the wall of his house. There was a hole? He’d punched a hole into the wall? Good heavens.

The Playwright, in an effort to not damage any of his art, accidentally appeared on top of one of the piles. He fell over, landing on his butt amongst the shreds, and looked around wildly.

“What happened?” he asked once he caught sight of the Artist’s frozen figure in the corner, still since he arrived, “Did Dragon—”

“They weren’t good enough, so I tore them up,” the Artist whispered into his own folded arms.

The Playwright’s brow pinched in worry. That had happened only a few times before, where a single work had been so terrible that the Artist ripped it to shreds in anger, but he’d never done….this. And he especially wouldn’t have done this, since he had numerous pieces he wanted to show the other Sides.

He drew in a breath as his mind filled in the gap.

“Oh, Artist, what did they say?” the Playwright whispered, pushing himself up and slowly making his way closer.

“Nothing. Get away.”

He grit his teeth. The Artist was going to be difficult, wasn’t he? Now, now, it wasn’t a good time to lose his temper. He came with a job to do, and he wasn’t cruel enough to leave the Artist to be upset alone. And he needed his help. This was purely logical.

He wanted to laugh. Being logical was so taxing; how did Logan do it all the time?

“Artist. I’m not leaving,” the Playwright sat in front of him, “I take it that Logic and Morality didn’t take well to your paintings?”

He glanced up at the Playwright, quick enough to now show an expression but slow enough that the Playwright caught a glimpse of his tearstained eyes.

“They–They said my art’s unfinished. Logic did.”

The Playwright frowned. “Wait. That’s it?”

The Artist curled up more, and the Playwright gently put a hand on his forearm. “Wait, wait, I didn’t mean it judgy. I just….that’s something you’ve complained about, too.”

To that, the Artist shot him a small glare. When the Playwright put it like that, then the Artist’s reaction seemed childish. “Yeah, but,” he sighed, “I didn’t want them to say anything about it.”

“Then why didn’t you warn them about it?” the Playwright asked, confused.

“Look, I don’t–I don’t know!” the Artist tossed the painting he was cradling aside and ran his hands through his hair, “It all happened so fast, and Padre was getting mad at me for not letting Child stay here. It—they both got upset at me, and they interrupted my painting, and Padre kept hugging me and it felt weird.”

The Playwright exhaled. He put a mental pin on the hugging thing — a similar thing had happened to him the other day, and he would have to talk to the others about what may be occurring — and then scooted closer again, sitting beside the Artist.

“Seeing as I wasn’t there, I cannot speak to what your argument may have been about. But I know that Logic and Morality wouldn’t have wanted to intentionally harm us.”

“How do you know, Pencil pusher?” the Artist hissed, though his words held an emptiness that betrayed his disbelief.

“Because they wouldn’t. They’re calloused, but they wouldn’t hurt us. Maybe Prince.”

The Artist snorted. “You really hate that guy.”

The Playwright smiled. Good. He cleared his throat and threw up his hands in the Prince’s signature style. “Hoo hoo, look at me, I’m a Disney Prince and I like singing songs and being an idiot!” he said, mockingly emphasizing a mispronunciation of “Disney.”

That got the Artist to laugh, shoving the Playwright gently. “Hey, hey, Disney’s cool! I’ll defend Disney to the death,” he rubbed the back of his neck.

The tension returned, but only slightly. The Playwright didn’t want to push him, but he was a little impatient for the Artist to pull himself together. His feet gently tapped against the ground in a small, familiar tune.

After what seemed like ages, the Artist let out a breath.

“....I did….overreact. A little,” he said. “The knife was too much.”

“A lot. Wait, did you say knife?”

“Yeah. I, um, I lost it a little.” He rubbed the back of his head again, looking up at the Playwright. “Thank you for sitting with me.”

The Playwright smiled. Wonderful. He patted the Artist’s arm comfortingly. “If I cannot comfort myself, then what am I doing?”

They both shared a small chuckle at that. It was easy to forget that they were two parts of a much more cohesive whole.

It was also easy to forget that the Playwright had something else he wanted to ask. He clapped, sitting upright and startling the Artist.

“Sorry,” he put his hands up, eyes blazing with new worry, “I actually came to ask something else — did you get invited to the party?”

The Artist’s brow furrowed. “The….party? No?”

“Oh, come, you must have,” the Playwright looked around.

The same envelope he’d received prior was sitting beside the Artist, on top of some of the ruined paintings. He picked it up and found two more envelopes beneath. “Great Ben Jonson, you got Logic and Morality’s invitations, too,” the Playwright flipped through the three cards and handed the one addressed to the Artist, to the Artist. “You must not have noticed it earlier. I got a letter similar, this morning. From Dragon.”

“From Dragon? Fuck, how’d he find us?” the Artist read the front and flipped it over again, tearing it open.

“I don’t know. Perhaps he just sent it to the location of whoever said Logic’s name last night. I also don’t know how he got backstage to deliver mine,” the Playwright read over his shoulder, “I honestly came here hoping to find the other Sides. We need to warn them.”

“We do? About what?” the Artist shot him a frown, but the Playwright just gestured to the paper, so he read the invitation.

His eyes scanned through it once. His body slowly tense as he realized what was being asked, and he flipped it over, checking all around the letter and the envelope that there wasn’t more.

“This,” the Artist reread the letter once more before lowering it and staring, stricken, at the Playwright, “This is a fucked up joke, right? Like, it’s gotta be a joke. Dragon’s Disney pranking us, without friends.”

“I don’t want to hazard that,” the Playwright stood up and motioned for the Artist to get up, “We need to find the others and warn them. If Logic and Morality’s invitations are here, then they must not know, and it’s a safe bet that if they don’t know, then Anxiety and Deceit don’t know, either.”

The Artist pushed himself up, rolling his sleeves up and wiping his face slowly. “He wouldn’t hurt them,” he mumbled. “Why’s he mentioning Prince, too?”

“I don’t know. And after what he did to Damsel?” The Artist rolled his eyes as the Playwright continued, “I don’t think Dragon would hesitate to hurt them, and he’s using the concept of Prince as bait.”

Goddamnit, he was probably right. The Artist rubbed his eyes and fixed his glasses. “Alright. I just,” God, he was hideous. “Should I change?”

The Playwright squinted. “Have you not left your house since this all started?”

“No,” the Artist looked at him like he was stupid, “Why would I?”

Alright. Alright, this was a predicament. The Playwright blew out a lot of air, eyebrows raising as he tried to figure out, in the most concise way, he could tell the Artist that he wanted to throttle him. His attire was absolutely not correct for the setting that they’d established, and he couldn’t fathom WHY the Artist wanted to parade around a medieval town looking like THAT.

No, you know what? It was fine. Sleep was walking around in a leather jacket, it’s FINE. Perhaps the Playwright was the only one who cared about the sanctity of the setting.

Meanwhile, the Artist looked around and waved his hand. The torn paintings all disappeared, leaving the room empty, looking larger than ever. The hole in the wall faded away, establishing itself as a solid wall once more. He looked down at his outfit and simply wiped it, the paint stains all disappearing as his hand passed over them, revealing a creamy-white color once more.

“That’s good enough,” the Playwright snapped, grabbing a fist of his shirt and tugging him forward, “Come on.”

#chivalry au #roman #roman sanders #ts roman #ts fanfic #sanders sides au #this is truly a sanders au lmasdlkghasldfkj #sanders sides #my fic #fic #now i get to do all the designs for the next part oh hell yes #i love designin fancy #its always s O FUN C ASLDKFHASLKDSHASLKDHASHLDKJSFF

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the-fiction-witch · 5 years ago

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Halloween 24: spells

MOVIE: MAZE RUNNER AU X HARRY POTTER

COUPLE:NEWT X READER

RATING: SEXY FLIRTY KINDA SMUTTY

I sat in the library reading my books for that stupid profercy class tomorrow, I honestly don't know why I took the dam subject, I could have taken defence against dark arts at higher? I could have moved into full time quidditch? Hell I could have majored in potions and not deal with this goblin shit....

Ummmm there she goes, that little reason for me taking subjects I both hate and am awful at,

Singing her gently charm song she always sings her hand in her top pocket of her blazer a dark red wood with a tree coming from the handle up with the branches Around the main shaft of the wand, her black blazer Hugged her close her little white shirt under it those little buttons struggling to keep her concealed from me, her little black skirt leaving very little to my horny perverted imagination "what come on! I share a room with like sixty over boys where all frustrated and horny ... And those dam skirts don't help matters. Her little socks up to her thighs with the little blue stripe around the top, her tie done perfectly with the lines of blue and grey, her plait of purple and blue hair ran down her neck and down her right shoulder, her glasses perched on her nose like a wise beautiful little owl, I saw her walk across the library with nine million books she carried them all by hand before dumping them on a little study table just two away from my own, having a huff as she out the heavy old books down she put one down and had a seat getting started on reading and making her notes in her battered as Bogart old note book with something on the front not sure what exactly,

I sat watching her for...let's be real here a creepy amount of time, just as she got another book making notes putting one knee over the other as she worked and hummed and due to being pretty much in line with her... I saw everything, her soft pale thighs between her socks and her skirt and oooohhh boy her skirt had risen up her being sat little that, I caught a glimpse of some little green panties uuuummmm you dirty little girly, I'd give anything to get my hands on her anything in the world.

"Newt?" I heard making me jump it was y/n she had noticed me looking "are you done with the tea leaves book?" She asks looking to the little pile I had

"Ohh uhh sure here" I smile getting it for her and taking it over for her

"Thanks newt, here I made you a copy of the notes from potions 103 as you where at practice" she says handing me some papers

"Thanks y/n" I blushed "I should be heading back the guys tend to lock me out the common room when in late"

"Aww you poor thing, I'd suggest coming to mine but I'm not sure you'd get past the riddle" she says

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked

"Well... It's very complicated" she says

"What you think I'm not smart enough?" I asked

"Newt, it's not that, I've seen six dormers stuggle when it's been changed lately" she giggled

"Ohh, well guess I'll see you in potions tomorrow" I smiled getting my stuff and hurrying back to my dorm.

I yawned having a bit of a stretch before we started practice when I spotted a rare blue sight, so I went over

"Y/n? What are you doing here? Finally come down to watch me?" I smirked

"Humm? Ohh hello newt" she smiled looking up from her book "no sorry, Teresa came to watch Thomas so... Here I am" she shrugs

"You don't have to do everything Teresa does you know that right?" I laughed

"I know, it was come here with her and read or go in the library, and some first years are in there playing dungeons and dragons..." She explained

"So? You didn't even think about coming to see me?" I asked a little sad

"I didn't know who was practicing today" I shrug "we all are...it's four houses there is only four quidditch teams, well technically five if you wanna count the teachers one." I shrug

"I suppose" she giggled "Holy polyjuice, potion! What have you done to your broom?"

"Ohh? Nothing much, it's probably just from all the times I've fell on it" I explain

"Well you be careful, don't want you ending up in the nurses office" she says

"Why? I could have you come to read me stories" I smiled

"Don't push your luck newt" she warns

I smirked watching her, y/n's skirt as she bent over sorting books and papers in the library, I couldn't keep my eyes off her, I kept seeing glimpses of something under her skirt and her tights but I couldn't tell what I never got a good enough look then it hit me, I grabbed my wand from my pocket as she worked doing a quick and quiet little "leviosa" I whispered gently making one of the books flutter up like a feather so I carefully and quietly put it back down so I moved a little and pointed my wand to her skirt "leviosa" I whispered coughing a little to cover up what I said so knowone around could hear even if I do think we are the only ones in the library today gently moving my wand and slowly her skirt rose up showing me everything...

Ohh my god.

Her legs covered in that sheer over stretched nylon of those pretty black tights to her thighs, just hidden by the skirt was where they stopped attached with elastic around her thighs hugging them so close, and her panties.... Ummmmm, a pastel but bright green with some little black snakes on them, her booty looks so beautiful I just wanted to go over grab that sexy arse and rip those little panties off her but just as I was thinking that I spotted something else as she moved slightly grabbing a fallen book almost bending over uuuuuhhhh a little darker patch on those little green panties ummm she's wet! I was always done seeing her like this if I knew for sure we where alone I would be jerking myself off looking at her like this, I heard the door so I dropped her skirt and looked busy they came in and grabbed something from a desk before leaving again

"Newt what where you doing?" She asks turning to me

"What do you mean?" I ask

"Why is your wand out?" She asks

"Uhh practice?" I shrug

"Umm? What are you practicing?" She asks

"Just uhh just something" I smiled

"Give" she says marching over and holding out her hand

"No" I told her but she snached it before I could argue

"Prior Incantato" she said As she looked my wand over before turning away whispering a spell I didn't know I couldn't help it she's right here she's so close I can feel her body heat and after all I've just seen I couldn't control it I grabbed arse it was so soft and squishy the cotton of her skirt against my hands but I could feel the silky soft fabric of her panties under the skirt and she without a seconds hesitation the moment my hand was on her butt my wand was on my neck

"Hands off, or head off... Your choice newt" she warns I froze unsure what to do, I've known y/n since we started we met on the train here just a little Muggle born girl lost in this word she didn't really understand yet, I've known her so long and liked her so long. And here we are my hands on her arse and her with a wand to my neck, and just then I got the kick I needed. I slowly stood and didn't move my hands at all pulling her closer the wand still at my neck

"Why should I?" I smirked

"Why? I've got a wand to your neck" she reminded

"You won't hurt me" I smirk "I know you to well"

"Do you now? So will you kindly explain why your hands are on my arse you sick perv?" She asks

"Well you checked my wand, what spell did I cast last?" I smirked

"Levitation spell" she says "but I'm not sure what that has to-" she began

"Well after I got a look I couldn't not have a feel" I growled giving her arse a gentle grope ummmm she felt so good

"You dirty bastad" she complained trying to get away but I wouldn't lose my grip I grabbed my wand from her hand putting it in my pocket and getting her own holding it to her neck

"Humm how the tables have turned my sweet little ravenclaw" I smirked pushing her against my little table "I have a question?"

"What you perverted slitherin" she complained

"Why do you have green panties? With little snakes on them? Why in the world would a ravenclaw be wearing those? Unless it was meant to attract the attention of a certain slitherin?" I growled my hand going under her skirt feeling those pretty little panties so thin and soft even if I wanted nothing in the world but to take them of her

"I like them, there cosy" she blushed

"Are they now?... Take them off, before I do it myself" I told her

"Never!" She argued

"Y/n? I've got you trapped, I'm feeling you up as we speak sugar, come in play nice, we both know how badly we've been craving each other since we came back last summer, after all your... Growth" I smirked biting my lip glancing at her tits

"Never!" She says again

"Do you want me to take them off myself?" I smirked moving her wand to press against her mound and she flinched "because honestly I'd rather that way"

"Newt your a dirty perverted-" she began

"Tell me something I didn't know sugar" I smirked moving her wand more I could feel her heat on my hand and I wasn't even touching her yet a while "why where you so wet if you weren't craving me then?"

"How-" she began

"I saw sugar," I smirked "so? Why so wet if you weren't looking at me? There's knowone else here? What did you get all wet looking at some pretty picture book?" I asked he gently rubbing her wand on panties she shut her eyes already and I smirked "if you so desperate for wood sugar you only have to ask?"

"Newt..." She whines

"What? More sugar?" I asked her

"Newt someone could find us" she complained so I smirked getting my wand and locking all the doors as well as putting the muffling charm on his people won't hear us

"There? You going to play nice for me now?" I smirked

"Newt I don't know" she blushed so I smirked

"Acio, panties" I smirked and she clamped her legs together trying to prevent it but she couldn't stop It

"No newt please" she begs but I had them in my hand so I ripped them off her and smirked kissing down her neck she gently moaned a little as I began rubbing my rock hard Bonner against her skirt

"Now? You gonna be good?" I ask and shs nods "that's my girl, come on" I smirked pushing her on the desk and wrapping her legs around my waist.

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rudemaidenswrite · 6 years ago

Text

Silent Caress

Part 3 By: @pusantheamazonian

Leatherface/Thomas Hewitt x Blind Reader

Part 1 Part 2

You’ve created a kissing monster. Sorry not sorry.

As soon as breakfast is done, Thomas is dragging you outside.

“How?” He hastily writes.

“How what?”

“How did you know about the cannibalism?”

“Ah well at first I thought it was odd that Luda had to clarify that I was a guest in the house. Then Hoyt's payer at dinner was a red flag. Then your reluctance and hesitation to say that you're a butcher. And the blood, I couldn't place the smell but it was so familiar. Then obviously last night. When I thought about all the different reasons why. It just kept coming up cannibal.” You shrug it off.

“You are okay with this?”

“It is what it is. That reminds me, I should read you the Red Dragon.”

“Why?”

“It's about a doctor and he's a cannibal.”

“Really?” He pulls you into the shade.

“Yup!”

“I only want to devour you.” He turns, intertwining his hand with yours while the other pulls you close. Kissing his way down your neck.

“Well there's a never ending supply of that.” Giggling you grab his tie to hold him close. It tickles but it’s cute and you love this sweet side of him.

“If you two are going to be neckin’ you might want to do it out of sight.” Uncle Monty chuckles.

“Uncle Monty!” Flustered you can feel the blush spreading. Thomas is still holding onto you but you can tell he's glaring at Uncle Monty. A low growl warns him to leave.

“It's just a suggestion.” You can hear the new found pep in his step. Uncle Monty heads to the kitchen for a beer.

“What’s so funny?” Hoyt asks seeing Uncle Monty chuckling.

“Just caught Thomas and Y/N neckin’.” He nods outside.

“Really?”

“Out behind the barn near the trees.”

“I’ll be damned our boy’s becoming a man.” Hoyt gives a shit eating grin.

In the basement Thomas is sure that there will be no further interrupts for now. He has set you on the usual table. Standing in front of you, your knees pressed against his thighs.

“The bruise is going away.” He rubs the area gently.

“That’s good, I forgot all about it.”

“How?”

“It doesn't hurt so without being able to see it regularly. I forgot about it.”

Thomas frowns, why are you so pretty and cursed with your own troubles. If it was any other way he would have thought you were a model. Like the ones in his Mama's magazines. But you shy away from discussing how you look. When you had so desperately needed to know what he looked like. Praising his body before and after you had known his face. Maybe you just need to understand how he sees you.

“Soft Y/H/C hair, prettiest big Y/E/C eyes I've ever seen.” He holds your hand tightly.

“What are you talking about?”

“A smile brighter than the sun, and body with curves in all the right places. Like you were made for me.” With each word the more flustered you become, pulling at his grip.

“Where… where did that come from?”

“You said you didn't remember what you looked like. That's what I see.”

Burying your face in his chest, the tears start flowing. You can't believe he remembered that. Concerned he pushes on your shoulder.

“I'm fine… I just never expected someone to describe me like that.” Emotions boiling over you don't deserve him.

“It's true.”

“You shouldn't say things like that... when I've lied to you.” Thomas turns to stone, literally stops breathing. The fear takes him, wondering if you've been lying about loving him. “I'm alright now but… something happened when I was out with Uncle Monty.”

Thomas relaxes slightly to wrap his arms around you. The fear has turned into anger that someone hurt you.

“My cousins found out I was leaving, that's where the bruise came from not that escapie. Uncle Monty had to intervene.” A hand gently strokes your hair and you relax into his touch. “And those friends I told you that left me. They were actually my cousins, the same ones that tried to stop me.” His hold tightens. “I was scared that I would never see you again. I love you and I hate it when we don't talk.”

“You love me?”

Gasping, you didn't realize you said it. You had been thinking hard about the L word. Now you're embarrassed to say anything. Until he raises your head to figuratively look at him.

“You love me?” He cautiously write it out. Hoping he didn't hear you wrong.

“Yes.” Your face heats up and it's not because of the heat.

In a moment of pure joy Thomas kisses you. Ecstatic that you do love him. Fisting his shirt with both hands, the worn fabric threatens to tear as you lean into the kiss.

The creaking of the floorboards above pulls him away. He doesn't like having all these interruptions. Releasing his shirt you fidget with the hole forming on your pants leg. Both waiting for the all clear.

“You're staring.” Straightening up you poke his belly.

“How do you know?”

“It’s just a feeling, as if the air has changed and it’s only in your direction.”

“You have a problem with that?”

“No, I want to know why you’re staring.”

“You're beautiful. Why shouldn't I?”

“Such a complimenter but that doesn't explain why.”

“I… was thinking how lucky I am that you love me.”

A blush sets in. “That's a silly reason, everyone should be loved.” In the silence he caresses your cheek, running his hand through your hair.

“Well look at the love birds.” Hoyt jokes. Your face immediately becomes hot and you turn away. “I hate to break up this beautiful moment but Thomas has some work to do and Y/N you better be getting on upstairs.” The stairs creak as he goes back up. With a small groan Thomas lifts you off the table, setting you down at the stairs.

“I’ll see you later then. I’ll be my room if you want to come up when you’re done.” Biting your lip, you reveal in hesitancy he has to let you go. Delighting in the way he stalled when you mentioned coming to your room.

“I will.”

Upstairs you grab a book from your backpack. Which is still on the ground by the door where Thomas left it. Climbing onto the bed, you move the pillows so you're able to prop yourself up against the headboard. It's a long time before you hear anyone come upstairs.

The footsteps lead right to your door. There's a knock followed by a soft grunt as they move closer.

“Hi Thomas. Are you finished?” Another low grunt as he sits on the bed. “That sounds sooo exciting.” Teasing, you pretend that he told you all about it. But you already know that he's not going to tell you any details since he doesn't like it in the first place.

“What are you reading?”

“Don Quixote.”

“What?”

“Don Quixote it's a story about a middle-aged man from La Mancha, Spain. Obsessed with the chivalrous romantic ideals he has read about, he loses his sanity. Deciding to become a knight to defend the helpless and destroy the wicked while reviving chivalry.” The confused silence from Thomas let's you know that you went way over his head in the literature department. “Basically this elderly guy decides to become a hero. He's old, forgetful and clumsy but does things to help people. And nothing goes as planned for him.”

“Uncle Monty when he's drunk.”

“Possibly.” You try hiding your laugh. It's a funny picture to imagine.

“Will you read it to me?”

“Sure, I'll start at the beginning.” Closing the book, you restart the story. Your fingers softly grazing the braille. “In a village of La Mancha, the name of which I have no desire to call to mind, there lived not long since one of those gentlemen that keep a lance in the lance-rack, an old buckler, a lean hack, and a greyhound for coursing. An olla of rather more beef than mutton, a salad on most nights, scraps on Saturdays, lentils on Fridays, and a pigeon or so extra on Sundays, made away with three-quarters of his income. The rest of it went in a doublet of fine cloth and velvet breeches and shoes to match for holidays, while on week-days he made a brave figure in his best homespun. He had in his house a housekeeper past forty, a niece under twenty, and a lad for the field and market-place, who used to saddle the hack as well as handle the bill-hook. The age of this gentleman of ours was bordering on fifty; he was of a hardy habit, spare, gaunt-featured, a very early riser and a great sportsman. They will have it his surname was Quixada or Quesada, although from reasonable conjectures it seems plain that he was called Quexana. This, however, is of but little importance to our tale; it will be enough not to stray a hair’s breadth from the truth in the telling of it.”

Pausing you put the book down, the snores coming from Thomas are soothing. With his head in your lap, he fell asleep almost instantly. Playing with his hair you wonder why anyone would be mean to him. He’s a big softie with super strength.

There’s another knock and your head snaps up.

“Oh how precious. Do you want me to wake him?” Luda whispers not really wanting to interrupt this picture perfect moment.

“No its fine. I’m still reading.”

“Well if you need anything let me know.”

“I will. ”

You feel a little uneasy about this. His family seems to pushing you two together but cautious while still teasing the two of you. It’s not like the two aren’t already attached at the hip. It’s probably just their way of protecting him, since they don’t want him to end up alone and hurt.

You wake up with Thomas’s arm around you. His breath tickling your hair while you feel the rise and fall of his chest with your hand. This moment feels perfect, sighing you snuggle closer. It maybe the hopeless romantic in you but you’ve fallen hard for him. You just hope he feels the same way you do. His arm tightens around you and buries his face in your hair.

“Hello.” Chuckling at his action. There's a low rumble from his chest. “What time is it?”

“Early.”

“Good. That means we can stay right here.” Pressing yourself closer. “I told you, you would be great at cuddling.” Smiling you breath in his scent slowly drifting back to sleep.

Thomas woke up before you this time. Softly trailing a finger down your face. He can't help but to wonder if you're really an angel. You may not be able to see but you know his true face and still called him handsome. Only his mama calls him that.

There's so many questions he has but there's not enough time for the answers. Why do you love him? Why do you trust him so much? Do you really promise to stay forever? He can't shake the feeling that you have bewitched him somehow, no one as perfect as you would willing be with him. But he knew he had to have you the moment you first smiled at him during dinner. The surprising amount of optimism you had to communicate with him is what did him in. That was the moment he knew he was in love.

Fidgeting you bury your face further into his chest. But the light touches on your face don’t stop. Mindlessly swatting at whatever it is you wearily open your eyes to feel Thomas staring. Just staring at you with no real purpose.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Awhile.”

“And you’ve just been waiting?”

“Yes.”

“Such a softie.”

“You should get ready before they wonder why you’re not up.”

“Why? I’m pretty sure they already know that there’s something going on between us.”

“All the more reason.” He places a kiss on your forehead.

“Uh huh.” You reluctantly detach yourself and go to the dresser. “Well then you can pick out what color dress I'm gonna wear today. Since you're still here.” You pull out a couple dresses and lay them on the bed.

The bed springs creak from movement and soon the floorboards do as he hands you one.

“Blue.”

“Thank you. Now shoo so I can get dressed.” Smiling you give him a quick peck on the lips and nod at the door.

“Why?”

“Thomas Hewitt you are ornery this morning. You will not see me naked unless there's a ring on my finger.” Surprised at his stubbornness and boldness you push him to the door. More like you lean against the unbudging wall of muscle. Thomas chuckles at your attempt to push him out.

“I'll see you later.”

“Ok-” He steals a kiss while you're mid sentence. The door closes and you can hear his footsteps go down the stairs. “That sneaky... he's sure become confident in stealing kisses.” Sighing you might have created a kissing monster. Putting up the other clothes up, you slip on the dress he picked. A blue short sleeved sundress with pockets. It's always a good idea to have pockets.

Finishing up your heart beats faster as you get excited. You started wondering if later the kissy monster will take off his mask so you can get some proper kissing going on. Walking down stairs you come up with some back up plans if he says no.

For the past couple nights Thomas has begun sneaking into your room at night to cuddle. Holding you tightly against him like you were going to disappear. It's nice waking up to someone else in the morning. It strangely makes you feel complete.

Coincidently Luda has started bringing you to the station with her. Saying you could do with some routines so you wouldn't have to be stuck at the house all the time. Thomas comes and fetches you after lunch time. He takes what he calls a shortcut back to the house. It's not much of a short cut since it goes through some woods and a pasture. Reaching the woods he picks you up and carries you the whole way, only setting you down when he's reached the edge of the yard. You tell him every time that he doesn't have to carry you, you're fine with walking the long way around. You don't want him to injure himself. But he won't listen to it, he just holds you tightly. Positioning you so you can sit upright and see him. In these moments you lean against his shoulder playing with his hair. Asking simple yes or no questions, or just talking about random things on your mind.

But today you had remembered a joke you wanted to tell him. With Luda back from her break you know he would be here any moment know. It may not seem like it but he likes to stick with routines. It makes him feel safe and calm when there's a routine.

The husky breathing and creaking floorboards coming from the back alert you to Thomas's presence. He prefers to enter from the back to avoid people. The slow sliding of fingers down your arm confirm it.

“Hi Thomas. Oh! I have a joke to tell you. I've been thinking of it all morning.” He squeezes your hand wanting you to continue. “What do you get when you cross a vampire with a snowman?” He draws a question mark. “Frost bite.” There's a long pause before he answers.

“What?”

“Frostbite. You know a vampire bites people and a snowman is frozen, made of snow. Frostbite is when your skin is exposed to freezing temperatures too long…. Any of this making sense?”

“You're not good at jokes.”

“Oh how rude. I should punish you by telling you all the corny jokes I know!” Poking him you act offended. You know they're corny that's the whole point.

The bell over the door rings and you ignore it. Luda's here so you don't have to worry about trying to help the person. But that changed when the confused voice of your cousin Derick pulls your full attention from Thomas to the front door.

“Y/N?”

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jennifersylvesters · 6 years ago

Text

not so subtle - part six

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x reader Word Count: 4.7k~ Warning: swearing, smut, potential angst? A/N: PLEASE READ. PLEASE PLEASE READ THIS NOTE! this part has smut in it so if you are not eighteen and older / not comfortable with smut, DO. NOT. READ. that being said, i understand that there are people out there that fall into those categories. i would never want to make anyone feel like a part is unaccessible to them, which is why there will be a “not so subtle” - part six [ clean-ish] version coming out as well. ( aka still keeping the swears but none of the hanky panky. ) for anyone curious as to why i didn’t just keep a clean-ish version: it’s mostly because i’ve never written smut before. i wanted to test my skills as a writer so if it’s not the best, i do apologize for that. anywhoo - like always, feedback is appreciated/loved aka start the new year off right and give it to me please.

A couple days after the Christmas disaster, you came to the conclusion that you were done with love. If the universe didn’t want you to have a boyfriend, fine by you. In fact, you didn’t need a man. You especially didn’t need Steven.

“You’re a fucking catch” Kimberly reassured you the next day after you explained what happened. “Steven would’ve been lucky to have you. But he’s a complete idiot.”

“I am a fucking catch” you sobbed into a tub of ice cream, wishing that if you said it enough you might finally believe it.

Who needed a relationship? Not you.

You decided that you could be one of those carefree girls who slept with whomever they wanted. They all looked relatively happy with no strings attached. You could totally do that, flouncing around from guy to guy without any worries. Feelings didn’t matter. If Harrison could do it so easily, why couldn’t you? Not that you were thinking of Harrison. Harrison who?

Romance was overrated, anyways.

You planned on putting this resolution into motion as soon as possible. What better time to start than with New Year’s Eve just around the corner?

It came as no surprise that Tom and Emma got tickets to an exclusive Vegas party for New Year’s Eve. Of course they invited you along, claiming there was no one better to join them in the festivities. Naturally you accepted their offer. Nothing sounded better than ringing in the new year in actual style.

Tom had been generous enough to set you up with your own room in the hotel. Even if he didn’t say it, you knew he felt bad about how your year had been. This was his attempt of doing you a solid. And it turns out, he wasn’t completely clueless when it came to nice hotel rooms.

You whistled as you opened the door to a pristinely white hallway. You parked your luggage near the entrance as walked into the actual living quarters. Holy shit. The space was massive complete with amenities beyond your imagination. It seemed tempting to just leave your college life behind and just live in this room forever.

Running your hand along the silky sheets of your bed, you grinned thinking how lucky you got to have a king size all to yourself. An enormous television was plastered to the wall right across from the bed, and you planned on lazing around with it on during your spare time.

A small living room arrangement was set up complete with a couch and a couple of sofa chairs. No surprise that Tom left a note saying you could have as many treats in the mini fridge as you wanted. Don’t mind if I do, Thomas.

The best part about the room as that you had a balcony view. As you stepped outside, you let out a whistle. It truly was a sight to behold. You glanced around taking in the sight of famous Vegas landmarks. The hotel included two chairs and a lounge couch on the balcony for your viewing pleasure. Not too shabby.

You spent the afternoon relaxing with Emma before the two of you got ready for the party. Even while Tom insisted on getting the group bottle service at the club, you didn’t want to go into the party completely sober. So you and your best friend lightly pregamed in preparation. Emma classily sipped on champagne while you occasionally chugged the most expensive bottle of wine the hotel offered. And while she didn’t approve of your plan of hooking up, Emma made sure to perfect your makeup and hair for you.

As the sun set and the city lights twinkled throughout the strip, the three of you headed up to the party. No surprise that your group was able to cut the line and quickly enter the club. Perks of having a famous friend.The loud music blared as Emma held onto your hand, not wanting to lose you in the crowd. Even with its exclusivity, so many bodies packed into the venue. Not that you were particularly bothered. The alcohol had kicked in and you felt completely relaxed.

It wasn’t until you heard Tom shouting out his best friend’s name that your mouth turned slightly downwards.

You hadn’t seen Harrison since that night, and you hadn’t been sure if you wanted to. What were you supposed to say? “Thanks for taking care of me before completely disappearing off my radar?” Hell no.

Swiveling around, you followed Emma as the two of you approached Tom and Harrison. No surprise that Harrison looked amazing wearing a crisp, dark shirt with the top couple buttons unfastened. When didn’t he look hot? You tried your best to pull yourself out of these thoughts. No. Absolutely not. You were not going to ever admit that he looked good again. These were the type of romantic thoughts that you wanted to avoid.

Harrison pulled Emma in for a hug and once he released her, he simply smiled and nodded at you. It was as if nothing happened at all.

You wondered if Harrison eventually told Tom about that night. A couple days after the incident, Tom persistently bugged you about why you left early during his party, curious about what transpired. And when he found out you supposedly had a new boyfriend, he tried to ask about Steven. A tiny part of him was sad you hadn’t progressed with Harrison, but he was mostly excited about you finally finding someone. Or so he thought.

It of course wasn’t his fault. He didn't know any better. So you told him how you were still single and choked out a fake laugh. Tom regretted asking, and both of you wished that the conversation never happened.

“Oh, look! There’s Greg!” Emma excitedly pointed out, pulling you out of your thoughts. You weren’t sure who she was referring to though her boyfriend did.

“We should go say hi!” Tom suggested as he took Emma’s hand in his.

“I don’t know who Greg is” you announced in a drunken haze, but it didn’t matter as you were pulled along. Greg was a nice enough fellow, but you found yourself bored with the conversation. Who cared about the formulation of publicity? Definitely not you. So you let go of Emma’s hand and made your way to the bar.

You ordered a cranberry vodka and put it on Tom's tab, sipping slowly through a straw as you looked into the crowd. It seemed like everyone was either on the dance floor or mingling amongst one another.

“Can I get a Guiness, mate?” a familiar voice asked behind you. Turning slightly, you bit down on the straw as you realized it was Harrison. He slipped his card to the bartender before thanking him and taking a swig of his beer. Feeling your gaze, he turned your way. “What?” His tone wasn’t aggressive or irritated; it was simply curious.

“What?” you mimicked him, though you found yourself sounding defensive.

“You’re staring, Lil Skunk. Just wanted to know what’s up with that.” It was harmless enough, but the comment caught you off guard.

The alcohol let your honesty flow out. “Surprised you don’t have some girl draped all over you, Lil Shit.”

He turned away from you, taking another sip. “Just keeping my options open.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” You shook your head as you walked away, not noticing Harrison carefully watching you.

Throughout the rest of the night you stuck near Tom and Emma’s side. You spent a bit of time on the dance floor enjoying yourself with some brunette before Emma yanked you away when she felt he was getting too handsy with you. You informed her that it was the point of letting him grind up on you, but it was too late to get him back. And as midnight approached, you realized that people were beginning to scramble around.

Flirting was at an all time high, people claiming others with hand holding or draping their arms around one another. Everyone was trying to pair off before the countdown.

Who cares? That was what you kept repeating in your head. You hadn’t kissed anyone last year on New Year’s Eve, so why worry about it this year? Who cares? It wasn’t going to affect your life in any significant way possible. So who cares?

Fuck. You kinda cared.

You didn’t want to start off the new year alone. You didn’t want to have that tinge of jealousy about how adorable Tom and Emma looked or wish that you could have the same rapport with someone the same way Kimberly and Sarah did. And even if it was just a stranger that you made out with, at least you were putting yourself out there for once.

All you needed to do was be completely carefree like you wanted. The plan was easy enough. You just had to do was kiss someone. Anyone.

Except you didn’t particularly want to do it the same way strangers in the club were doing. This wasn’t supposed to be a grab and go scenario. It had to be someone you at least knew. You pondered if Greg could be a viable choice, but the idea was dismissed once you looked around and spotted Greg holding on to the waist of a blonde. Thanks for nothing, Greg.

There’s always Harrison. The idea whispered in the back of your mind, reminding you it was a possibility. You didn’t like that small voice, but at the moment it wasn’t wrong.

What was the worst that could happen? Well he could say no or shove you off. But rejection was something you were used to. It was worth a shot, and you had enough bravery in your system right at that moment.

So you threw back the last of your drink before slamming it on a table. The search for Harrison was on. As the DJ shouted that only a minute remained, you dashed around trying to find him. C’mon c'mon. The one time you wanted to actually see him, and you were struggling harder than ever.

“Thirty seconds, folks!” the DJ announced right as you spotted Harrison. You began pushing through the crowd, muttering “excuse me” and “coming through”. The liquid courage cheered you on, telling you to do the unthinkable. And with only a couple seconds to spare, you were glad yet surprised that no girls surrounded him.

Three!

“Osterfield!”

Two!

“Hmm?” he turned around to the sound of your voice, raising an eyebrow. You felt the warmth from the alcohol encouraging you. It was now or never. You quickened your pace, rushing over to Harrison.

One!

You grabbed his face and pulled the boy in towards you. Your lips crashed against his, eyes squeezing shut. And just as you were about to release him, you felt his arms wrap around your waist pulling you in. The kiss continued and only broke off when you needed air.

Breathing heavily, you looked at the Brit. He scanned your face, looking for something; you weren’t sure what. Only seconds later did his lips reconnect with yours. It was an overwhelming sensation, his hands roaming all over your body while he began to kiss your neck. As he trailed down, you heard yourself let out a low moan, eyes fluttering shut.

“Fuck” he hissed and you opened your eyes to take in the sight of disheveled Harrison, lips swollen. Despite the loud celebration going on all around, you focused on him. Only him. He looked at you expectantly, swallowing nervously. You pulled out of his embrace and for a second he looked disappointed. It wasn’t until you took his hand in yours that he broke out into a small smile. Even with the chaos surrounding, you pushed through the crowd and led him to the elevators.

Despite the alcohol in your system, you started to feel your nerves on edge. Your heart was pounding so loud that you paid no mind to the drunken shouts around the lobby. All you could hear was your own heart thumping and eventually the ‘ding’ of the elevator.

The two of you surprisingly were the only two in the lift. It made you even more nervous, with nothing to distract you from the boy still holding your hand tightly.

When you stopped at your room, you let go of his hand to find your key card. There wasn't much in your bag yet you fumbled with the miscellaneous items, unable to find the pass. You knew you had it, but your hands shook from the jitters in your stomach. Where had you put it? It was embarrassing enough that you threw yourself at him, but now you couldn’t even properly hook up? How to hook up 101: be more prepared than this mess.

He placed his hand on yours and when you looked up at him, he just smiled and nodded his head towards the right. Oh. Of course Tom got his best friend a room as well. Obviously. Harrison took your hand and guided you towards his room only a couple doors down. And even though his room wasn’t far, you liked that he intertwined his fingers with yours. He scanned his key card, letting you into the room but keeping his hand locked with yours.

His room was similar to yours except a couple of decoration details. When you turned to tell him that, he caught you off guard by kissing you immediately. He let the door shut by itself, continuously kissing you until you found yourself backed up against the wall. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck and you felt him grinning into your kisses.

He took this as approval to lean in closer, hands beginning to wander. This was all unfamiliar territory, and he had every intention of exploring all of you.

You whimpered at his touch, unused to this sensation. But when his hand cupped your breast, you found your body tensing up.

He pulled away, frantically glancing at you. His hands immediately moved from your body. “Sorry, is this-I didn’t mean to-” Harrison apologized, clearly concerned about your wellbeing.

You shook your head and apologized to him, wishing that you could’ve played it cool instead of tensing up. You reminded yourself that you wanted to be casual and carefree. So why were you panicking?

“We don’t- We don’t have...If you don’t want this, tell me and we can stop” he reminded you.

And there it was. Harrison in all his soft glory was concerned about you more than you ever expected. It was those blue eyes staring down at you, hoping for a yes but knowing he wouldn’t do anything if you said no. There was something about him in that moment that had you understanding why you couldn’t get him off your mind.

So you cupped his face gently in your hands and softly kissed him. When you pulled away, there were those ocean eyes still asking for permission, waiting for you to voice your answer. “I want this” you confirmed as you nodded your head. He closed his eyes for a second, as if to savor the moment, before he smiled and pressed his lips against yours once more.

Your reply was all he needed to understand he could continue. He lifted you up, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He continued kissing you, one hand around your waist while the other gripped your ass tight until he got to the bed. He laid you down gently before peppering kisses along your jaw. Your eyes shut, enjoying the sensation of him showering you with affection. When he stopped, they opened to see Harrison unbuttoning his shirt. He discarded it to the side, and your breath hitched.

It was as if Harrison was nothing short of magic, gazing down on you as if you were the only person in the world that mattered. Without thinking, you hands pressed against his chest in awe. You had seen his abs before but not this way.

You blushed upon realizing what you did, pulling your hands back. He chuckled and took them in his as if to say it was alright. He kissed both palms before hovering above your body.

You heart raced as he slowly trailed kisses down your chest. As he moved down, he kept one hand on your breast as he gently massaged it. Hearing you moan out to his touch, he began caressing it rougher. “Do you like that?” Of course he knew the answer but he wanted to hear it from you. All you could do was nod in response.

He pushed up the hem of your dress and you could feel his warm breath on your legs. You shivered as he kissed your inner thighs, taking his time with you. He sucked on your skin knowing this would leave marks, and you bit down on your lip. “Are you mine, love?” he asked before nipping at your skin once more. This time a nod wasn’t enough for him. He looked up at you expectantly, a cheeky smile on his face. You managed to croak out a yes, to which he praised you for being such a good girl for him. You bit down harder as you felt him tug off your underwear.

Your heartbeat stilled for a moment, feeling his breath on your core. As his tongue licked along your slit, you let out a short gasp. He seemed to revel in your reaction, pushing his tongue into you and getting a proper taste.

This wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to satisfy every part of your inner desires. Starting off with one finger, he slowly inserted it inside you as your walls tightened. He began pushing in and out, causing you to grip his hair. You heard him mutter how amazing you were, how he couldn’t get enough. He slipped in another finger and proceeded to speed up his pace. He added his tongue, circling it along your folds.

You couldn’t help but squirm as he sucked on your clit, getting off on watching you become a mess. His voice murmured for you to behave for him, be a good girl. Yet it was difficult for you to focus with his fingers pumping in and out of you so vigorously. You moaned out his name, and something about it triggered him intensely. He gripped your hip tightly as he licked your folds dipping in and out as your breathing became more rugged.

“Are you gonna come for me, darling?” he coaxed, curling his fingers inside of you. You cried out his name once more, gripping his hair as he continued to tease you. Your toes curled as you could feel it coming. He pumped his fingers into you faster, hitting your g-spot repeatedly until at last you found your release. Letting go of your grip on his hair you whimpered as the rhythm of his fingers slowed, letting you ride out your orgasm.

He wasn’t done with you yet. As he kicked off his shoes and unbuckled his pants, you followed suit. You pushed off your heels and shimmied out of your dress, tossing it aside without thought. All you cared about was Harrison who wandered towards the night stand where he pulled out a condom packet. He let his boxers drop to the ground, and you found yourself sinking further into the bed upon looking at this length.

Harrison rolled the condom over his girth, tossing the package to the side. Your heartbeat sped up as he hovered above you once more. He paused, taking in your nervous expression. He ran his hand along your cheek, and you leaned into his touch; it was as if to say you were ready. He smiled as he placed a kiss upon your forehead.

Without a word, he gestured for you to lie back down as he positioned himself. He teased your entrance, rubbing his member against your folds. You whimpered, eager for his cock. He slid into you when you mewled out a please, unable to contain himself any longer.

He thrust into you slowly at first, groaning at your tightness. Despite cumming earlier, you weren’t prepared for his size. As your body began to relax, Harrison picked up his pacing pushing his cock in faster. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, grunting deeply with every thrust. His touch was becoming rougher, yet you craved more. Your nails clawed his back as he pounded into you while cursing out praises.

“Fuck, baby, you’re amazing” he hissed as he sucked on your neck. He would change up the pace, slowly pulling out of you before thrusting in you quickly causing you to utter out expletives with how good he was. He showed no signs of slowing down, and you understood how much of a difference it truly made to have someone who knew exactly what they were doing. You gently panted, toes curling again as he hoisted one of your legs up. You could feel yourself reaching climax and with a final thrust, you seem to fall to pieces. “Fuck, Harrison” you moaned. He grunted as he came, elbow propping to keep himself up. He slowly pulled out of you and tied off the condom, tossing it into the nearby waste basket.

You laid there breathing heavily as Harrison rolled over to the right and onto his side. You heard him murmur your name, and you slowly turned towards him. Harrison eyed your hand as he begun moving his own. He gently tapped each finger along the mattress, slowly inching his hand towards yours. He paused and looked you in the eyes, almost as if asking permission. You nodded your head and he gently took your hand in his. As he rubbed your palm with his thumb, you studied his face.

He smiled at you, shy and nervous. This wasn’t the Harrison you were used to. This boyish charm was making you melt that you couldn’t help but brush you lips against his. When you pulled away, you heard him ruggedly mutter “no” before kissing you once again.

So this was why girls kept coming back to Harrison. It was the rough yet tender moments that left you wanting more. Even now you weren’t sure if anyone else would ever compare.

And you didn’t want to let go of this moment. This Harrison - the one who kissed your nose and laughed as you scrunched your face - this was the Harrison you so desperately wanted to keep forever. It was this Harrison who held you tightly and pressed his lips against your shoulder that you adored. You weren’t sure you could ever give up of this sensation.

“What?” you asked nervously as the two of you rested next to one another. Harrison propped himself up with his back on the headboard, looking down at you.

He studied your face, making you feel self-conscious. Had your makeup smeared? Did you not look as great as before? Worries filled your head, anxious of what faults he could find. The next thing you knew his hand was gently tracing your features, smiling as it settled on your cheek. “It’s nothing. I’m just...I like it here with you, love” he reassured you.

Your breath hitched hearing your favorite nickname, and you were once again swept up in the moment. How could you not be? You sat up and straddled his lap, kissing him deeply.

“Say it again.” You couldn’t get enough of his voice calling out that nickname as if you were the only person who mattered.

“What? Addicted to me now?” You rolled your eyes as he let out a chuckle. “I like it here with you, love” he repeated. “I like all of this. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of you, darling.” It caused your heart to swell, bursting out into a wide grin before kissing him roughly. And with fervor eagerness, he pulled you in close ready to explore your body once more.

Even with Harrison laying beside you, it still felt unreal. You could touch his soft face and felt his arm draped around your waist, but you kept having to remind yourself that it wasn’t a dream.

So you got your wish of hooking up with someone for New Years Eve. You managed to do it with Harrison of all people. You wanted this. You really did. But not this way.

You knew Harrison. You knew the beautiful women who practically threw themselves at him only to be relegated to a one night stand or referred to as “just a friend”. You knew how he would give them his attention, but they were never capable of becoming his. And now you understood why some of them were satisfied with just being a fling.

And you knew yourself. You knew how much of an idiot you could be around men, how easily you gave away your heart in hopes of finding romance. Just a bit of affection and you were putty in their hands.

You wanted someone to be all in with you. As much as you wanted a carefree attitude about relationships, it would never happen. You craved love and the idea of someone being so infatuated with you that they couldn’t get enough. And as much as you wished the impossible, you knew it wouldn’t be with Harrison. What occurred in the bedroom was nothing short of spectacular, but it wasn’t going to last outside of it like you hoped.

Hearing him lightly snore, you slowly slipped out of the covers. It took all of your strength to ignore the feeling of staying in bed when you felt his arm slightly tighten around you. You sucked in your breath, waiting until his grip softened and then slid out of the bed. Slowly you tiptoed around as you collected your clothing and put them on. Checking your purse, you managed to find your key card before taking one last glance back at Harrison.

He looked so peaceful, arm still sprawled out in the spot where you once rested. You would’ve given anything for him to wake up and tell you to stay. But he was sound asleep lost in his dreams.

You couldn’t help but tiptoe back to his side once more, pressing a kiss against his messy hair. Hearing him mumble your name as he smiled in his sleep almost convinced you to stay.

Almost.

Instead you shuffled away and back to the entryway of his room. You slowly opened the door to decrease the sound of creaking before gently pulling the door behind you. And as you walked back to your room, you wondered if Harrison would ever settle down. Would he ever find someone he liked enough that he wouldn’t think of anyone else besides her? Did you want to be that person? ...Maybe.

As you entered your room, the excitement of having a spacious place to yourself was gone. Instead you just felt lonely. There was no one to enjoy the balcony view with, no one to eat snacks with, and no one to watch late night television with you. You threw your heels to the side before changing out of your clothes and into pajamas. Yanking the bed sheets from their tucked corners so you could get comfortable, you nestled underneath the covers letting the plethora of pillows surround you.

You wondered if Harrison was still peacefully sleeping or if he noticed that you left already. Would he question where you went or if you planned on coming back? Or would he be relieved he didn’t need to kick you out of his room like the rest of his female companions?

And as drowsiness crept in, you couldn’t help but wonder what this meant for the two of you. Would he look at you the same way - still just Lil Skunk - or would he view you with newly discovered amazement in his eyes that he had in the bedroom? You wanted the latter, for him to look at you the way he looked at you all night. But then again, you knew that was wishful thinking.

tags list: @sleepybesson, @tomhaz | @almostrosadiazz, @bbk8lin, @blackstarryroses, @butithasntkilledyouyet, @chims-kookies, @choke-me-sweet-pea, @highladyjel, @hollandhearts, @kateelyse96, @mylifesucksbuthereiam, @otheenglishsetters, @sadnoelle, @sarcasticvodka, @sleepwalkingdragon, @soccerstud004, @spider-mendes, @thefallenbibliophilequote ( if your username is in bold, for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you normally?? ) | @strwwberrymilk ( lemme know if you want to stay on the tags list? )

part seven

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x y/n #haz osterfield #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x you #haz osterfield x y/n #haz osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield fanfiction #haz osterfield fic #haz osterfield fanfiction #my writing #fic: not so subtle

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