#For those obviously unaware because I don’t talk about it. I have bad knees.

[00-spirit-00]

Hell on earth is when you're finally getting good rest and going to bed at a good time JUST to be wake up five hours in pissed off because (???). And now you are having trouble going back to sleep because your legs HURT.

[dasaniperson]

So I had this idea where Scout actually knows Spy is his father during that infamous death scene. Then I wrote a short five about it

———————————————————————

Scout knew he was dying. The pain from his wound was numb by now, but the puddle of blood below him kept growing and he was just so tired.

It was a lot different than he expected, actually. He thought dying would be confusing and fast, like a dream, but instead he was calm. It wasn’t the happy kind of calm, nor the sad kind. It was just… blank. Everything was so perfectly quiet.

His perfect silence was interrupted by the sound of dress shoes clacking, another set of footsteps, this time without any shoes, and a voice.

“— own by monk tailors since the seventh century.” It was Spy talking. He kind of hoped that he’d just pass by him. “ I will let you use it as an adult diaper when you pry it off my cold,” He could see the edge of Spy's shoulder coming around the corner. “dead,” he was all the way around the corner, but faced back towards whoever was with him. “body.” The last word was cut short as Spy saw him. Sniper peaked around the corner and his face fell. Spy just kind of looked… surprised.

“Mate.” Sniper said to Spy. Spy sighed and put his face in his hand, looking exasperated. It didn’t surprise him. Spy barely seemed to respect him as a person, much less someone to grieve. Spy should feel something though, at least as a father. “Yes. I know.” There’s no sympathy in his tone, it’s the same voice he uses during work. “Give us a moment.” Is he really going to die with Spy? Maybe he should be happy to die with his father, most people would take this as a last minute blessing from the heavens. Then again, he hasn’t believed in god since he got his dog tags.

Spy makes his way over to him and crouches down. He shoves one hand into his pocket, the other clutching a wood plank. Upon closer inspection his knee has a splash of blood on it. “Scout. There’s something I need to tell you.” Is he finally going to confess to being his father? Scout’s known for a good four years now, and he got over it all quickly enough, it’s not like Spy ever tried to make anything of their relationship. Still, Scout can’t help but be curious as to why or how any of it happened. His eyes flick away from him. “I…” Spy has a chance right now to begin to redeem himself in Scout’s eyes.

“I’ll be right back.”

For a second Scout can’t believe it. But then he’s blazing with anger. Of course. Of course Spy would leave him to die. Of course Spy wouldn’t take the last opportunity he’ll ever have to make up with his son. Of course. It’s Spy after all. Why is he so mad? He knew it would end like this.

Maybe he’s mad because Spy gave him hope then ripped it away immediately. Or maybe it’s because Spy disappointed him again, but no, it’s not any of those. It’s because he expected it. He expected Spy to leave him. He knew Spy wouldn’t even try to look sad for his sake. His anger gives way to sadness. Then Tom Jones comes around the corner.

At first Scout thinks it’s his brain playing tricks on him. There’s no way Tom Jones is here of all places. He looked too perfect to be here, exactly how Scout imagined him, except this Tom Jones has a wooden board tucked under his arm. Just like Spy, minus the pink coloration and giant letters on it. Ah. That should probably have been obvious from the beginning. Spy walks over.

“What’s new, pussycat?” Scout almost wants to laugh over the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, but he can’t find the strength. Why is Spy disguising himself as Tom Jones of all people? Sure scout looks up to him and all, but only as a musician, never on a personal level. If Spy thinks that this is what would make Scout happy, then he really is blind.

He crouches down again. “Scout… do you know my hit song, Sex Bomb?” What is Spy saying? Bringing up Sex Bomb right now? Nevertheless, Scout nods slightly, going along with whatever Spy is leading up to. “Scout, twenty seven years ago I dropped a ‘Sex Bomb’ on your mother.” So Spy’s really going there, huh? “I was young then, and I ran from the explosion.” That’s his excuse then. He was young. Maybe Scout can understand that. But he never came back. Even when he met Spy again when he was hired at only seventeen, Spy still didn’t even try. “But now the fallout of that Sex Bomb has caught up with me.” Is that all he is to Spy? An accident caused by his own foolishness? “This is where the analogy starts to break down, so if it’s alright with you I’ll retire the Sex Bomb metaphor now.”

But then he sees it. And maybe it’s just because Tom Jones’s face is infinitely more expressive than Spy’s, but he looks… sad. He’s got this downtrodden look to him. Spy reaches a hand forward and onto Scout’s shoulder “You’re stronger than you’ll ever know, Jeremy.”

Jeremy. Spy used his real name. Jeremy had actually thought he didn’t know it for a while. Then Spy’s words sink in. Did Spy really think Jeremy was strong? He’d never even hinted at so much as liking Jeremy. As likely as it was that Spy was lying, Jeremy couldn’t quite find it in himself to think that.

“I’m proud of you.” Proud? He didn’t know what Spy had to be proud of. “I’ve always been proud of you.” Always? Why had he never shown it then? “Son.”

Son? He had given up that chance a long time ago, when he abandoned him. When he never told him that he was his dad. When he put on that godforsaken Tom Jones disguise. He couldn’t come back and take the title of father at the last second, and to be honest? Scout hadn’t needed a father in years. Spy had made the choice not to raise him when he had the chance, and now Jeremy’s twenty seven, he’s an adult. An adult that grew up a long time ago, nothing’s going to change that now.

So as he looks up at Tom Jones’s eyes he actually wishes that they were Spy's for once. At least then he could have proven to Jeremy that he wasn’t a complete wimp.

Jeremy knows he has to say something, he won’t let Spy live with the fact that he hid behind a mask during his child’s final moments. Jeremy sighs, and he knows that it’s his final breath. And he utters one word

“Coward”

And then he was gone.

————

“Hey Henry?” He looked up at his oldest brother. “Yeah?” Henry looked down at him, smiling. “How’re you always so brave?” It was true. Henry never seemed to fear anything. He would face kids twice his size without hesitation if they were doing something mean. “It ain’t bravery kid, it’s just that I gotta do something when I see bad stuff goin’ on” That didn’t make any sense. How could Henry not be brave? “I don’t understand” Henry had told him to ask when he didn’t get what he was saying. “Well kid, if there’s something you don’t like, you gotta change it, and you can’t do that by doing nothing,” Jeremy supposed that made sense, but Henry was still brave, no matter what he said.

“If there’s something you don’t like, you gotta change it,”

And then he was back.

————

He was back in that blood spattered hallway, surrounded by broken to bits robots. And holy fuck ow his wound was definitely still there and so were Spy and Sniper, who was naked for some reason. They were both walking away, unaware that he was alive. He tried to call out, but all that came out was a weak cough. Sniper turned around first “Well, I’ll be…” then Spy turned around. He said nothing but pure relief on his face. Maybe he did care. Spy hobbled over to him and lifted him up off the floor. Holding one of Scout’s arms over his shoulder for support. He nodded slightly to Sniper, who turned around and headed back down the way they had been going. “So, you figured it out.” Spy spoke suddenly, obviously referring to his fatherhood “Yeah,” he didn’t really have the energy to give a long winded response. “When did you figure it out?” “Four years ago.” He answers honestly. It may have been easier to lie and say it was only at the very end when he figured out. It may have saved them all a lot of explaining “and you never told me you knew?” It was a fair inquiry, but Scout didn’t have any one solid answer to that, “never came up.” Spy rolls his eyes at the lackluster answer. “We’re going to be talking about this later.” He had known that was going to happen. Neither of them were in any state to have a heart to heart conversation about feelings right now. Scout hummed slightly in agreement.

Scout was still mad at Spy, but when someone holds you as you die, you tend to feel a bit more understanding towards them. He was going to let this play out. He doubted they would ever truly become father and son this far along in a not so friendly relationship, but he was willing to give Spy a chance to at least be a decent friend.

[my-writings-and-musings]

You know that trope where after a battle everyone is celebrating but one of the characters don’t realise they’ve been injured but pull their hand away from their side and it’s covered in blood, everyone is looking at them with horror and rush to their side as the character falls to their knees? Imagine if that happened but with the human liaison and the bots of the LL

Oh you mean one of the SACRED tropes?? Heck yeah I do it's darn near my bread and butter when daydreaming, and for our Lost Light bots...

The BIGGEST variable is what bots are present and their relationship to the human, but regardless of those a number of things are probably constant, especially when one considers the tiny and delicate nature of humans. No bot is unaware of how easily they can lose you. Not in theory, anyway. Seeing your body break is a lot, for each of them in their own way, especially if you're just coming back from victory...

Bots like Tailgate, Swerve, and Nautica are quick to go into an open panic. Without a plan, they'll rush to your side the instant they see crimson on your palm, knowing only that you need help and must undoubtedly be in pain but running far too deeply on emotions to form a plan. Their hands will likely hover in uncertainty before securing a hesitant grip to keep you sitting up, in the least.

This contrasts with the medics like Ratchet, First Aid, Velocity and Ambulon, who move with immediate purpose to stem the bleeding. Don't mistake action for calm, however. These quickly moving bots are just as worried to see your injuries as those who lose themselves to their panic. Having training just helps them channel their energy, but like the others, their sparks are filled with agony to see you in pain and their voices are softened to comfort you.

Others, like Rodimus, Rung, Skids, and Drift are somewhere in between. They have control but no training to assist you medically, so their first move is to offer encouragement and reassure you through the pain and delirium. Though they obviously are terrified as well, they don't hesitate to cradle your tiny form and shush your weak queries, encouraging you to save your strength.

Some of the more action oriented, like Ultra Magnus, Cyclonus, Chromedome and Rewind, but especially Whirl, will want to get you help before anything else can happen. Some reasurances will come from them, yet their primary focus will be on securing aid however possible, and if that means carrying you there they won't hesitate to do so. Like everyone else though, they don't stop worrying from the moment they see you're hurt.

Some particular reactions to note are;

Swerve- Will burst out begging for you to be alright and then feel really bad for doing so, thinking he was "guilt tripping" you with his emotions.

Tailgate- Cries almost on reflex, but is quickest to slip your little hand in his so you have something to hold on to while the pain starts to kick in.

Nautica- Can't help panicking because she's just done enough human research to know you're in trouble, but not enough to help, which tears her apart.

Ratchet- Breaks his calm only for an instant upon seeing the wound, because he has to fight to remember human medical treatment over ingrained Cybertronian.

First Aid- Of all the medics is the most openly nervous, due largely to inexperience with your biology, but you know this only because his voice trembles.

Velocity- Has the least trouble with your size due to dexterity, but tries to reassure you the most of any medic, as she knows there's little she can do for pain.

Ambulon- Immediately worries about where to actually begin, despite his training, because the alien nature of your anatomy has him worried he may make things worse.

Rodimus- He's actually the most tearful of his group, even if he ignores them while he talks, because he blames himself for you being here at all.

Rung- Undoubtedly the gentlest bot of them all, tenderly shushing you as he promises help is on the way, and he even supports your head for the sake of comfort.

Skids- The biggest surprise in terms of his mannerisms, he's calm and gentle as he whispers solace in his thick but pleasant sounding accent.

Drift- For someone so focused on positive energy, he really struggles the most to keep calm, and makes up for it by talking with a smile to distract you.

Ultra Magnus- Some might have found the way he lifted you and started moving cold, but one glance in his optics reveals that he is afraid.

Chromedome and Rewind- Work as a team, with the former running and the latter using small hands to carry you, while both talk as casually as possible.

Cyclonus- To strangers he's unstoppable and unfeeling, but he's an internal wreck at the sight of you in his hands, particularly due to how quickly you seem to bleed.

Whirl- Without a doubt, his reaction is the angriest, but he keeps that rage focused on motivating you to stay alive like an aggressive coach.

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[raendown]

I return from the dead with a fic that isn't even for the Naruto fandom and I don't really have an explanation for myself.

Pairing: SamBucky Word count: 2317 Fandom: MCU Summary: Visiting Steve was always strange now that the guy was old and retired. Still, of all the things Sam expected out of today, witnessing a prime example of gay panic from the co-worker that's been mysteriously avoiding him was not one of them.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info under the header!

Honestly, the fact that Steve's house smelled like prunes was probably one of the funniest things that Sam had ever heard in his life. More than anything he would have loved to go back in time, to the days of reading about glorified heroes in history textbooks, and tell his fifteen year old self that Captain America, Steve Rogers, retired in a house that smelled like prunes. God, his best friend just had to throw himself in to being old the way he threw himself in to everything else.

"Is there a special reason for you visiting?" Steve's voice was more tremulous these days, less steady but no less warm. Just hearing him again after the shameful amount of weeks it had been since his last visit made Sam grin.

"Nah, just thought I'd pop in and see if you'd expired yet. Your birthday's coming up. Gonna be, what, three hundred? A thousand?"

Steve narrowed his eyes but there was fondness in them so it wasn't very scary even if he could probably still tackle Sam across the room if he wanted to. At this point it would hurt him too but he could do it. "You, young man, are-"

He looked chagrined at himself when Sam cut him off with a laugh.

"You shitting me? Did you really just call me young man? See if I ever let you live that down."

His friend grumbled but accepted the teasing as his due. That was just what he got for going back in time and doubling down on being so much older than his own best friends.

Since it had indeed been a little too long after they last saw each other there was quite a bit of catching up for them to do. Over cool glasses of sweet tea and a plate of cookies the two of them spent a pleasant couple of hours shooting the shit until Sam could almost forget the years that stretched between them now. It was jarring, sometimes, looking away from those clear blue eyes to realize all over again just how many wrinkles they were set in. Sometimes he hated it. Other times he could only smile to know that at least one of their ragtag bunch had found the peace they were looking for.

Eventually all that sweet tea went right to his bladder and Sam excused himself to use the bathroom. When he returned he took in the sight of his friend all snug under one of the blankets his late wife had knit and sighed, feeling maudlin suddenly for no good reason.

"I should probably get out of your hair," he said. "Let you get in your afternoon nap or whatever. No, stay there man, I'll clean up." His smile was easy as he snagged the dishes from their grazing and hauled it all over to the kitchen.

"You sure?" Steve's voice floated after him. "Nothing else you want to get off your chest?"

"Huh?"

Sam frowned at the cups he'd just placed in the sink, running back through his mind. They'd talked about pretty much everything he could think of.

"You didn't mention Buck once, you know. I thought the two of you were friends now."

"Ah. Yeah. So did I." The corners of his mouth twisted with a little bitterness, a little confusion. After everything they'd been through and the number of times Bucky had accepted his invitations down to Delacroix he'd thought they were well past the point of calling themselves friends. Maybe he himself felt something a little more than that but he knew better than to push.

That was probably why Bucky's sudden radio silence hurt so much though.

"Trouble in paradise?" Steve called from the other room and Sam snorted.

“Shit, I don’t know. One minute we’re fine and the next he just up and disappears on me again. I may or may not have checked a bunch of obituaries for your name just in case because I have no idea what I might have done to piss him off.” Sam pursed his lips. He’s already gone over all this with Sarah a half dozen times and in all the recounts he’d done of their last couple missions he still couldn’t find any particularly bad moment between him and his best friend. Unfortunately the sweet tea he was glaring at didn’t have any answers either so he snatched the pitcher up and moved to put it in the fridge.

“Have you tried, oh I don’t know, asking him what’s wrong?”

“You think I didn’t try that?”

Steve’s hum drifted down the hallway with a distinct note of sass. “Neither one of you is very famous for your communication.”

“Excuse you, I was a counselor. A certified veteran’s counselor. Communicating with people was literally my job until your overly buff ass came running around all ‘on your left’ and ‘everyone I know is trying to kill me’.” Sam huffed as he snapped the fridge closed. “I damn well tried to talk to him but he’s not answering my texts or my calls. Short of breaking in to his apartment I don’t really know what else you want me to do.”

Without any other excuses to keep him in the kitchen Sam heaved a sigh, knowing he couldn’t dawdle any longer. He could only get to the door by going though the living room so his choices were either run away out the back, which he would never ever hear the end of, or go back in to the living room and face Steve with his stupidly wise and knowing eyes. Seriously, let a guy live to almost two hundred and suddenly he thought he knew everything. Annoying was what it was.

He was only halfway down the hall when he heard the front door open. Sam very carefully swallowed down the jibe he’d just been about to deliver and hoped that meant what he thought it meant. Maybe Steve had finally gone vague after all and bailed in the middle of their conversation; he’d rather chase a crazy old coot down the street than talk about his feelings regarding one James Buchanan Barnes. Actually if he looked at it from the right angle then chasing an old coot down the street was pretty much his job description whenever he and his partner teamed up on missions. Sam was just glad they hadn’t been called in to one since this whole silent treatment had started because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know whether or not Bucky would still have his back even when the guy was mad at him over reasons unknown.

Two more steps and Sam froze in his tracks, eyes wide with disbelief. Bucky’s shoulders were hunched in to himself with something bridling on panic as he fit himself through the front door and kicked it shut behind himself, eyes wild and fixed on the ground between his feet, nervous energy pouring out of him in a way Sam hadn’t seen before. From his spot on the couch Steve watched his childhood friend let himself in with serene indifference.

“Didn’t know you’d be over today,” was all he said. Then he smiled benignly when Bucky let out a soft whine.

“Help,” Bucky pleaded. “I’m dying.”

Then Bucky slid down to his knees and face planted in the carpet, arms and legs splaying out wide. Steve hummed.

“You know,” he murmured, “no one ever believes me when I tell them you’re this dramatic.”

“Steve! I’m having a crisis!”

“I tell everyone you’re a drama queen and they just shake their heads at me.”

“This is important! You have to kill me, Steve. Or I’m gonna just- just-!” Bucky’s voice petered out with another extended whine muffled by the carpet that probably didn’t smell any better from that close up.

Crossing one leg over the other, Steve folded his hands in his lap with a great lack of concern for the ridiculous scene playing out before him. Sam remained frozen in the hallway, wondering if Bucky even realized he was there, but he got an answer to that almost faster than if he’d bothered to ask himself.

“What’s wrong, pal?”

“It’s Sam!” Bucky cried. His arms lifted up like wings to flail briefly before falling back to the floor in a boneless sprawl. “Please just crush my head or something. I can’t take this.”

“Ah, yes, I hear you’ve been avoiding him.”

Whatever kind of noise Bucky was trying to make, it came out sounding more like he was choking on carpet fumes. “Of course I’m avoiding him!”

“Now why on earth would you do that?”

“I want to stick my tongue in the gap between his teeth!” Bucky said, entirely unaware of the sparks that were suddenly running up Sam’s spine in the hallway. “Help me, Steve! I want to press my thumb in the little dimple on his back. He has a dimple on his back! Why!? Steve I want to hold his hand! What the fuck!”

Steve had both eyebrows up near his hairline and the most shit eating grin any human on the planet had ever worn when he turned his head to look at Sam. Frozen with his eyes on the figure currently panicking in to the floor, Sam paid him no attention. He was busy processing. After getting to know Bucky, inviting him to stay in Delacroix time and time again, the dramatics weren’t actually that much of a surprise. Obviously as they grew closer he’d gotten a number of glimpses in to who the real Bucky Barnes was under the grouchy veneer he presented to the world. Watching him starfish on the ground and whine wasn’t too far from what he’d already seen.

Hearing him say anything about his tongue in conjecture with Sam’s teeth, on the other hand, now that was a bit unexpected. More than a bit.

“I think Shuri called this ‘gay panic’ and honestly I’m in agreement,” Bucky went on mindlessly. “If I have to watch him go through one more workout and not grab his ass with both hands then I’m just going to rip both of them off. Who needs hands if I cannot grab Sam Wilson’s ass with them!?”

“You may be slightly exaggerating the situation, I feel,” Steve told him.

Bucky snorted. “I am not. I absolutely am not. Why is he so hot? And nice? I hate that. Except I don’t. Steve why is he so nice to me?”

“That might be a question you should ask him.”

“Oh yeah, sure, I’ve got lots of questions for him! Hey Sam, why are you nice to me? Hey Sam, can I lick your cheekbones? Hey Sam, how big is your cock?”

“Well. Not that I’ve ever thought to ask that myself but, alright. Go on, Sam, how big is it?”

Sam had just enough time to cross his arms over his chest and assume a very casual pose leaning against the wall beside him before Bucky’s head shot up off the carpet. If possible, his eyes were even more wild than before when he fixed them on Steve, full of the deepest betrayal. Then he very slowly dragged them sideways to see the man he’d just been panicking over. Sam gave him a very friendly smile.

“Depends on your frame of reference,” he admitted. “I’d say sizeable.”

“Nnnggggg.”

“Hi Buck.”

“Ggnnn.”

While Steve very poorly disguised a laugh behind one hand, Sam pushed off from the wall and sauntered further in to the living room. Bucky slammed his face back in to the carpet.

“Leave me here to die,” he pleaded in a very small voice. Sam tutted, reaching for the front door, only looking over his shoulder once he was halfway through it.

“Come on, Buck, can’t lick my cheekbones if you don’t get off the floor. It was a nice visit, Steve, but don’t be looking out your front curtains for a bit. I think I’ll let Bucky decide for himself what sizeable means.” He thanked god for the mercy of Steve’s house being situated out here so far from any other homes, surrounded on all sides by enough trees that you couldn’t see it from the road. A gorgeous little island of privacy. Sam was fairly sure he wasn’t the only one grateful for this, judging by the mad scrambling noises he could hear going on behind him.

Bucky’s voice garbled out something that sounded like ‘fuck you, thank you, bye forever’ and then Sam was listening to the slam of the front door barely a second before strong hands were wrapping themselves around his hips. He laughed even as Bucky’s face came in to view.

“Greatest assassin of several generations and you didn't notice my truck in the driveway?” he said.

“I may have been a bit distracted.” That was definitely a pout on Bucky’s lips.

“By being so hot for all of this”-Sam gestured vaguely down his own body-“that you literally ceased being able to function.”

He didn’t expect such easy agreement as the sheepish nod that followed his words. “Pretty much.”

Sam blinked slowly once, twice. For one long moment he considered teasing the man. Then he decided that their time was much better spent doing things they’d both obviously been wanting to do while assuming they would never get the chance.

“I was promised a tongue in my teeth. Are you gonna get to that any time soon or am I gonna sit here and pine some more for something I apparently could have had all along?”

Bucky keened piteously. Then he surged forward to follow through on his own promises and Sam really hoped that Steve had taken his words to heart about the curtains. The man was way too old to be seeing all the ways they were about to defile the side of this truck.

[inforapound]

The Devil Inside  -  Part 2

Your enthusiasm spurred me on to write chapter two last night. The teen talk continues. This part escalates alittle faster. I’ll post the last part next week. Thanks for reading.

Warnings -  sexually explicit, hints of dub/con, possessiveness, love

Pairing - Ivar x Reader  

The following week was mundane. Not once did you catch a glimpse of the black Camaro at school and you had spent every break out in the lot. For reasons you had yet to figure out, you could not stop thinking about him. Ivar... That entire night at his house and you analyzed, picking apart every moment. The way he looked at you, the mocking way he spoke, how he grabbed your wrist. It hadn’t hurt, but it was shocking. The one detail that stuck out the most, and the feeling that you couldn’t shake, was how even in a room with others, you felt him. Some pull or draw of your attention. Some dread or distraction. It was strange and by Friday, without seeing him at school, it wasn’t relief you felt, it was melancholy.

The girls noticed and chalked it up to PMS so you all decided to skip going home and headed straight for the mall. That was uninteresting and after a couple of hours of wandering shops, trying on rings at the kiosks, and hitting up the food court, you headed to HUBB City Movie Theatre to catch a flick.

Standing in line it was Kim who spotted them first.

“Heads up,” she spoke quietly, nudging your arm.

Turning around, you spotted Mark waiving, a huge grin on his face, with both Ivar and Hvitserk standing behind. Your stomach flopped and you must have made a face as Amanda leaned in.

“Dude, are you okay?”

“Fine, yea, fine.”

“You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

“Didn’t that Ivar guy freak you out a bit last weekend?” Kim asked.

“Ah, I don’t know. Yeah. Maybe. Maybe it was just me.”

“He is…. intense,” Kim added.

“My brother told me some guy at Oak Springs High owed the brothers money.” Amanda was using her ‘this was some juicy shit’ tone of voice, “and Ivar showed up, scared the crap out of him. Waived a gun around in the parking lot.”

“What!” you and Kim said at the same time.

Amanda arched her brows. “I don’t know...just telling you what I heard.”

A quiet settled over all of you and you casually glanced back at the guys. Mark and Hvitserk seemed to be discussing a poster on the wall but Ivar wasn’t even pretending not to look. Those haunting blue eyes were fixed right on you. It was a drastic change from last time and he seemed to be waiting, keeping track of how long it would take for you to acknowledge him. Unsure of how to act, you gave a quick half-smile before looking away.

“Too bad he’s a psycho,” Amanda whispered, “cause he’s fucking hot.”

You all burst out laughing and as you handed over your tickets and headed through the doors, you heard Mark call,

“Save us some seats, ladies.”

Great…… but fifteen minutes into the movie you figured they had decided on something else as it was just the three of you sitting in your usual seats; centre of the back row, directly beneath the booth streaming the film. Amanda was in the middle bitching about the cost of popcorn and you were feeling chilled in the large dark theatre, wishing you had headed home before the movie to get changed out of your uniform.

A commotion off to the side, followed by Mark’s not-so-quiet laugh made you all turn and look toward the isle on Kim’s side. Making their way down your row was Mark and Hvitserk; Mark shout-whispering that he thought you all were trying to hide by sitting up at the back. They must have been carrying $75 worth of snacks and you figured they had just gotten high.

Watching the entrance, you waited for Ivar to come through but he didn’t... He wasn’t there... Had he ditched, you wondered, feeling confused? Was it because of you? Were you disappointed? The moment brought back that anxious feeling of the previous weekend, the claws back in your tummy and you actually felt a little dissed.  

Oblivious to the film playing in front of you, it was the sound of clanging metal on your side of the theatre that made you turn and look. Shuffling toward you, down your row was Ivar, his crutch hitting against the metal feet of the chairs in front.

Fuck, you nearly gasped realizing he was planning to sit with you and you felt a rush of adrenaline. Tucking your hair behind your ear, you shifted in your seat unsure if you were nervous or excited. Had he really flashed a gun? No. Stupid. He couldn’t have.  

When he got close, his scent hit you like a memory and you recalled that subtle smell of aftershave in his bathroom. Unsure if you should say hello, you were let off the hook as his eyes looked everywhere but at you. Holding a massive drink in one hand and his crutch in the other, he stopped and awkwardly sat down.

You were struck by the subtle look of insecurity he had, guessing that without his badass car or his parentless mansion, he felt out of place. His discomfort made you panic alitte pushing you to say something.

“Hey,” you whispered, and he looked over as if surprised; his reaction making you smile. The smile was not returned but the look in his eyes removed all doubt of whether or not he was pleased to see you. He was. Ivar Lothbrok smiled. Almost shyly and you NEARLY DIED.

Turning back and trying to watch the film was ridiculous. There was no way you could absorb a thing with him sitting beside. Again, that expectant feeling hung in the air and you, like that first night, were hyper-aware of him; his movements, his arm slung on the rest of your chair, every time he shifted. And... he looked good...really good...downright wicked in fact and you glanced over to catch another look. The light was flickering against his smooth skin and pouty lips and you just wanted to see that smile again. Looking back to the screen, you attempted to pay attention.

Just as you began to absorb the words the actors were saying, he passed over his drink, his eyes staying fixed on the screen. Accepting it, you to took a sip from the straw and were not surprised to taste the sweet mix of some sort of pop and booze. The taste nearly made you cough and you passed it over.

With his hand, he pushed it back toward you making you frown. Did he think you drank every weekend? Was he trying to get you drunk?

Suddenly, he leaned in, bringing those lips close to the side of your head.

“Are you that much of a good girl?” he whispered and the reverberation of his voice made you shiver.

You turned to look but he didn’t pull back so your faces were close. Very close.

“I’m driving,” you whispered.

Rolling his eyes, he sat back in his chair and the impression you got was that he wouldn't be leaving you alone for long. It felt tense and you somehow thought getting his attention again might smooth out the static.

“I didn’t see you at my school this week.”

That drew him back. His head snapped over and he just looked at you. The scene changed in the movie and the light in the room brightened; his blue eyes were narrowed and you wondered what he was trying to figure out.

Without a word, his gaze lowered and you watched him rake his eyes over the open neck of your white blouse, your blue cardigan, and the skin of your thighs exposed above the hem of your kilt. With no one sitting in the row in front, you had put your feet up, tucking your toes into the seat. Suddenly, the bare skin of your legs felt elicit. Dropping your feet would have been too obvious so you hugged the folded blazer in your lap a little tighter.

Rolling his tongue in his cheek, you could see he was fighting the urge to smile and he leaned in again.

“Are you saying you missed me?”

Your stupid grin broke before you could think of what to say so as a distraction you reached down and grabbed his drink, taking another sip.

“Kiss me,” he said.

It wasn’t a question and you nearly choked.

“What?” you gawked.

Pulling back slightly, he eyed you, his expression was deadpan, almost daring you not to do as you were told. But, he did not wait long and brought his mouth right to yours, not pushing, just hovering close and you could feel him lick his lips. Fuck....was your last thought as you pressed your mouth to his.

Good lord was it ever gentle, not demanding and, and like that hunter in that song playing in his room that night, you sensed that he was holding back, drawing you closer.

That’s why when he broke the kiss first, there was a simper on his face, a smug look like he had just won. But, it was his large hand wrapping around your thigh that made you know it was only the beginning. He had it all wrong though. This was not something you did. You were a second base pro and that was only after a thousand texts, five hundred calls, and numerous dates out. You were not a fast girl from his world. Whatever that meant.

Glancing over at Amanda, her attention was fixed on the screen so you looked back at Ivar. Watching the film again, he jerked his chin, directing you to keep your eyes forward. Attempting to focus on the movie, you shifted your blazer on your lap to conceal his hold on your leg and he obviously took it as a green light. Slowly, he slid his palm further up, the tips of his fingers only stopping when they touched the fabric of your panties. God, this was crazy and you took a deep breath. Why were you playing along?

“Open your legs,” he glanced at you, speaking softly but it was still an order. “Do it.”

Frowning you mouthed the word no but at the same time shifted your knees apart.

“Good girl,” he whispered and you were shocked at how that small praise shot straight between your legs. Adjusting on the seat, you slid your bum forward as if offering yourself up.

Pleased, he smirked and you tried to ignore it, acting as if you were unaware of what he was doing.

Within a second, his finger started stroking you through the thin layer of cotton, slow and steady as if biding time. Showing his experience, he pushed the fabric to the side, his finger pressing between your folds. Jesus Christ, it was insane and you should have stopped him there but didn’t… instead, you tilted your pelvis up wondering if that would please him. And it did evidenced by his quiet, breathy grunt and you weren't sure if it was his approval or the feel of his slow strokes that had you getting so wet.

Smoothly, expertly he found that little buried spot and strummed like a string, making you flinch and close your eyes, grabbing hold of his wrist. You didn’t push him away, just squeezed and despite not seeing him, you again felt him lean close.

The smell of his alcohol-laced breath fanned over your face making that tickle down there begin to throb. Your mouth fell open and you were aware that your own breath was picking up. It was obscene, if not a little embarrassing how wet you were and just how fast he was bringing you to the brink.

He strummed and strummed and you wondered what instruments he could play. Guitar…. yes definitely guitar and just that idea was sexy bringing you even closer.

“That’s it,” he coaxed, “Cum for me.”

You were nearly there. How was it possible?

“Look at me,” he demanded and you barely had the sense to turn your head, your eyes cracked only alittle.

“Fuck,” he hissed, staring at you. “I wanna eat your pussy.”

All at once, his finger pushed inside you as his lips hit yours, his tongue shoving right into your mouth. Overwhelmed, and feeling pinned by his jaw, his finger pushed harder and his palm pressed against your clit. The image of him between your legs, lapping your wetness was a recipe for magic and your orgasm crashed over you.

You came hard, harder than you ever had, pulsating around his finger, your stomach twitching and your body frozen in place. Any sounds you made; whimpers, gasps were absorbed by his mouth, breathing you in and bringing you through. It was suffocating and borderline aggressive but so fucking hot and you wondered if the setting, the people around made it that much more intense.

As the quaking eased and you came back to your senses, he pulled his mouth away, pecking you on the mouth and cheek, and chin.

Carefully, he pulled his hand out from under your kilt and you quickly glanced over at Amanda. Smiling at something up on the screen, she seemed lost in the story. Thank god.  

Seeing Ivar wipe his fingers on his jeans nearly made you cringe but he seemed unphased, adjusting the crotch of his jeans before grabbing his drink from you that you completely forgot you were holding.

“Are you a virgin?” he asked in a whisper, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.  

His brows were pinched together making you hesitate, sensing, there was no right answer to give?

“Ah,” be aloof, you thought, be aloof. “Not… exactly.”

“Not exactly?” he squinted.

“Technically,” you scrunched your face awkwardly. “I am not a virgin.”

Holding your gaze for a moment, he sniffled, signifying the topic was done. Scooping your hand in his, he linked his fingers between yours and leaned close, pecking your lips softly and so unexpectedly sweetly.

“I was right about you. You are a good girl,” he nodded and turned his attention back to the screen just as the credits started to roll.

Already? The dim lights came on and you felt on the spot, wondering how you would flounder through this next part. Letting go of your hand, he grabbed his crutches and without a second glance, pushed himself up and started down the aisle away from you.

Ummmmm. Hello? What was going on?

Toward the end of the row, he glanced back and called,

“I’ll text you in a bit.”

And then he was off. Your mouth literally fell open.

“Catch you, ladies, on Monday,” Mark hollered on the other side, already halfway to the door, hopefully oblivious to all that had just transpired.

----

Once out of the theatre, you inhaled the fresh evening air, filling your lungs like you had never breathed before. You felt….lude having just spread your legs for some guy with your best friend in the next seat.

“Well,” Amanda, smacked her lips, sliding her blazer on, “That was special.”

And you knew she knew everything.

“What the hell was that?” she gawked as Kim joined, not saying anything but looking confused.

“God,” you covered your eyes, “I don’t know. I’m so sorry,” you looked at her, your shame spilling out onto the sidewalk.

“Who are you?” she frowned, “I’m so.. so…impressed right now.” Tipping her head back, she let out her best cackle. “For once I’m not the only one hooking up with randos on the weekend,” she laughed again.

She wasn’t quite that bad but next to her, you were Mother Theresa.

“Okay, who is hooking up with who?” Kim raised her hands, motioning that she needed to catch up.

“Did you see everything?” you asked, holding your breath.

“No...I actually saw nothing but I knew what was going on. Wait, do you like him? What don’t we know? Are you…like…with him now?”

“No!” you replied exasperated. “I don’t even know him.”

“Okay, who are we talking about?” Kim cut it, totally frustrated.

“Ivar!” you and Amanda answered in unison

“Whaaaa...” Kim said under her breath, really drawing it out. “That guy is bad news.”

“I know. I know,” you repeated trying to convince them…. and yourself.  

“Oh god, you like him,” Amanda squinted as if noticing something she hadn’t seen before. “Yep,” she nodded, “you do.”

“Do you like him?” Kim asked, not believing it.

“I don’t know,” is all you could say.

Taking a cigarette out, Amanda lit it and you and Kim, as usual, took a step back to get clear of the smoke.

“So,” she took a drag, “what message do you think it sends a guy, you aren’t sure you even like, when you let him finger you in a movie theatre?”

“Amanda!” Kim scolded but you all started to laugh.

“That no means sometimes...” you shrugged.

“What?” they said at the same time.

“Did he force you?” Kim asked, her face immediately concerned.

“No!” you threw up your hands. “No!” Wait, did he, you wondered for a second, quickly pushing it out of your head. “No, he didn’t. Let’s…let’s just go.”

Linking arms, the three of you walked in a line, heading back to your car. For numerous reasons, your head felt disconnected from your body.

-----

That night, lying in your bed, you looked at your phone but all was quiet. How stupid, you thought, he hadn’t even asked for your number. Scoffing in the dark, you pretended, unconvincingly, that you were not waiting for his text. Nothing was wrong. You were just bored, maybe a little lonely rebounding from your ex-jock boyfriend. Sighing, you flipped from your back onto your side, thinking how it had taken your ex an entire summer to get where Ivar had in one night.

Your phone chimed and you jumped, nearly knocking over your lamp to grab it.

It was Amanda…….

  AMANDA: Call me if you need me. Love you.

You felt like an idiot.

Nexr chapter

@youbloodymadgenius  @whenimaunicorn @ceridwenofwales   @sweeneythots @funmadnessandbadassvikings @redama @mdredwine @didiintheblog   @londongal2810 @fields-and-fields-of-poppies  @oddsnendsfanfics @youbelongeverywhere @flowers-in-your-hayr @hecohansen31 @naaladareia @gearhead66 @blonddnamedhandz @lisinfleur @geekandbooknerd @xbellaxcarolinax @edythofhastings @ivarsgoddess @shannygoatgruff @where-beauty-goes-to-die @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @snatcherheart  @lordsexmachine @fuchsiagrasshopper @wilhhelmyna @heavenly1927​

[linyi-is-dreaming]

The Drop Of A Tear - 14

BTS V x Y/N (Reader)

Summary: Tae meets a woman who is very manipulative. Before he even notices anything, she got him around her finger. He decides to leave his wife Y/N and his four kids to start a new life with the new woman. This perfect house of cards that he had just started to build, starts to unfold as she starts to show her true face. Piece by piece it makes him feel sick. Tae notices his wrong doing as his house of cards starts to fall apart. Regret and hate towards himself makes him wish to turn things around. Will he be able to safe his house of cards and to get back what he once threw away?

CHAPTER 14

It’s been minutes since Y/N keeps starring at the ceiling. The words Jungkook said, felt like medicine to her soul. Even if he might have not meant it one hundred percent the way he said it, it still feels good to hear that she would still be looking good for a mother of four. A smile escapes her lips the longer she thinks about his words. It has been a long time since any compliment was directed to her looks positively. The insecurities about her looks are coming back into her mind as she sits up. Her eyes fall immediately towards the mirror. She tilts her head slightly as she brushes her right hand through her hair. As she steps out the bed, she sighs softly. Y/N puts on her slippers and steps towards the light switch to turn on the light. Her eyes immediately look into the mirror once again as she sits down on the corner of the bed.

“Where exactly, am I still beautiful?”, she asks herself as she looks up and down her mirror image. It might be a short question but it felt like a minute until she noticed that she did not care about her looks for a long time. Her hair is long, but the ends are damaged. Her nails are slightly broken and her nail polish is barely left on her nails. “I am surprised I even got the job...”, she says as she takes a closer look on her nails. Y/N’s eyes move from her knees, to the floor and back to the mirror. “I look so much older than back then...”, she sighs. “My eyes are still swollen. Even as a mother, I got those stupid pimples on my cheek. Why would Jungkook even say I am too beautiful to be an insect? He obviously did not look...” As her hand slides over her thigh, she gets up to step closer to the mirror. The eyes of her keep going up and down her legs. The shape, the stretch marks. Every inch of her body, she keeps looking closer at. “Those legs had better days.”, she comments as the memory of her honeymoon reminds her on how beautiful her legs looked like when they were crossed with Tae. The sunset above the sea, the only thing she heard was Tae’s heartbeat whilst she hugged him. All the memories come back at once like a wave rushing over her. In realization to where her head is heading, she shakes her head to stop  herself up from dreaming away.

It does not take long until she finds another spot on her body that she so deeply dislikes. “Stupid tummy. Why do I not get rid of you? Stupid fat roll...” Her hands find their way to her stomach and starts to squish it. “I was toned. I used to work out before I had a family of my own... I will have to start working out again. Next goal after everything has been taken care of, I will be getting fit again.”, she says confidently as she lets go of her stomach. “It would have been nice, if I went through with the surgeries that the surgeon suggested... I could look so much better today.” She keeps turning in front of the mirror as she stares at her butt. “The only good thing about my body change after becoming a mother. I finally have a nice butt but my breasts... God, I hate the way they look!” Upset of her current look, she takes the closest jacket next to her and covers up the mirror. “So much better.”

“Are you done?”, Jungkook asks as he makes himself being noticeable.

“Huh?”, she says surprised as she turns to look at the door, unaware that anybody had opened the door whilst she was in front of the mirror.

“I actually forgot one of my USB sticks over there.”, he explains slowly as he points at the USB stick next to her on top of the earlier washed clothes. “I brought it to the bedroom but forgot to return it to the studio.”

“Oh.”, Y/N comments as the redness in her face starts to show. Slowly, she picks it up and walks to Jungkook who just closed the door behind him. “Here you are.”

“Thanks.”, Jungkook says as he takes the USB stick from her. “Uhm, Y/N. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you say those things about yourself?”, he asks carefully as he looks into her eyes intense.

“Sorry, but I do not know what you are talking about...”

“Why are you so judgmental with yourself? You were never vocally this judgmental to anybody around you. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”, she lies again with a fake smile on her face.

“I think I already told you, do not use a fake smile on me. I can see that something is wrong and I think I even heard what it is about. Just tell me, why did you say that? You always courage your daughters to love themselves. You also tell them how perfect they are, why are you not saying the same thing about yourself to yourself?” Stunned by Jungkook’s words, Y/N clears her throat whilst she plays with her fingers.

“I don’t think that is any of your business.” Her voice sounds quiet and guilty. As Jungkook wonders what else he could say, Y/N looks away to sit down on the bed whilst looking almost everywhere but into his face.

“I think it is though.. I am here for you, which makes it my business.”

“But it is not your business. So, forget what you heard. It was just a ‘i-cannot-sleep-let's-talk-about-something-else-conversation with myself to get sleepy.”

“If I should forget what I heard, you need to listen to what I have to say. I can see on your face that you do not feel happy that I heard you...”

“Jungkook, my thoughts are my thoughts. You understand that, right?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course. Just as I understand that becoming older, looking older is a normal thing. Look at me and at the photos when I debuted. I am not the same person either. Not physically not mentally. That your eyes are swollen is normal due to the situation you are in. Not just that it is almost midnight as well and you are standing here hating your body.”

“Jungkook. You can stop as-”

“I am not done, so listen.”, Jungkook interrupts. Annoyed by Jungkook's words, she crosses her arms in front of her chest. “You might have pimples, but here is some news for you. Even I still get them. Your legs, they might not look like they did in your twenties, but trust me, they still look amazing. Your tummy? Oh, come on. It looks more than fine. When you sit down, there is barely a, how did you call it? Oh yeah, fat roll. You were toned, okay, it might have looked different back then. We can work out together if you want your toned body back. I have some weights here and trust me, the couch is great for training.”, he jokes. “But there is no fat that I can find on you.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Don’t you get it? You are very beautiful. I noticed that people turn their heads when you pass them. Did you not notice that? Y/N, you are so attractive. Do you know what makes you look unpretty?”

“Jungkook, I appreciate what you are trying to do here but-”

“Answer. Just answer me. Do you know what makes your body look unpretty?”

“I don’t know. I seriously don’t know, Jungkook.”, she sighs as she wishes Jungkook would finally be quiet and just leave the room.

“Then let me tell you. You are feeding this poison to yourself.”

“Hey, I watch my diet!”

“I am not talking about your diet. I am talking about what you just did.”, Jungkook explains as he walks to the mirror to uncover it. “You cover up the mirror to not look at yourself. What does it tell your mind once it is covered? That is your poison, Y/N. The more you say those bad things, the more you feed yourself with this negativity, the more you will believe every single letter of those negative words. Stop asking yourself why anyone says something good or bad about your body. You are the one within it. Embrace it.”

“Jungkook-”

“I am not telling you how to do anything else, because you got that figured out. But I am telling you, as somebody who cares for you, stop poisoning yourself with those thoughts. Do you have any ideas how pretty you actual are? Trust me when I say, that there are women who are adoring other women for their looks. You have no clue how many of them would like to have a killer smile like you. Do you know that there could be someone who would like to walk into a room and get everyone’s attention just by appearing? You do that get this attention!”

“Jungkook, thanks but if I do not see it this way... Thank you, thank you for your kind words but I do not see any meaning in what you are saying.”

“Maybe you should spend time thinking about my words instead of what you do not like about yourself.”, he says in a tone which sounds like a father who is talking to his daughter in a strict tone.

“Why are you talking to me like that? You are behaving like I am a kid. I am an adult like you and a friend of yours. Who do you think you are to talk to me in this tone?”

“I talk to you like that because it drives me crazy!” Jungkook takes a long breath before he steps back to her. “How can someone, who looks like you, not see how damn pretty you are.”

“I am sorry! That is just how I feel...”

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to yourself!”

“Why are we even having this conversation...?”

“God damn, Y/N. If I could just simply confess to you and show you how pretty-” As soon as Jungkook notices what he just said, he stops himself from talking.Y/N watches as Jungkook’s eyes get bigger as he freezes on the spot. Confused, about what he said, she steps closer to him to have barely any distance to him.

“Confess what? What did you just mean by that?”, Y/N asks puzzled as she looks at him with widen eyes.

“Good night, Y/N.”, Jungkook says quickly as he walks outside the room and closes the door behind him quickly. “I am an idiot!”, he curses himself. “Why, why did I say that?” As he leans his head against the door, he hears some steps coming from around the corner towards him.

“Jungkook, why were you in mom’s room in the middle of the night?”, Y/N’s oldest daughter asks.

“How much did you hear?”, he questions concerned with one eye brow up.

“Nothing. I just came out of the bathroom and saw you walking out of mom’s bedroom.”

“Good. Time for bed. Let's go!”, he says in a fast pace as he puts his hand on her back to lead her back to the bedroom.

“Are you okay? Jungkook, why were you in mom’s bedroom?”

“None of your business, princess.”

“Did you confess?” Shocked, he stands still and looks at her. “You did? Finally!”

“Shh. Keep it down. Princess, listen closely. I did not confess to your mom and if you remember our conversation, I told you that now is not the right time. If you say it out loud like that, your siblings will hear you and tell your mother and if that happens, your mother will not believe a single word I would say. You understand that, right?”

“Absolutely. But when will you finally...?”, she asks innocently.

“When the time is right, I will do it but until then, get some rest.”

“Why are you not asleep yet?”

“I have to work on this one song.”

“Maybe you could read a good night story?”

“I do not want to wake up your siblings.”

“We are all awake.”

“What? You all should be already be sleeping since at least last two hours.” Y/N’s daughter walks fast towards the kids’ bedroom door to open it.

“We could not sleep and stayed up to talk about a few things.” Still surprised by the girl’s honesty, Jungkook walks into the room and closes it behind him as soon as the girl is sitting next to her sister.

“That still does not explain why nobody is sleeping.”

“We could not sleep and our little brother wants to hear a good night story.”, the older girl explains.

“I will not even ask why your little brother is not in his own bed. Your mother won’t be happy about it.”

“She does not need to know.”

“Princess!”, he calls with a warning tone.

“Okay, I will not do it again...”

“Good. Why did no one tell us that you need a good night story?”

“Because he wants this book.”, the older boy says as he hands the book to Jungkook. “I am not in the mood for reading such a long book nor are the girls. Mom wouldn't have read this one as this one is for the afternoon reading and I thought you were too busy.”

“Okay.”, Jungkook sighs as he looks at the book. “Fine, I will do it but then you must sleep. Even you, Champ.”

“Wait!”, the younger girl whispers. “You have to lie down with us.”

“But then I can’t leave for the work that is waiting for me without waking you up.”

“That is not my problem, uncle Jungkook.”

“You are very friendly tonight.”, he comments with a smile as he turns off the light. “Alright. Here we go.” Jungkook turns on the flashlight of his phone as he walks towards them.

💧💧💧

“Where are you?”, Y/N wonders as she checks the toddler’s room once again. “How can a toddler just disappear? Okay, I got this. It must have been princess who brought him to their room.” Nervously, she leaves the toddler’s room. Once she opened the kids’ bedroom door, she found her four children sleeping peacefully with Jungkook lying in the middle with a big book on his chest. “Good morning everyone.”, Y/N says softly as she walks closer to them. “Good morning, good morning.” As soon she holds her son to her chest, he hugs her and it feels to her as he would continue his sleep in her arms soon. “So sleepy, young man?”

“Morning, Y/N.”, Jungkook says in a deep voice. “I must have fallen asleep after reading them a story.”

“You read them a story?”

“Well, to my surprise they were all awake after our conversation.” Just as he finishes his sentence, Flashbacks of the end of their conversation pops up in his mind. Quickly, he jumps up and runs pass her. All the eyes within the room, seem to follow Jungkook.

“Is uncle Jungkook alright?”, her younger daughter wonders. “He never ran in the morning. I think I never saw him running except when we played soccer.”

“He probably must use the bathroom urgently.”, her older son jokes. Whilst everyone laughed for a moment, Y/N fakes a smile as she turns back to her kids. “Who wants pancakes?”

“You made pancakes?”

“I was about to make some.”

“I’ll help!”, her girls say in unison.

“Alright.”, Y/N laughs. “I guess we three will make it together. Clean your teeth first and wash your face. I will be waiting in the kitchen.” Y/N announces as she leaves the room.  As she sees that Jungkook is almost out the door of his apartment, she steps closer to him. “Jungkook, do you have a minute?”, she asks as soon as she stands in front of him.

“Uhm, no. Sorry. I have to, you know, with... With someone and I cannot be late. They are waiting and I... You know... So, I got to go.”

“We can talk later. No big deal.” Jungkook nods as he storms out the door. “Your uncle did not even clean himself before leaving... You know what we call that?”

“Dirty.”, the toddler answers.

“Yes, that is right. That is dirty.”, Y/N laughs as she pets his head.

💧💧💧

Jungkook quickly runs into the building of Big Hit once he gets out of his car. He tries to greet as friendly as he can whilst he tries to get to the practice room. Once he is inside the practice room, he looks around.

“Who are you trying to escape from?”, Jin asks as he sees how out of breath Jungkook is.

“Are you the only one here?”

“No, Jimin has arrived too. The others might come in later.” Jin watches curiously how fast Jungkook finishes his water bottle. “Are you alright?”

“No. No, I am not. I am actually not alright.”

“Does it have anything to do with Tae?”

“Somehow it does.”

“Somehow?”

“Yep.” As the door opens behind Jungkook, both turn to the door.

“Uh, Jungkook is practicing with us.”, Jimin says happily. “What happened? You are so out of breath.”

“I tried to figure it out.”, Jin explains.

“And?”

“The answer I got it has somehow to do with Tae.” Jungkook steps closer to Jimin with a glare that makes Jin and Jimin a little nervous. “Why are you looking at him like you want to tear him apart?”

“You will help because of you I am in the situation!”, Jungkook tells Jimin in a warning voice.

“Did something happen between you and Y/N?”, Jimin wonders.

“Almost.”

“You confessed and kissed?”

“No!”

“Just confessed and she told you she does not feel the same?”

“Worse.” Confused, Jimin looks to Jin.

“Worse? What did you do?”

“If I would have not have let her stay at my place, I would have not heard her and I wouldn't be in this stress.”

“Tell me slowly. What happened?”

“I heard her speaking badly about her body and it annoyed the hell out of me and I found an excuse to walk inside.”

“Sounds alright…”

“Yeah, but somehow between telling her to stop thinking like that I said that if I could confess…”

“Congratulations! You finally told her.”

“Not exactly...”

“What do you mean?”, Jin wonders. “Did you or did you not confess to her?”

“I think I did… I am not sure.”

“Hold on.”, Jimin says as he scratches his forehead. “What happened afterwards?"

"I said good night and stormed out.” Jungkook watches his friends who keep exchanging facial expression before they start to laugh.

“Okay, that was funny. But honestly, what happened?”, Jin asks as he holds his stomach.

“Guys, I keep trying to stay away from her.”

“Are you for real? You needed so long to finally tell her and now you try to stay away from her?”, Jimin questions as his facial expression changes into a focused one.

“Yes. The horrible thing is she wants to talk with me about it tonight...”

“What is horrible about it? Don't you want to know how she feels for you or if there could be more?”

“Not anymore.”

“Damn, you are starting to sweat again.”, Jin says as he discovers how sweaty Jungkook’s face is becoming. “She really means something to you! Sorry Jimin. I truly thought you might be wrong.”

“It’s fine. At least I am not the only one who heard it from him right now.”, Jimin says as he touches Jin’s shoulders.

“Guys, help!”, Jungkook begs. “I feel like I am dying.”

“Listen, we will practice a little bit and during the break we talk about this, okay?”, Jimin suggests.

“Fine.”

“Maybe I can help you with something ahead of your upcoming conversation.”, Jin suggests. “I still remember talking with Namjoon and Yoongi, before I confessed to my wife. I felt similar to you. Trust me, if it does not horrify you to hear a ‘sorry, i do not feel like you’, then she ain't the one for you. I bet she feels something for you, I can sense those stuff trust me.”

“You only try to relax me, aren't you?”

“Kinda.”

“I sometimes hate you for doing that.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Only until you came up with the sense thing.”

💧💧💧

Y/N puts the fork down after taking a last bite from her pancake and continues to feed her toddler. As she hears how the conversation of the kids become louder, she clears her throat to get her kids attention. “So, now that you all have eaten. I got some news.”, Y/N announces happily.

“News?”, her older daughter asks carefully. “What kind of news?”

“I will start my new job this Monday.”

“You got a job, mom?”, her younger daughter questions cheerfully.

“Yes. I will work together with Uncle Jimin’s wife. Which is why I needed you all at the table. Because of my new job, me or her will bring you to school or bring you home from school. Depending on who has to work in the afternoon, you will always be at the house of the person who picks you up after school.”

“That’s cool. That means we can go to their house after school?”, her son wonders.

“Probably. That brings me to the next point; you will all behave, okay? It can happen that your little brother will be picked up from her as well. I do not want you to cause any troubles, got me?”

“Yes.”, her kids answer in unison.

“As usual.”, her older daughter says confidently.

“Mom, I know it is something we do not like to talk about, but dad texted me yesterday.”, her son mentions nervously. The eye roll of her older daughter was the biggest one she ever did. Whilst ignoring her, Y/N tries to make an eye contact with her son.

“Oh really? What did he say?”

“That he will not make it to the game... He meant they got a recording on the day and if we could film it for him.”, he explains sadly. “I told him no, because he will not watch it anyway.”

“He would watch it. Your dad loves to see you play.”

“I think dad only tried to tell me that he does not want to come at all. He probably has nothing to do on that day.” As a tear rolls down her son’s face, his mother gets up to hug him tightly.

“I understand why you think like that but I do think that he wants to see his boy shooting a goal after the other. He always talked about how proud he is that you are the number two of best players in your team.”

“Why can he not just come? He just has to be there. I do not even expect him to cheer anymore.” Hearing her son’s disappointment makes her feel bad as she did not know what to say to cheer him back up. Carefully, she wipes his tears off his face.

“I have to bring the divorce papers to your father next week. I will ask him if he sees any chance of coming even if he is just coming for twenty minutes.”

“Even if just for ten minutes...”

“Text him that you want to see him there for a minimum of ten minutes and I will talk to him when I see him if he has not answered you by then, okay?”

“Okay.” Y/N presses a strong kiss on her son’s cheek.

“I will give you a new plate. Your tears landed on your plate.” As soon as she was far away from her kids, she tries to take a deep breath as she takes a new plate from the shelf. If Tae would miss this game as well, she knows that there is no chance that her son will forgive his father for it. There are only two games left for this season. Tae never missed the most important games, which were the last two. “Here we go.”

“Thanks, mom.”, he thanks her as he takes another pancake.

“You are welcome. Eat up kids. There is still some left even though I am sure that uncle Jungkook would not mind to eat them.”, Y/N plays with her toddler.

💧💧💧

Nine o’clock. It has been twelve hours since Jungkook has not shown himself in his own apartment. As Y/N leaves the bathroom in her pajamas, she thinks about how to speak to him without him running away from her. Y/N follows the sound that seems to come from the kitchen. The closer she comes, the surer she is that it must be Jungkook.

“Hi.”, Jungkook greets whilst he takes a pancake.

“Hi.”, Y/N says as she walks closer.

“I have to take a shower.”, Jungkook says as he puts the pancake back into the fridge to walk away from her.

“Jungkook, will you keep on running from me?” Just as he thought, he stopped in his track and turns back to her.

“What are you talking about?”

“You are avoiding me since last night.”

“I am not.”

“You are. Can we please talk this out like adults?”

“Let’s sit down on the couch.”, Jungkook suggests as he grabs two small water bottles. He places both water bottles on the coffee table before he sits down. He waits until Y/N has sat down before he turns his body towards her. Nervously, he plays with his fingers as he can feel the anxiety building up within him.

“So, let’s talk about it. Why are you acting so strange?”

“Look, I am supporting you as much as I can, I know you know that. If the kids need me, I am here for them, you know that as well.”

“Yeah, I am aware of that and I am super thankful about that.”

“The last months, were hard on you, but they were not easy for me either. Not because I was helping you, but with all the emotions.”

“I thought we might talk about that...”

“You know what I am trying to say?”

“I guess you want to talk about the pressure that I had put on you...”

“That is not what I want to talk about.”

“No? Sorry, I thought that might be the reason why.”

“No, that isn’t it... Please, answer me honestly about what I am going to ask you next.”

“Okay.”

“How do you feel about Tae?”

“Tae? Why you are asking me about him?”

“Please. Just tell me.”, Jungkook begs. His face shows how emotionally he feels on the inside to Y/N’s surprise.

“I have a lot of anger towards him. I hate him for what he had put us through but on the other side, he is their father and I want them to have a father in their live. I know how hard it is to be without a father...”

“Do you still love him?”

“I don’t think so. Look, there has been moments in which I felt like I am becoming weak but then I remember what he did and I cannot forgive those things. But there are also moments which remind me on his old personality.”

“Do you want him back?”

“No.” A sigh leaves his lips as his hands wipe over his own lips. “Why are you asking me those questions?”

“Because I would have just died if you would have said that you still have feelings for him and that you think about going back to him.”

“I don't think that I could ever try to have what I had with him again. That train left months ago. Feelings might still be there but they do not mean a thing.”, she explains slowly as she notices the nervous and insecure facial expressions of Jungkook. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I am just in disbelief that you think you might be still in love with someone who treated you like that.”

“I cannot help it. Maybe it is me trying to forget what happened to move on that I get these damn flashbacks of beautiful moments we shared. I mean, it has been twelve years. Jungkook, thirteen years is not something that I can just forget.”

“Isn’t the pain killing you?”

“You have no idea how much it hurts. Especially when I look at my little boy, knowing that there could be a little brother next to him. You have no clue how much it hurts that I send my daughter to spend time with her father even though she doesn’t want. When I think about my son this morning, when he talked about Tae missing his game, I thought I die with him. When my little girl asks me why kids in school are so mean to her lately whilst she cries and I try to cheer her back up. It all hurts.”

“You never showed how much in pain you still are...”

“I couldn’t do it. The kids saw way too much of things they should not be involved in. Hold on, is that why you thought I would go back to him?”

“The option was always there, but I kept hoping that you would not do it.”

“Trust me. I am done with him.”

“Good.”

“You do look like there is something else... What’s wrong?”

“Y/N, I will tell you one thing and I do not want to make things weird between us but I need to get it off my chest. Not saying a thing is killing me even though I do not know how it will affect us.”

“Okay. I promise you. Nothing will change between you and me-”

“As I said, nothing will change no matter how you feel about what I am about to tell you.” Y/N nods as she leans forward to make sure to catch every facial expression to the fullest. “Y/N, the reason why I am asking you about Tae is because I do not want to push myself between you and Tae.”

“Your worries are unneeded. Tae and I are past. Promise.”

“Good. I do not think you got what I tried to say though... Okay, I will try it like that. The last few months, I do not know why but my feelings for you have changed. You are not just a sister to me; you became so important to me. Look, I... God, it is harder than I thought.”, Jungkook comments as he takes a deep breath. “Y/N, I fell in love with you.”

“You fell in love with me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh wow. Since when are you in love with me?”

“Honestly, since Tae introduced you to us. That is why I was so distant until I had my feelings under control.”

“But the two girls you introduced as your girlfriends... Did you not love them?”

“I did not. But I needed to get over you as you were getting closer and closer to marry Tae. The feeling I have for you, it is stronger than what I ever felt for anybody else. The feeling I hid so well inside me, is coming back stronger and stronger by day.”

“I do not know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. I am not expecting you to give me your answer to what I just told you right away. If you excuse me, I need to calm myself down. I feel like I am about to fade.” He adds before he leaves the room.

💧💧💧

“Hyung, you know I will not appear this late if it is not necessary.”, Tae says. “Can I not do that all on another day?”

“Why did you not mention it earlier on? All the production has been set for those three days. Everything is organized by now. I talked with my son that I will not be able to watch the game as I have work to do.”, Namjoon answers. “I cannot cancel anything anymore for you. Sorry, but it is simply too late.”

“But this is the second last game for this school year! As you just said, your son is playing too, you must know that it is very important for our sons for us to be there. I missed the last two games. This is one of the important ones. Namjoon, please. Talk with our manager once again.”

“What makes you think that I can change our manager’s mind? He said no to you and even contacted me already about your request. I cannot believe that you complained all afternoon to him that you must see your son play.”

“I had no other choice... You were not able to do anything?”

“No. Not even that you could leave for watching him from the car for a few minutes. Absolutely no chance.”

“What about your son? Will you not watch him either?”

“My wife will call me and I will watch it via FaceTime.”

“That is a great idea! I will watch it with you.”

“Will your son believe you when you say you watched it without anyone proofing that you did? He wanted you there. Tae, this game has been fixed for at least six weeks… This shooting was settled four weeks ago.”

“I will try to get someone to FaceTime me during the game.”, he comments as he picks up his jacket.

“Where are you going? You have just arrived…”

“Shopping. Y/N said she will come over this week. I got to prepare some stuff before she comes.”

“She comes over to your place?”

“Yes. I do not know the reason but I do not want to miss a chance to make things alright between us. I got to go!”, Tae says as he winks at Namjoon as he leaves.

“He truly believes that he can get her back, huh?”, Namjoon’s wife asks when she notices that Tae left.

“You were listening again?”

“Could not help myself. I do not like him being at our house, Namjoon.”

“He is my friend and band mate. What do you think I am supposed to do? Plus, he did not even say anything about him coming over.”

“I know. But right now, it might be better to keep him away. I said to Y/N that she could come over anytime, any day. She will not do that when she sees his car in front of the house.”

“I get that. But if I tell him that that is the reason why, he will camp outside.”

“He still does not know where they are at?”

“He doesn't. I want to keep things like that at least until after the next comeback.”

“I understand.”, she says as a long breath leaves her lips. With a little smirk on his face, he hugs his wife. “He is such an asshole.”

“I know your friendship with her hasn't been the same since.”

“I feel like she only talks with Jimin’s or Yoongi’s wife. I have no clue what happened the last two days.”

“Oh come on. You could call her, what do you think?” Smilingly, she pushes him away.

“Hey, I got a degree in psychology. I am licensed and you think I did not think about calling her?”

“Just saying.” The silence might lasted a half minute as Namjoon’s phone starts to ring.

“Tae again?”

“No, it is Hoseok.”

“Pick up and I will get the kids to bed. I see you in the shower?” With a big grin on his face, he nods as his eyes follow her body. “Don't forget to pick up!” Reminded by his wife, Namjoon picks up the phone.

“Hey. Make it short.”, Namjoon says as he walks towards the window to look outside.

“Nice greeting. Am I calling at the wrong time?”

“Kinda. Listen, I finally got some alone time with my wife without us being super exhausted.”

“Ooh.”, Hoseok says as he laughs for a moment. “Okay, I’ll make it short. Why is Tae asking me about Y/N living with Jungkook?”

“He asked you what?”

“He called me a minute ago.”

“He was at my house like five minutes ago but he only mentioned that he will meet up with her this week.”

“Well, Jungkook is totally through the wind, I was barely able to talk with him normally and Tae is mad at Jungkook for telling him to stay away from Jungkook's apartment.”

“What else did Tae say?”

“Nothing but that he does not understand why Jungkook is taking Y/N’s side… the typical things.”

“You did not say a thing about her living with him?”

“No. I said that the wives know where she is at but they won't tell us.”

“Do the others know about your excuse?”

“No, not yet.”

“Text them to let them know.”, Namjoon tells him.

“Honey, the kids are in bed and I am about to hit the shower. I thought you might want to know.”, Namjoon’s wife whispers as she places a kiss on his neck.

“I am coming.”, Namjoon confirms. “Hoseok, please text the others. Thanks for letting me know but I got to go.”

“Yeah, I heard her… Another Bangtan Baby?”

“No, my kids are enough.”

“Yeah, especially Mini-Me Namjoon.”, Hoseok jokes.

“Okay. I really got to go. We will talk tomorrow. Bye!”

“Bye. Have fun!”, Hoseok says laughing.

[orionwhispers]

Sweet Disaster// Tommy Shelby

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stupid fucking boys.

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

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

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

“How are you holding up?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What the bloody hell was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

Pretty girl.

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

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

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

“We’re alright here, love. Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

“You shouldn’t be here all alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

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

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

You froze.

Oh Christ.

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

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

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

“She’s with me.”

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

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

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

“Get the fuck out.”

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

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

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

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

That seemed to do it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N), wait.”

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

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

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

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

But he still let you go.

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

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

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

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

“Arthur?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

“Let me drive you home.”

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

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

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

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

“I’m driving you home.”

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

“Cmon. Get your things.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————————————————————

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

It smelt like him.

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

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

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

“It was alright.”

“Friends from work?”

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

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

“Just some stupid twat.”

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

None of it matters.

Nothing will ever matter more than you.

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

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

Memories come flooding back.

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

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

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

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

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

“How is she?”

“Fine. Everyone is just fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

“I’m hardly drunk.”

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

“It’s not my home.”

That hurt.

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

“Tommy Shelby never sleeps.”

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

—————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“I thought I was here to sleep.”

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

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

“Tea? Whiskey?”

“No, I’m fine thank you.”

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

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

“No. I don’t drink that anymore.”

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

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

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

“And you, Mary.”

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

“Oh no. I’m fine thank you, really.”

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

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

“One drink. For old times sake.”

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

———————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does?”

“Running into you tonight.”

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

“I didn’t. Not until I met you.”

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

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

“What?”

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

“Don’t say that.”

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

“(Y/N) - ”

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s true.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I fucked up.”

“Tom.”

“I never should have let you leave.”

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

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

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

“So let’s not talk.”

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

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

He knew you too well though.

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

“Stop being such a prick then.”

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

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

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

“No you don’t.”

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

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

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

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

You shuddered. “I know.”

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

“Tomorrow.” You whispered.

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

“Take me to bed, Tommy.”

————————————————————

He broke it off three months prior.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until it wasn’t.

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

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

“You need to leave.”

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

“It’s Sabini.”

“What about him?”

“He knows - he fucking knows.”

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We were stupid. We were reckless.”

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

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

“Tommy.”

“You need to leave.”

“Listen to me -”

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

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

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

“Well then you’re a fool.”

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

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

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

“Stop being so fucking difficult.”

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

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

“Not everything in life is a business deal.”

“What would you know about that?”

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

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

“No.”

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

And then - “It’s not safe.”

“Fuck you.”

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

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

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

———————————————————————

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

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

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

Mid morning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eat first. We’ll talk later.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

“You should come and watch her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t hurt you.”

“You always do.”

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

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

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

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

“I’m leaving.”

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

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

“Why would she do that?”

“Because I asked her to.”

“You did what?”

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

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

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

“There’s nothing here for me.”

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

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

“Is that all this is to you? A game?”

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

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

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

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

“Because I thought that was best for you!”

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

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

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

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

“No, actually, I don’t think I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tommy pushed the plates off the table.

—————————————————————————-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank fuck you’re still here.”

“Not for long.”

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

“Get out, Tom. Now.”

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

“I fucked up. I fucked everything up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We can’t always get what we want.”

“That’s bullshit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Talk is cheap.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had something to fight for.

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

[youbloodymadgenius]

Free (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my contribution to @dreamwritesimagines 10k Challenge. Congrats again, love, you’re amazing and this huge milestone is well-deserved 🌺

Prompt in bold

@inforapound - thank you for beta reading this for me ❤️

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: After a long day, Ivar and you are finally home. He’s been moody all day and it looks like it’s not going to change anytime soon.

Warnings: angst I guess; a lot of swearing; NO happy ending (sorry about that); Ivar is an asshole (not sorry about that).

Words: 2139



Dumbfounded and mad as hell as it’s so fucking unthinkable, you look at Ivar with wide eyes. "You're fucking kidding me, right?"

 So, that's what it was? 

 Ivar had been in a sour mood all day, more often than not taking it out on you. It wasn't pleasant, but you were used to such things. He always was uncomfortable during  those huge gatherings – both familial and business  – that Ragnar loved so much. Today hadn't been different. Sigurd's tauntings, pitiful looks and averted gazes, overbearing presence of Aslaug, everything always was a bitter reminder of his condition. Therefore, as usual you hadn't taken offense at his snarky remarks, thinking that everything would be alright at the end of the day when you two would be back in your shared apartment. 

 Obviously, you were wrong.

 "Ivar, fuck, look at me!" You burst out, irritated by his silence, your hands on your hips. 

 Sitting on the edge of the bed, he doesn't even flinch as he slowly and carefully takes off his leg braces. Usually, knowing how sore he can be after such a long day, you would help him, but today is anything but a normal day, his last allegation running through your head. 

 Eyes averted, he keeps ignoring you, which is infuriating. With growing anger coursing through you, you step forward, putting your hands on his shoulders. You squeeze them tight, your pulse speeding up. 

 "I'm talking to you, Ivar!!!" 

 As he slowly raises his head, quirking a brow, you can see the smirk that tugs at his lips. There's no gentleness in his eyes. He keeps quiet, waiting for you to carry on. 

 And that's what you do, unable to stop yourself. It's like you're possessed, like your rage has taken over.

 "You can't be fucking serious, Ivar!!!" You shout, furious and astounded, your breathing short and loud. "How can you think I'm cheating on you? And with Olaf on top of that?!! Don't you realize how offensive it is? Fuck Ivar, you're crazy!"

 "I'm just saying what I saw, Y/N." Ivar's calm demeanor is unsettling, his stare is cold as you gasp for breath, outraged and shocked. 

 "And what did you see exactly, uh?" You manage to say, your hands now twirling and pulling your hair. "Tell me, Ivar. What did you fucking see?"

 "You were flirting shamelessly with him. That's what I saw. Sorry for just stating the obvious." There's so much disdain in his voice, you shiver.

 "I– How? I wasn't–" You stammer and take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. "You're a fucking asshole, Ivar, you know that? Oh, for fuck's sake, I wasn't flirting with Olaf. I was courteous to a very important business partner of your father's."

 "Always the loyal employee, huh, Y/N?" Ivar spits, his lips curled into a spiteful grin, hard feelings and sarcasm obvious. You might throw up.

 The truth is, he's right. And it's nothing to be ashamed of. Even if you're not working for Ragnar anymore – you quit as soon as your relationship with Ivar became somewhat serious – you still have Ragnar's best interests at heart. You were his personal assistant for three years, after all, working  alongside him sometimes more than twelve hours a day. 

 "Yes Ivar, that's what I am, and you know that! You can't possibly hold it against me, your father's business is yours too." You retort angrily, but you can feel something else in your mind, in your heart. Helplessness, you think. 

 Two years. It has been two years and Ivar still doesn't trust you. Still suspects you, everywhere and all the time. You're so tired. Tired of that kind of relationship. Tired of him? As soon as the question pops out in your head, you know the answer. Yes. Of course, you are. You can't take it anymore. Even if it breaks your heart.

 Unaware of your inner turmoil, Ivar doesn't stop. "You were touching him!" He hisses through clenched teeth, releasing his right leg from its titanium brace. "You were fucking touching him. Don't think I didn't see it! You didn't have to, but you did it anyway. What am I supposed to infer, Y/N?" Narrowing his eyes, he snorts, his fists gripping the edge of the bed, his knuckles white.

 "Certainly not that I fuck him behind your back!" You shout, throwing up your hands. Biting your bottom lip, you shake your head in disbelief. "You are ridiculous, Ivar." Your harsh tone startles the both of you, as you're usually the sweet and patient one. But not tonight. Not when he drives you up the wall one more time. Maybe one too many… 

 "Did you see the fucking dude, Ivar?" You carry on, still shouting, because you need to make your point. It's so fucking unfair. Ivar is so fucking unfair. "He's fat, and bald, and old. And I can't even look at him in the eye because all I can see is the monster zit in the middle of his forehead and… yikes! Fuck, I wasn't touching him, Ivar!" Breathless and frustrated, you briefly cover your face with your hands before speaking again, your tone calmer, almost defeated. "You saw us, right? So you know. I was just walking him to his seat, like your father asked me to. I wasn't flirting with him, I couldn't even fathom doing that, you know? How can you, Ivar? How fucking can you??? Stop this nonsense, please, you're smarter than that! You got eyes, fuck! Olaf is disgusting!"

 Barely shrugging, Ivar looks you up and down with pursed lips. "He has two working legs, though." 

 You roll your eyes, utterly fed up. Before, Ivar saying something like that would have moved your heart, but not anymore. Every time you and he have a fight, he shamelessly pulls the disabled card on you, just to make you feel guilty. It doesn't work tonight, though. You're no fool. There's no sadness in his voice, only sourness and malice. He's stubbornly furious about something that doesn't exist, and therefore ready to push all the right buttons. And you, you're sick and tired of that kind of ploy. 

 "Fuck Ivar, we're past that point! You know I don't give a shit about your legs! You do, but it's not my fault and I won't let you make it about them! And you know what? This is not about me, this is about you! You wouldn't trust me even if you could run a hundred meters, fucking admit it!" Blinking back tears, you let out a huff of frustration.

 Ivar quirks a brow, and the brooding look of anger on his face tells you that he's not going to let go, not yet. "You're not making any sense, Y/N! This has everything to do with you! You, the ungrateful daughter of a worker, who always wants more! More money, more shiny things, more fame, and a better man than the cripple!" He snaps at you with an air of defiance, gritting his teeth.

 Your whole body starts to shake as you process his words. Ivar has never been out of line like this. "What the hell? You're a fucking bastard, Ivar!! You know that's not true! You're so fucking wrong!" You manage to say, seething at the insult.

 You're not perfect, not by a long shot. But you sure are not a gold digger, never have been and never will be. Because of your simple background, you've always been afraid of being suspected of being interested in Lothbrok's money. That's exactly why you've never stopped working, despite your lover's protests. 

 So, Ivar making such accusations is absolutely revolting, infuriating and once again completely unfair. 

 Tilting his head, he looks at you with stormy eyes. "Am I, really?" He asks in a cold voice, eyebrows raised. "Wrong, I mean. Because, you see, I don't think so." He's suddenly incredibly calm, like he's just teaching something to a stupid child and not in the midst of a lovers' quarrel. A sly smirk on his face, he scoffs, folding his hands on his lap. "I'm just stating a fact, Y/N. After all I've done for you, that's how you thank me? By blatantly flirting with Olaf Haraldsson?"

 That's the exact moment when you realize. When you know. Despite your best efforts, it will never get better. Ivar will always be difficult, you will always do everything you can to soothe him, make him happy and in the end, you will always be the one who feels hurt. 

 You thought your love would change him, but you were wrong. How naive you've been! People never change. And now, you're exhausted. For two years, you had to endure his bad faith, his tantrums, his wrath, his distrust, his jealous fits… You can't anymore. 

 Of course, there were good times as well. Sometimes – rarely – Ivar can be sweet and caring. But is it worth it? The thought has been playing on your mind these last few months. Suddenly, the answer is clear.

 So, there's only one thing left to do. It may be painful, but there's no other choice.

 Dropping to your knees, you pull a suitcase out from under the bed. Fresh tears are trickling down your cheeks and you stifle a sniffle. Ivar ducks his head and watches you, furrowing his brows. 

 "What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?" He snarls at you, his jaw clenched, barely restrained. Scooting closer surprizingly quickly, he grabs your wrist, squeezing it tight. You wince, locking eyes with him nevertheless.

 "It's pretty obvious, isnt'it? I'm leaving tonight, Ivar." Fortunately, you sound more confident than you are and as Ivar releases you, utterly surprized, you take advantage of it and move away from him, dragging your suitcase with you. 

 "WHAT???" He roars, as one of his fists hits the mattress hard. There's so much fury in his eyes that you struggle to keep your head up. 

 Swallowing, you heave a sharp breath. "I'm. Leaving. Tonight." You immediately turn away, reaching into your closet and start throwing clothes into the suitcase on the floor. 

 You can easily imagine the look on his face. Ivar must be stunned. Flabbergasted. The long silence that follows your words confirms it.

 Eventually, he clears his throat. "You can't do that. You're mine." His voice is cold as ice and you can feel his eyes on you. You shudder, closing your luggage. A small part of you is disappointed. You realize that you were maybe hoping for something different. Perhaps expressed feelings. You should have known better, though. It's Ivar, after all.

 Slowly turning toward him, you bite your inner cheek, blinking back tears. As you tilt your head, you peer into his eyes. Hiding your shaky hands behind your back, you speak with a firm voice. "You're wrong. I'm a free woman, Ivar. You don't own me, you never did, in spite of all that you did. Because that is what you did, not for me, but to me, Ivar. You spied on me, threatened me, tried to control me. This isn't how a relationship works. I tried…" Your words catch in your throat, you have to stop for an instant. "I wanted to give you time, because I loved you. I probably still love you. But it's not enough. I can't do that. Jealousy isn't love, Ivar. Possessiveness isn't love. Love is about trust, and that's something you've never given me. So yes, Ivar, I'm leaving tonight, and there's nothing you can do to stop me." Closing your eyes briefly, you exhale, feeling the weight of your words settle over the two of you. Ivar doesn't move, as if petrified. 

Grabbing the suitcase, you put your hand on the doorknob, your stomach churning unpleasantly. "Good bye, Ivar," you say softly, suddenly dispirited but no less convinced that you're doing the right thing. 

 You're almost out of the room when Ivar speaks, making you stop in your tracks. "Will you ever come back, Y/N?" His wavering voice sends shiver down your spine and you swallow a thick lump in your throat before looking at him. His eyes are wet, his bottom lip quivering. For the first time in… forever, you see the Ivar you fell in love with. The Ivar who allows himself to feel, to care. Maybe even to love. 

 But it's too late. You won't change your mind. You owe it to yourself. 

 Raising your head, you look at Ivar, still sitting on the bed."Will you ever change, Ivar?" 

 A series of emotions run across his face, but silence is his only answer. You slowly nod, blinking nervously. "That's what I thought."

 There's nothing more to say and so you leave, closing the door behind you. Your heart is bleeding, your soul is crying but you did what you had to do, finally.

 You are a free woman. 

🛡⚔️🛡

@dreamwritesimagines @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @gearhead66 @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @liviatheempress @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva​ @tgrrose​ @didiintheblog​

[slstmaraudersjple]

Collateral Damage

Via Lottie (klarolineagainnaturally):

Random thought: I would have loved an in depth talk between Klaus and Caroline in which she talked about him biting her both times and then she went into all the trauma she had suffered from all the other shit people put her through and he would be just absolutely horrified and angry that someone would do those things to her but also horrified and angry at himself. TVD really just did not give two fucks about exploring the trauma in its female characters and it shows

A/N: I know, I know. I’ve got some prompt requests I’m still working through. But Lottie (@klarolineagainnaturally) wrote the above post and it WOULD NOT leave my head until I sat down and wrote it out. So here you go, darling! I hope you enjoy this! AU canon-divergent from TVD episode 4x13 Into the Wild, after Klaus bites Caroline. I’ve adapted the dialogue because I didn’t feel like going back to re-watch the scene.

Trigger warning(s): mentions and discussions of rape and torture.

Collateral Damage

“If you don’t heal me, I’m going to die.” Her voice is oddly calm despite the panic coursing through her veins.

He looks at her, regret briefly flickering through his eyes, and then he shrugs, turning away from her as he murmurs, “Then Tyler will have learned a lesson.”

Angry tears form at the corners of her eyes, hot and wet and heavy.

“Then you’re just like the rest of them,” she says bitterly, mimicking his tone. But she’s unable to help the emotion seeping into her voice as she lashes out, “You say you’re different, but in the end you’re all the same. None of you give a damn about me as long as you get what you want. None of you give a shit about who hurts me or what happens to me as long as you have your precious Elena.”

Then, she turns away from him, curling up on the couch.

“I’m not going to beg you for anything. But you’re going to get to watch me die, and I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

XXXXX

True to her word, she stays silent, and he’s left to ponder over her words. The accusation in her voice, the hurt that she can’t quite hide, and the implications of her words.

“You’re just like the rest of them.”

He thinks over everything he knows about the baby vampire that’s caught his interest. Truth be told, he didn’t do much research on her prior to coming to Mystic Falls. All he knew was that she was a baby vampire, a friend of the doppelganger, and dating the Lockwood boy. He doesn’t know what happened to her prior to her becoming a vampire.

“None of you give a damn about me as long as you get what you want.”

He is starting to believe that this was a slight error on his part. Klaus knows that many think of him as a monster of legends, but there are lines that even he draws. The wheels start to turn in his head as he thinks about the people she associates with. The doppelganger, the Bennett witch, the Lockwood boy, and… the Salvatore brothers.

“None of you give a shit about who hurts me or what happens to me.”

He pauses on the last. She seems rather friendly with all of them… save for Damon Salvatore. Even if it’s never been said, he has noticed Caroline’s silent disdain towards the older Salvatore.

Not to mention, the falling out she’s had with Tyler.

And then there’s the relationship (or rather, lack of) with her often-absent mother.

His conclusions lead him to believe that not just one terrible thing has happened to this baby vampire, but several. And they make him furious.

And after pondering on these possibilities, each scenario he envisions worse than the next, he finally pulls himself out of his thoughts and turns his attention back to the object of his affections.

“Just what,” he finally responds after a couple hours, “did you mean by that, sweetheart?”

She’s quiet in response, unmoving.

For a moment, he thinks that she’s going to continue to give him the cold shoulder.

But finally, she says, her voice so low that only his hybrid hearing picked it up, “Why do you care?” She sounds tired and weary, and he can’t quite help the wave of guilt that crashes into him.

He’s seen his fair share of victims. Normally, he’s fine leaving them up to their fate. Survival of the fittest and all. But there’s something so utterly vulnerable about Caroline Forbes in this moment.

And then she says, “I’m so tired of it all.”

Like she’s giving up.

It’s such a stark contrast to the feisty, intelligent, clever, beautiful baby vampire he’s come to known. And that, Klaus thinks, is unacceptable.

He meant every single word he said to her – she’s beautiful, intelligent, full of light. But obviously she’s experienced something terrible if she’s not scared of him the way others normally are.

And if he’s going to get some answers, he can’t have her dying on him, now can he?

His mind made up, he strides forward, unaware of his own eyes flashing amber as he forcefully turns her over to face him. Caroline is far too pale for his liking, unresponsive to his touch. Without hesitation, he rips his fangs into his wrist, making sure his blood is running before pressing it to her lips.

He doesn’t let go until she’s drinking, and as he watches the color return to her cheeks, the thought occurs to him that she’s the only one he’s saved. And not just once, but twice.

Klaus would not consider himself a patient man, but he still gives the baby vampire a moment of grace to recollect herself before he sits back, letting the full weight of his gaze fall on her.

“Now,” he says, his voice booking no room for argument, “let’s chat, shall we?”

XXXXX

Caroline frowns. “Why do you care?”

“Humor me.” He says.

It’s the wrong response, because she shakes her head, scoffing as she turns away from him.

“I could compel you,” he says carefully, watching her face for her response.

And just as he suspects, she flinches, seeming to curl into herself as she presses against the couch. “Don’t you dare,” she snarls, not quite able to hide her growing fear.

“I won’t have to if you tell me,” he responds.

Caroline eyes him suspiciously, looking towards him but directly meeting his gaze. Clever girl, he thinks fondly.

But he braces himself, trying to keep the expression on his face calm as he prepares for he response.

The baby vampire seems to contemplate his words for a moment, deciding what to do.

She’s quiet for so long that Klaus begins to wonder if she’s going to clam up and refuse to speak to him for the next couple days.

But then she tells him.

Everything.

About Damon.

About the werewolves. Both times.

About her dad.

She refuses to look at him as she does so, instead burying her face into her knees as she wraps her arms around her legs, drawing them up. Her words are hollow, almost mechanical, as if she’s dissociating herself while she summarizes each event. And even though she leaves out some details, Klaus can very easily fill in the blanks for himself while soaking in her words.

She doesn’t see the growing horror on his face, the way his eyes widen, the way his throat turns dry.

Caroline has been tortured not once, but four times. Once while she was human. Three when she was a new vampire. And she’s only been a vampire for a couple years.

She doesn’t see the growing fury, the way his eyes flash golden, the way the veins on his face blacken.

Her so-called friends all knew about the compulsion and rape she suffered at Damon’s hands. And they didn’t care. Her so-called boyfriend knew about the torture she suffered at the hands of the werewolves, and he allowed it to happen. And being tortured by her own father for being a vampire…

She doesn’t see the tears that spring to the corners of his eyes as he watches her fall apart in front of him.

But what she does see, when she finally stops talking and dares to look up, is him. Sitting in front of her, on his knees, his hands carefully braced on either side of her, close but not touching.

He swallows and finally says, “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve suffered, sweetheart.”

The expression that crosses her face is equal parts confusion and equal parts suspicious. “But why?” Her voice is a little hoarse after talking for over an hour, her eyes red-rimmed, her face wet with tears both shed and unshed.

And in that moment, Klaus can’t help but think she’s the most beautiful being he’s ever met in his entire life. And that he’ll never meet another person like her in a million lifetimes.

“Because you didn’t deserve any of it.” His response is simple, honest, and unrestrained.

“Why?” There’s growing bewilderment in her voice now.

He pauses, thinking over his response before he decides to go with, “Is it really so hard to believe that for all my… faults, that there are some lines that even I don’t cross?”

Caroline stares at him for a long moment, and Klaus fidgets uncomfortably under the weight of her gaze. It feels like she’s looking into his soul and judging him, and he’s not quite sure how to feel about it. Finally, she says, “I think I believe you. But… why do you care? I’m nobody special or important. I’m just… a baby vampire. Shit happens.” Her words are slightly bitter, as if she’s repeating something she’s been told.

Klaus swallows, partially wanting to laugh at the absurdity of her words, of the reality of how she sees herself. He wants to shake the gods, because this baby vampire who has upturned his world cannot see herself the way he sees her.

He settles for shaking his head as he says, “You’re wrong. I once told you, you’re beautiful, strong, full of light. I fancy you. That hasn’t changed. You’re so strong after everything you’ve been through.”

Caroline looks at him, really looks at him this time. There’s an odd look on her face, and she says quietly, “I want to believe you. But I’m tired of being collateral damage, Klaus. When shit happens, I always get hurt. And no one ever cares to pick up the pieces. They expect me to just get over it and move on. And one day, things are going to get real bad, and I’ll probably die.”

An uncomfortable feeling overcomes him at her words, a strange clawing sensation in his chest, and before he can stop himself, he snarls, “I would never let that happen.”

She shakes her head, a sad smile on her lips as she says, “Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, Klaus. You might feel it in this moment, but I’m not going to hold you to it.”

This time, Klaus shakes his head in response as he says, “I can’t go back and change the things that you’ve endured, Caroline. But I can do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Tyler might be your first love... but I intend to be your last.”

When Caroline opens her mouth to respond, he vows, “However long it takes.”

And he means it.

He doesn’t expect a response from her anytime soon, but by the contemplative expression that overcomes her…

He thinks that he just might have a chance.

Caroline’s quiet afterwards, eventually falling into a light slumber after the emotionally drainng ordeal she’s had, and he’s content to enjoy the silence while he plots.

The first thing he’s going to do when the Bennett witch’s spell fades is to hunt down and kill Silas.

Then, it looks like he’ll be having a chat with the rest of the Mystic Falls gang, starting with the werewolf boy and the older Salvatore.

And finally... he intends to continue the conversations started with his baby vampire. It’s clear to him that Caroline has suffered from the trauma she’s endured, and he’s going to show her that she can lean on him. She’s obviously mistrustful of him, for good reasons, but she has shown that she’s been willing to trust him on occasion.

It’s a start, and he will make the most of it.

(Starting with apologizing for the two times he’s bitten her.)

Caroline Forbes entered his life and turned it upside down, and if there’s anything Klaus is good at, it’s playing the long game.

And he plays for keeps.

XXXXX

FIN.

[rosereview]

Book of the Month (Mar): A Court of Silver Flames

Okay that was a crazy ride… holy mother sh*t. I don’t even know where to start and I have so many thoughts it feels like my heart and head will explode. Just like my Chain of Gold review (which you can find on my post page) this will probably be long and full of spoilers so sorry in advance, but I just need to get it out. Also these are the other books I read in March (it was a crazy month with a SJM and Cassie Clare book!):

A Court of Silver Flames by Sarah J. Maas (5 stars)

Chain of Iron by Cassandra Clare (5 stars)

Siren’s Lament Season 2 by instantmiso (5 stars)

Frankenstein 1818 edition by Mary Shelley (unrated)

Characters

So to start I of course need to talk about Nesta, her being one of the main characters, but also because it’s NESTA. Like many people, I hated Nesta for all of the previous books. Like actually hated. She just made me so mad. The only time and reason I didn’t totally hate her was during the war in ACOWAR and mostly because I wanted Cassian to be happy and I could tell they were mates. But after that, especially in ACOFAS, I disliked Nesta so much it hurt. For her whole life she (and Elain, but I’ll get to her later) just let and expected Feyre to do everything for them and keep them alive. And after all of that, she blamed Feyre for being Made into a Fae, when Feyre was literally the only reason she was alive. As an older sibling myself, that made me so mad. I would never rely on my younger sibling because I would do everything in my power to keep them safe and provided for (like what Nesta did for Elain, which also riled me up because Feyre never got the same treatment). Going into this book I was worried that this whole thing was going to be about Nesta being a whiny bitch, but instead, the redeeming feature of Nesta, was her knowledge and acknowledgment of how shitty of a sister she’s been. I know that it took her a long time to actually be nice again, but I was happy that she actually knew that she was being terrible and deep down wanted to be better. She wasn’t just being terrible because she felt entitled which was the vibe I got from her before, but instead was terrible because she thought it was too late to get better. After that I thought her journey was very relatable and heart wrenching. While I still was mad every time she got mad and was mean to Feyre or any of the Night Court group, I could still sympathize how she felt like she was intruding on their family and that she didn’t fit in. 

Now let’s talk about Cassian— I love him. That’s about it. JK… Okay, I have always loved Cassian, but this book made me appreciate him in a more emotional way. All of his insecurities had me crying for him while relating to him so well too, and when we heard more about his mother and how when he was younger he didn’t get physical touch which is why now he always needs physical touch… MY HEART COULDN’T HANDLE IT! God, that was such a precious moment when he needed to hug and kiss Feyre’s forehead, because that’s how he best shows affection and needs affection warmed my heart in so many ways, but also made me cry. And although it hurt me when Cassian would doubt himself and feel lesser because he was born a bastard, I still felt that pain brought Nesta and him closer in more ways. It wasn’t just him helping her, but she helped him too, and both allowed each other to grow on their own but also together. I fucking loved that. 

Relationships

Now I’m just going to jump right into relationships, because I feel like individual characters besides Nesta and Cassian can only really be talked about through their relationships with other characters since it was only Nesta and Cassian’s povs in the book.

So first let’s talk about (obviously) Nesta and Cassian— I mean I already started to talk about them together above, but this book was so powerful for me because of the way the two of them worked together to heal themselves. That was beautiful. But also it is a tiny bit annoying how both Feyre and Nesta were unaware of their frickin mate bonds! I know, I know… neither were born Fae so they don’t have the same knowledge of the mate bonds that everyone else does, but come on! I knew Nesta and Cassian were mates since they first met! And I know that it definitely wouldn’t have been smart or healthy for Nesta to accept the mate bond at the beginning, but at the end when she still has to talk to Cassian like he isn’t her mate, after they literally consummated the mate bond on several occasions, I was kind of annoyed. I know it was still part of her growth, but also wild that she still was playing dumb like that. But I’m happy they finally admitted everything at the end.

Next let’s discuss the Archeron sisters— So really their relationship at the start just made me sad, seeing none of them get along (except Feyre and Elain). Especially since I still kind of felt like everyone should just be falling at Feyre’s feet and apologizing about how terrible they were for mostly her whole life (even Elain, since she also never helped keep them alive in the human world. Really she was just as bad as Nesta but wasn’t an outright bitch about it). But even though Nesta was encouraging nasty behaviour from them (because she was also being mean) Feyre and Elain both were just as mean to her sometimes. I mean, when Elain went to the house and Nesta and her got in an argument, Elain was just as harsh as Nesta was to her. But I guess Elain has just never been my favourite person. I’m still a little pissed how both Feyre and Nesta do everything for her and she just sits still and looks pretty, but I’m betting that will change in future books. Anyways, I was very happy at the end of the book that all three sisters got on good terms and even went to visit their father’s grave together. That last scene got me pretty emotional. 

Nesta & Emerie & Gwyn— In contrast with the Archeron sisters’ relationship, I loved this new friendship that Nesta found with Emerie and Gwyn. I think now that Nesta found those two, she really appreciates the relationship between family that isn’t blood, because they are now like her sisters too. I loved both Emerie and Gwyn so much in this book and I was so happy that Nesta found them and let them into her life. Feyre found a family in the Inner Night Court, and Nesta found her own people with her Valkyries, and that felt very poetic to me. The family you choose is the family that sticks with you forever (although you can choose blood family too, and I’m glad Nesta found her way back to Feyre and Elain, but I’m glad she found more family too). 

Nesta & Amren— Okay, this relationship had me very mad for most of the book because I just wanted to scream at Nesta so bad! I can’t believe that Nesta got mad for “choosing” Feyre’s side, when literally Feyre and Amren were family first! Amren and Feyre were close and part of the Night Court family before Nesta came in, and even though I was happy that Nesta was making friends with Amren, she can’t get mad at Amren for being friends with Feyre too! Especially since she was friends with Feyre first! Again, not saying that Amren and Nesta being friends was a bad thing, I just got mad that Nesta was being so weird about it when she has no claim on Amren to be just her friend. Sorry I just had to get that off my chest, but I am happy that both of them seem to be friends again now :)

Nesta & Rhysand— Throughout the book I totally understood both Nesta and Rhysand being unfriendly to each other, but boy was I in tears when Rhysand fell to his knees before Nesta because of what he did for Feyre. That was the most beautiful brother-in-law/sister-in-law moment in the entire world. Really I don’t want to even talk about Nesta and Rhys’s relationship in most of this book because I feel like that’s now in the past, I just want to focus on their amazing family relationship going forward, because now they will be in-laws from both sides (Feyre and Nesta being sisters, and Rhys and Cassian being brothers). 

Nesta & the House— This was a beautiful relationship and I was beyond happy that Nesta became best friends with the House. Super heart-warming and those are honestly my only thoughts. I can’t wait to see more of Nesta and the House in the future!

Cassian & Rhys & Azriel— Again, I just love the three of them! Their brotherly bond is adorable, but it also makes my heart break when they all take on each other's pain, because it’s just so beautiful and sad at the same time. I don’t know how else to explain it. When Cass and Az still feel hurt about not being able to help Rhys when he was underneath the mountain, and the pain Rhys and Az feels for Cass’s past, and the same for Az’s past. It’s beautiful but sad because I can just feel the love they have for each other and the true pain they feel and it hurts me too. 

The Night Court Inner Circle— This is also just a short pop in to say how much I love this whole family together: Rhys, Az, Cass, Feyre, Mor, Amren, and now Nesta, Elain, and Nyx. They are all a big beautiful family that makes my heart ache just thinking about them. I can’t wait for more scenes about all of them interacting with baby Nyx, because that will kill me and give my life again in the best way possible (again not sure if that made sense, but that’s the only way to explain it).

And for the big finale in relationships… my Elain/Azriel/Lucien/Gwyn thoughts— to start off, I’m not dissing any ship anyone makes and I think all thoughts are valid. But I don’t know, for some reason I just don’t think Az and Elain are meant for each other. I just think it’s too obvious and cliché (for lack of a better word) to have all three brothers fall in love with all three sisters. BUT I also see how it is obvious and cliché to have mates end up together too. So I really don’t know what to expect. But one thing is for sure— and again no hate please— but I totally understand why Elain and Lucien are mates and “equals”. Throughout this book it is mentioned multiple times that Elain doesn’t belong in the Night Court while Nesta definitely does (like the scene where they visit the Court of Nightmares but I do remember it being mentioned other times as well). This also explains why Azriel’s shadows don’t go close to Elain, because she literally represents light. Lucien on the other hand, is literally the son and heir to Helion, High Lord of the Day Court (even if he is unaware at the moment), the ambassador to the Spring Court (full of light and flowers), and ambassador to the human lands, somewhere Elain misses very much. I know none of this should mean he has any claim to her, but it definitely makes sense why they would be considered mates and “equals”, because Lucien’s birth and life matches the light that Elain represents. Just some food for thought. And concerning Gwyn and Az, I just think they would be really cute together, honestly. I think that Az being the first one to rescue Gwyn on the most traumatic day of her life is significant, and will have something to do with Gwyn’s own healing in some way, but of course that doesn’t have to mean sexual or romantic. I thought both of the extra bonus scenes at the end of ACOSF (yes I’ve read both) are really setting up for the next book which will cover Elain and Az’s journeys, but I don’t think that means they will get together. I thought Rhys’s comment about Elain in the Feysand one was very true, and Elain isn’t the innocent helpless girl we’ve been made to believe. I think she has a lot to share from her own story, and I think that Az needs to have his moment in the spotlight too. 

Plot

Lastly, let’s talk about plot, which is essentially the next war that may be gearing up to happen. I hope for all of my babies’ sakes it won’t happen and it’ll just be a little negotiation and everything will be well, but I have a feeling that won’t happen. This dude in this lake is very intriguing though (sorry, can’t remember his name) and I’m excited to see what will happen next. But most importantly, I think in the future a lot of shit will happen with Mor too, because since she was gone so much in this book I think that’s SJM getting us ready for a big Mor moment. I have a feeling there was more to her negotiating on the other continent than we know about yet, and also I feel like there's something more about what happened with her and Eris that I’m excited to find out about. 

I just feel like this was more of a character driven book (which are my favourite books) than a plot driven book, and a lot of the information we learned in ACOSF will be more important in the future books. So for now, I’m okay with not talking about it (although side note, I’m really happy that crone queen bitch is dead. I did not like her!)

So thanks for reading till the end if you did. Sorry for any grammar or spelling errors; I’m too tired to read over this. 

Until next time!

~Rose Reviews

[britishboystm]

It’s Always Been You (Tom Blake Smut)

warnings: angst, smut, death

word count: 4,723

a/n: I can’t believe this is the first time I’ve written for Tom

•••

Tom had always been a good friend. His family did cherries and yours did apples.

Before the two of you were born, your fathers went into business together and shared a booth at the Saturday market in your town. Both your mothers were thick as thieves and had gotten pregnant around the same time, and you were born a month after Tom. It was safe to say you were never going to leave each other’s sides.

You did everything together, well until your father became worried that you were becoming too much like a boy by spending so much time with Tom. You’d fondly remember the times the two of you would go down to the river and stand in the water up to your knees trying to see who could catch the most tadpoles. The two of you would usually come back to yours or his farm around dinner time covered in mud and dirt up your waist. Your mother always complained that she couldn’t see your pretty face due to the muck that was often smeared on it. Because of all this you ended up being sent to a private girls school a few miles south, where you weren’t allowed to see Tom unless it was Christmas.

You secretly wrote to one another though during your time at boarding school and when his father passed away from pneumonia you were his only real support system other than his brother. His mother went into a bad depression after his father's death so he was left to grieve his father's passing alone.

Once your learning was finished, you did not hesitate to come home and help on Tom’s farm again. Tom’s mother would pay you to pick cherries since your father had sold his orchard.

But things had changed when you came home. Tom was no longer the little chubby boy who you could mess around with and make mud pies and pretend to eat with. His hair had darkened and his shoulders had broadened. Not to mention he now towered you. He was a man. And a handsome man at that. You never noticed that about him before.

The glances you shared now didn’t hold the same innocence it once did. There was something different in his chilly blue irises. His gaze would last a little too long when you would bend over to pick up the barrels of cherries and whenever the two of you rinsed them by the big well, he always found a way to sneak a small graze of your hand so you wouldn’t forget he was there beside you.

But those flirtatious moments didn’t last forever when war was declared in Britain. Almost immediately, Joe was sent off to fight for king and country. Tom didn’t need to but because Tom had to always be the same as Joe or one up him, he had kept saying he was going to enlist as well. You didn’t take it seriously until one day Tom came running down the driveway to meet you and his mom, who were depitting the last batch of the season.

“I did it, I did it!” You frowned in confusion at his obvious excitement as he hopped around with a letter in hand. His mother grabbed the letter from him quite quickly and nearly fainted after reading the first two lines. The two of you quickly grabbed her and called it a night, bringing her into the house.

His mother was in shambles and was now seated on the couch while she sobbed into her hands. She didn’t even have the desire to cook dinner. That’s when you knew things were bad.

“What did you do?” You say to Tom as he sorrowfully watched his mom cry.

“I enlisted, I’m leaving next week to fight in France.” It was now your turn to almost faint as you grab the kitchen table beside you.

“Have you gone mad?” You breathe out as you take a seat to steady yourself.

“No I haven’t. If Joe can do it so can I!” His voice raised in anger as he crossed his arms over his chest, obviously upset at the double standards that were set for him and his older brother.

“That is not what this is about Tom. Joe is gone, there is nothing we can do about that. But you? It was so easily avoidable but you’ve gone and ruined everything. How selfish can you be? Who will your mother have if both you and Joe don’t return home? Who will I have?” You begin to choke up near the end and let a single tear slip down your cheek.

Tom sighs and storms out of the kitchen, probably heading upstairs to freshen up while you prepare the dinner since Mrs. Blake clearly wasn’t well enough to.

You focused on making dinner as Mrs. Blake and Tom sat in the living room, not speaking to one another. What was there to say? Tom knew yours and his mother’s thoughts on it all and he was too stubborn to be convinced to not leave.

Once dinner was ready everyone sat at the table and ate quietly. Again no words were spoken and the tension was so thick amongst the three of you. None of you were able to finish due to the unsettling feeling you all shared so you finally gave up and collected the half eaten dishes and placed them into the sink.

“I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” Mrs Blake said as she slowly got up and weakly walked up the stairs to her room. She looked so frail and worn out that it made you even more mad at Tom for the pain he was already causing.

You stood at the sink and faced away from Tom as he stayed put at the table. The only sounds that filled the room was the clashing of dirty plates and running water.

This was all such a mess.

———-

Later that night you found yourself sitting on the haystack in the Blake barn with the doors wide open as you stared out at the navy night sky. Stars adorned the sky. They continued to shimmer, unaware of the fact that your world was falling apart at the seams. Funny how time and space works, you thought. So many other thoughts rattled around your brain, all of them making you want to cry.

You were so deeply focused on your little world that you didn’t initially hear Tom walk in.

“Couldn’t sleep either huh?” He said before walking up and taking a seat beside you on the hay.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” You don’t respond but rather stare out into nothing with an emotionless expression.

“The least you can do is talk to me.” He says, nudging you lightly to lighten the mood.

“I wanted to marry you.” You blurt out of nowhere in a montone way. There was a good chance he was never coming home so at this point you felt as though you had nothing to lose.

He bowed his head in shame and twiddled his thumbs, clearly trying to absorb this big bombshell.

“Really?” He says finally looking at you and trying to hide his excitement.

“Yeah but at this point it’s foolish to think like that, considering I may never see you again.” You finally look at him with hurt in your eyes which he matches almost immediately.

“Y/N I-“ He tries to say something but you are quick to cut him off.

“Why is this so important to you?” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair before getting more comfortable in his spot.

“I don’t know. I feel as though I have lived my entire life being the lesser of the two brothers. Joe has always been the golden child that I wanted to prove myself. That I can be courageous and brave just like him.” You bite your lip from saying anything that may hurt him. It made sense why he would do this but you still hated the idea.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“Of course I am. I’m scared shitless. But I’ve been scared shitless my entire life.” You sigh and the two of you sit in silence for a while, nothing but the sound of crickets and the warm night breeze floating by.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” He says out of the blue, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. You nod in return, silently telling him there is no reason to feel judged by you.

“There is one more thing I’m scared of.”

“And what’s that?”

“I shouldn’t say. It’s so bloody embarrassing.”

“What? No! You have to tell me now! That isn’t fair!”

“Okay fine.” He sighs.

“Spit it out then.” You say with an urgency to your voice.

“I’m scared of dying a virgin.” Your eyes go wide and you look over to him to see if he is joking or not. When you see him looking down at his lap shamefully, a blush creeps upon your face. You had never really discussed those things before. Especially with him.

Girls talked about it when you were in private school but you didn’t usually have anything to contribute.

“Oh.” Is all that you are able to get out.

“I’m sorry, I should have just kept that to myself. Forget I said anything.” He begins to ramble, clearly trying to backtrack on his last comment.

“There is no reason to feel ashamed of those type of things Thomas. Those are normal worries people have.”

“You think so?” He says hopefully.

“Of course. I also get scared by the idea of never being able to feel that way with someone. It’s natural.” It was now his turn to blush. Oh to be the one to make you feel that way, he thought.

“Tom?” You finally say, bracing yourself for his response.

“Yes?” He says back.

“You know. If we both share this fear, we could always… get rid of it together.” He is speechless and his jaw drops as he stares at your nervous expression.

“Do you really want to?” He finally gets out.

“Well, we know each other and we are good friends. I also feel very comfortable with you which is important.”

“Right but we aren’t married.”

“At this point Tom I don’t really care about that. I need to vent all of these emotions somehow.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“So that’s what this is about. You want to fuck out your feelings because I’m leaving?” He seemed a little hurt by this. Like this was simply an impulse or an itch that was aching to be scratched. That was part of it but it was mostly the fact that you’ve wanted him to be your first the minute you returned home and saw just how much of man he had become. You loved him and he was now giving you a free pass to finally fulfill your desires.

“No, Tom that is not it. I want to lose my virginity and to be quite honest, I couldn’t think of anyone else I would want to lose it to.”

“Really?” A cocky smirk came upon his lips as he leaned in and nudged you slightly. You rolled your eyes in response and scoffed.

“Okay you don’t need to get all cocky about it.” He laughed before trying to start something by catching your gaze in his.

And with no warning Tom pounced on you and began kissing your neck roughly which caught you off guard.

“Tom get off! What are you doing?” You squeal as you push him away.

“What? I thought you said you wanted to lose your virginity to me. I leave next week remember?” Your glare is piercing as you stood up.

“I didn’t mean here at this very moment! God can you at least give me a warning before you try and pull something like that?” He falls back a bit onto the hay bale with an exasperated sigh, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

“Sorry.” He says realizing his wrong doing. You weren’t just an inanimate object that could just be used whenever. Contrary to what your father always believed, you were a person of integrity and if you needed time, then by god you were doing to get the respect you deserved.

“I think I will go to bed now.” Your words are soft as you turn around and hesitantly head out into the vast land of the Blake farm. You couldn’t help but look back to see Tom sitting there, embarrassed. Millions of thoughts swam around but one kept finding itself coming back again and again. That specific feeling that came whenever Tom did chores around the barn that made his muscles flex was coming back and even though you had just rejected him, the feeling was growing more and more.

“Fuck it.” You say under your breath before you quickly turn around and plop down onto his waist in a straddle, causing him to let out a groan at the sudden impact.

He looks at you in confusion, and right before he could say another word you quickly attach your lips to his. The kiss was aggressive and feverish as your hands threaded through his hair, gripping it tightly to get him to part his lips. As a result he let out a small gasp at your fingers tugging at his roots and your tongue swirling around his mouth. This was your first ever kiss and soon to be first ever time so you weren’t going to hold back. Not if it was with Tom.

Everything felt so right in that moment. Just two nineteen year olds using the last bit of time together before probable tragedy. You had a gut feeling that Tom was never going to walk up that long gravel driveway ever again. You shooed those horrid thoughts away.

“Tom.” You sigh against his plush lips. He pulls away and intently looks into your eyes, worry evident on his face.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked. You couldn’t help but giggle at his puppy like demeanour.

“Of course not. You are being so kind Tom.”

Your gaze then suddenly becomes transfixed with his white button shirt. Then without a second thought your hands grazed up and down his covered chest before you began to unbutton the first three, exposing his sternum. You look up to see him intensely watching your actions, his breathing beginning to increase.

“Are you sure Y/N?” He says while his hands run up and down the sides of your basic grey dress.

“Only if you are.” You whisper back. Taking this as affirmation he flips you around and lays you gently on the cushiony yet scratchy hay that held the both of you off of the dirty ground of the barn.

“You know I have always, thought, you were, so beautiful.” He says in between kisses along your face. You smile softly at his words and sigh, allowing yourself to fall deeper into the hay.

“Thomas Blake you always knew how to make a girl blush.” He chuckles at this and stops kissing you, holding himself up above your body.

“You remember the time your parents invited the Darby’s to Christmas Dinner. How it was your first year back from St. Clares and because they were the richest family in town, your parents tried to set you up with their son Richard?” You roll your eyes.

“Tom what does this have to do with us having sex right now?” You were growing slightly impatient.

“Wait, let me finish love.” You sigh and shift slightly to grow more comfortable. This may take some time, you thought.

“I remember I was so mad because your parents wouldn’t let me play with you. They basically threw you to Richard and I had to watch them try to play matchmaker. At the time I believed that I was angry because I wasn’t allowed to play with my best friend since you had been away for so long. But years later I looked back at that moment and I realized that I was jealous. Jealous at the fact that you were paying all of your attention to Richard and not me. Of course your parents made you but I remember making Richard my sworn enemy that day. Stupid huh?” You smile and run a hand down his cheek.

“No not at all. I can’t believe you remember that.” His words made you think for a moment. He had been in love with you for so long and you didn’t even notice.

“Tom?” You ask.

“Yes Y/N?” Your body almost turned to jelly at his readiness to do anything for you. The adoration was so obvious that “in love” could easily be stamped on the slightly older boy's forehead.

“Would it be crazy to say I am, whole heartedly, absolutely, in love with you Thomas Blake?”

“No it wouldn’t.” He laughed.

“And would I be absolutely mad to say that I am, insanely, crazily, in love with you Y/N L/N?” You shake your head with a smile and with that he leans in once more and continues the eventful night with a loving yet lustful kiss.

His hands begin to have a mind of their own as they roam your body. After exploring most of your many curves, his left hand slowly made its way under your dress, lifting it slightly and beginning to touch you over your knickers.

“Oh my.” You gasp out as he places a tad bit of pressure on your clit.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, watching your reactions intently.

“Very tingling, ve-very g-good.” You try to get out in between gasps. He smirks proudly at this and begins creating circles against the fabric that covers your centre.

“Off. Off Tom, please.” You slightly beg. Wanting to make you feel good, Tom begins to slide your knickers down your legs and chucks them off to the side.

“Can I see?” He asks sheepishly. You curve your neck so you can see him down between your legs.

“Yes.” You respond. With a steady hand, Tom lifts your dress, dropping it up around your waist and groans at the sight of your exposed, glistening cunt.

“Wow.” Is all he can say.

“Tom!” You whine, unable to bear the throbbing feeling between your thighs.

“Sorry, just got distracted.” He mutters. Tom then leans in and lets out a hot breath. Your legs clench at this and Tom becomes aware with just how sensitive you really are.

“I’m going to kiss you here. Is that alright darling?” You nod weakly and with that his lips attach to your centre. A moan is drawn out of you almost instantly.

“Fuck. This cannot be your first time.” You blurt out, clutching his hair. He smirks against you before he sits up again and places a long kiss on your awaiting lips.

“Just you darling. It’s always been you.” You giggle in response and wrap your arms around his neck and pull him flush against you.

“Y/N I don’t know how much longer I can last without putting my cock in you.” He spurts out in pent up frustration.

“Charming words there.” you scoff before he begins to unbutton his dirty work slack and push them down his legs.

“Can I unlace you’re-“ you sit up, already knowing what he is about to say. Your hands swing to the back of your dress and you quickly begin to unravel the back, letting it fall off your upper body. Your breasts were perked to the air from outside.

“Christ.” He says before leaning down and taking one breast into his mouth. He is slow and gentle with his actions, clearly showing you how important this moment was for him. With small mewls leaving your lips every once in a while, you ran your fingers through his hair again. This time you made sure to be more soft on his scalp.

“I’m ready, are you?” He whispers as he moves his mouth up to your jaw, hands still caressing your bosom. You nod slowly which makes him smile. It was finally going to happen.

He brings himself up again and places his hands on either side of your head.

You take a moment to take in his member. The only time you had seen one was when you snuck an anatomy book from the library when you were in school. Seeing one in real life was a whole new experience

He notices your stare and smirks.

“Everything alright?” He asks.

“I don’t know. It’s so different from the books. This is all so new to me.”

“It’s alright darling. We will learn together.” You nod in response and before you knew it, he was beginning to insert himself into you.

The feeling was so forgein and awkward that you had to smack him to stop.

“Ow fuck, Tom stop!” He quickly removes himself and holds you into his chest.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” You grab him tighter in thanks and lean away a tad to look at his concerned face.

“It feels so tight. Could you maybe use your fingers first?” He nods and slips a hand down your dress again. One finger is dipped inside and you let out a sigh of relief. This was a lot easier to manage, you thought.

“Oh Thomas that feels so good.” You say. He smiles and takes your praise to allow himself to enter a second finger. Your legs clench a tad as he moves his fingers in and out, every once in a while, spreading your increased wetness along your slit.

“I think I’m ready now.” You say. It didn’t take much for him to remove his fingers and lick off your wetness. Then he positioned himself the same way he did not that long before. His member slipped into you and this time around it felt a lot less uncomfortable. It still caused a pressure but not enough for you to scream bloody murder.

“Should I move?” He asks. You were doing it. This was no longer a dream or a fantasy. Thomas Blake was staring down at you with his cock inside at the hilt.

“God yes.” You moan while throwing your head back and closing your eyes. Tom began retracting his hip and then swirled them around before pushing forward again.

“Fuck me.” He cries out.

“I’m so happy we did this.” He says. You grip his shirt and open up the rest of the buttons, allowing the rest of his torso to be revealed to you. Your hands ran up and down his chest and soft stomach.

“Slow down.” You whisper gently. He nods and his movements start to calm. His eyes are entranced by yours and you can���t help but notice tears in his eyes.

“Are you crying?” You ask.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” He whimpers back, as he continues to move back and forth within you. Tears began brimming your eyes and as you both let tears fall through your orgasms, you pulled him flush against you.

“Come home to me.” You kept repeating.

“I promise.” He would say back with as much of a clear voice he could muster up.

And with that your legs begin to shake and you let out an elongated moan. His seed spills deep inside of you and as he removes himself from your core you can't help but feel it drip down your inner thigh.

“I love you Thomas Blake.”

“I love you Y/N L/N.”

———

You stared blankly out the kitchen window as you dried off the plates from lunch. The sky was a gloomy grey but no rain fell. Mrs Blake sat silently in the living room, knitting a small bonet with yellow yarn.

Your mind was somewhere else that you hadn’t initially noticed a car pull up and a soldier stepping out, letter in hand.

The plate you had been drying crashes in the soapy water beneath you and you quickly dry your hands on your apron as you attempt to run out the front door.

“Mrs Blake?” The man asks as you open the door rather frantically.

“No but she’s in. Iris!” You call out. She walks slowly from her chair and situates herself beside you.

“I’m Mrs Blake.” Her words were shaky. It was almost as though she knew exactly what was about to come out of the man's mouth.

“We regret to inform you that Thomas Blake was killed in action on April 6th. His belongings will be sent to you in the next couple of weeks. We are sorry for your loss and the rest of the information given will be found in this letter.” And with that the man looked down at your stomach and sighed with sorrow before handing over the letter and walking back to the car.

Your legs went numb instantly. The only sounds you could make were loud gut wrenching sobs. You clenched your stomach as you held onto the door frame for support.

“He’s gone Iris! My beautiful Tom is gone!” She grabbed you and mixed your sobs with hers. Myrtle and the puppies were now at your feet, grazing your calves in a calming matter, almost as though they had known what had happened.

“My boy!” She lets out.

“My baby boy!”

————

Dear Y/N,

I can safely say that this is one of the hardest letters I have ever had to write. I am sure you have gotten the news before this gets to you so I want to say that I am so sorry for your loss. Tom was nothing but a good, selfless man who cared for others so deeply. Before he died, his only wish was that I wrote to you and his mother. He talked about you every chance he could. The stories from when the two of you were little, how you were the most beautiful being that he had ever seen. How him replaying your laugh in his head was the only way to get him to sleep at night when things were tough here in the trenches. He didn’t die in vain. He died knowing that he fulfilled his duty of loving you each waking moment, even if it saddened him he couldn’t do it alive for much longer.

I remember his last words to me so very clearly.

“Tell my beautiful Y/N I love her. That I will always be with her.”

He handed me this picture of the two of you together. There is some blood on it but he would have wanted you to have it nevertheless. I hope this gives you peace during these trying times and god bless Y/N.

Sincerely,

William Schofield

“Mommy, mommy look!” A small voice calls out. You drop the letter and picture of you and Tom staring longingly at each other that you had read and looked at so many times before to see your son holding a small pool of water in his hands.

“What do you have there?” You call out. He then runs up from the river and drops down beside you under the willow tree you were situated at.

“I caught a tadpole!” He says proudly.

“That’s amazing Thomas!” He smiles at your encouraging words before running back down to the water. You watched him intently as he giggled in entertainment. Sometimes you had to let out steady breaths to stop yourself from crying. He was truly the spitting image of his father, a mini Tom if you will. The icy blue eyes and the chocolate wavy hair gave him away so easily. It pained you so much to wake up and see your Tom in him every day, but it was also a blessing in disguise. Even though Tom was no longer around, he had left you a gift that you could never thank him enough for. Tom Jr was so sweet and kind and loved making friends with everyone he came across, just like his father. He was your support system and you both adored each other. He was your best friend.

And for that, you were internally grateful to Mr. Thomas Blake.

[earnestly-endlessly]

Can i request Cherik fic rec of collage au? Pretty please? Extra cookie points if it’s long fic

Thank you for the request anon! I am so sorry how late this is, but I hope that this list will give you plenty of new fics to read and enjoy!! 

College/University Cherik AU 

** Where they’re both college/university students**

A Road Trip to Pennsylvania – Aainiouu

Summary: For a year Charles has nurtured the biggest and most embarrassing crush known to man towards Erik. They are friends and roommates and when Erik asks Charles to accompany him to home on Thanksgiving of course Charles goes.

Of kittens and teacups and love – Ren

Summary: Modern AU in which Charles and Erik are flatmates. Charles studies psychology and likes tea and chess and keeps bringing home stray kittens, and Erik lets him because he's maybe perhaps a little bit sort of in love with him.

Love Medley – ikeracity

Summary: Charles and Erik have been friends and roommates for two years. They've also, coincidentally, been in love with each other for two years. Neither of them has ever had the courage to admit it to the other, but Erik's new friendship with Magda and an untimely accident forces them to confront their feelings once and for all.

it was a red scarf semester – ikeracity

Summary: When Erik makes a bet that he can get into Charles Xavier's pants before the semester ends, he doesn't expect Charles to resist quite so much. And he doesn't expect Charles to change everything he thought he knew about mutants, friendship, and love.

Can You Feel My Heart – FuryRed

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr hates Charles Xavier.It’s as true as the words written on the wall in the bathroom at the university that Erik attends. Erik sees them one day- accompanied by a crude drawing of Erik and Charles glaring at each other- and recognises the truth of the sentence, and smiles.

He hates Charles. Probably…

Enemies With Benefits – bettysofia

Summary: Casual sex with your sworn enemy gets tricky once feelings get involved.

CMUniverse - Pookaseraph

Summary: A series of fics that star Tony, Charles, and Erik (and probably some others as the idea expands) at Carnegie Mellon University. Some are AU of each other, don't use logic.

Math Reasons - pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

Still Life with Cookies – stlkrchck

Summary: It wasn't fair that he only wanted Erik to draw him when Erik wanted to listen to him talk about how unfair the lack of emphasis that tenure committees placed on teaching ability was and tuck him into the hat and scarf and mittens that he wore even though it wasn’t properly cold yet and kiss his gorgeous, ridiculously red mouth and make out with Charles on the bed that he'd apparently wedged between the window and "pipes of some sort, don't ask me why there are pipes in my room, Erik," in his tiny dorm room.

Or: Charles is a nude model, and Erik is an art student.

The Pretender – Clocks

Summary: Charles is sick of having his best friend Erik drop to one knee and fake-propose to him in restaurants, just to score a free dessert. He doesn’t know which is worse: the complete embarrassment, or the likelihood that Erik doesn’t mean a word of it.

That time the System didn’t work – bluexlily

Summary: "pick each other up from bad dates" au

They had stablished The System a long, long time ago.

Since they became each other’s roommate, actually, and realized that they had more in common than their home state and decided they should be friends.

Whenever he or Charles is on a date, they send a first message after meeting the prospected boyfriend.

Accidentally Welcome to the Rest of Your Lives - Kianspo

Summary: Non-powered college AU. Erik and Charles have nothing in common until they end up having sex at someone's party. They don't have much in common after that, either, but find each other a hard habit to quit.

A Study in Advanced Lecherism - orphan_account

Summary: Charles has this thing he does when he's drunk. He gets completely lecherous. For some reason, that really pisses Erik off. Who knew?

Learning Curve – pocky_slash

Summary: (Non-powered college AU) Erik takes a trip back to campus to visit a despondent Charles and does his best to offer comfort.

Charles Does Not Buy a Shamwow - Madneto

Summary: Charles and Erik are spending the first few days of their university's winter break alone at Erik's mother's house. Then, Erik's mother decides to come home early unannounced... while Erik and Charles are naked on the living room couch.

5 Times Charles Had Nothing to Say and 1 Time He Did – BadLuckBlueEyes

Summary: Charles Xavier usually has a lot to say. But sometimes he doesn't and that's nice too. (Written for the prompt: Erik befriending and falling in love with mute!Charles)

Five Useful Signs When Dating Charles Xavier (a down under remix) – letosatie

Summary: Erik meets a fascinating mute boy and rapidly discovers sign language is useful.

Home Together (The Finding Our Way Remix) – significantowl

Summary: Erik is not the sort of person other students strike up conversations with. His expression, his posture, every part of his manner say: Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to talk to you. But none of that stops the boy ahead of him in line with the collapsible white cane, and nothing can stop Erik from falling for him, like it or not.

The Wall (a.k.a.  Erik Lensherr) – fkbunnyclub

Summary: Charles doesn't really want to have a crush on the cute stoic senior who keeps dropping by the library where he works who also has a pregnant girlfriend. Or so he thinks.

Building a fire – dedkake

Summary: Erik wishes he were in law school instead of med school, because then he would be researching the legal remedies for the doubtless thousands of violations his apartment building's slumlord owner, Sebastian Shaw, has perpetrated on his tenants.

On the bright side, maybe he can finally coax his bizarrely oblivious roommate, Charles into sharing his bed, or curling up together on the couch under many blankets. Purely for surviving the night, of course.

April Showers – ikeracity

Summary: Walking home in the dark in a rainstorm is not Charles' idea of a pleasant night. Of course, the stranger with the umbrella who offers to walk him home makes the experience infinitely more agreeable.

Alles hat ein Ende, nur die Wurst hat zwei – Darksknight

Summary: “My mother has expressed that if I come dateless, I will be assigned one, to put it lightly. So, you see... well, I have a favor to ask. Erik, darling. Will you be my pretend boyfriend?"

Erik thinks it over for a second. "... No."

Mutant House at Dead Kings College – mabyn

Summary: When it comes to romance, Charles has terrible timing.

Best of Enemies – Black_Betty

Summary: Student and mutant rights activist Erik Lehnsherr is furious when the college newspaper chooses to interview his opponent Charles Xavier instead of him.

He's mad because of the politics of the thing. It nothing to do with how hot Charles looks in the picture accompanying the article.

Seriously.

The Luck You’re Born With – Lynds

Summary: College AU. Erik thinks Charles Xavier is an arrogant, rich brat, whose only redeeming quality is his intellect. Charles never disputes this image. Then through an accident Erik finds out that Charles has been long cut off from his family and is essentially a single parent to a ten-year-old Raven.

Like Roses and Wine – Schwoozie

Summary: Charles is not what you would call a “sports person” - but the promise of free kisses after the game, especially with one Erik Lensherr playing midfield, is a temptation Charles can't resist.

Every Song I Know – Fengirl88

Summary: “Erik,” Janos says wearily, “you had amazing sex with this guy. He obviously really likes you. You have, what, a month, six weeks left? You can spend it moping and hiding and worrying you're going to run into him. Or you can call him, have a good time, and figure out where you go from there.”

Erik groans. It's what he wants to do, so much it scares him.

[or, the one where Erik and Charles meet and fall in love as exchange students, break up, and meet again by chance seven years later]

Argue me tender, argue me true – Wild_Imagination

Summary: “You’re having your bad-boy crisis with seven years of delay, Charles.”

“Why must he spit out those hateful, misanthropic, science-free, separatist ideas of his with a face like that!”

Charles and Erik attend the same college, and they never, ever agree on anything. But that's fine, because Charles can't stand him. No, really.

Simultaneity – TurtleTotem

Summary: Trying to deliver roses to his girlfriend, Erik knocks on the wrong door -- but Charles is so happy to get them, how can Erik possibly tell him the truth? Love, lies and exhaustion follow as Erik tries to keep boyfriend and girlfriend happy and, most importantly, unaware of each other!

**Where one of them is a college/university student**

in the moonlight, on a joy ride – scarlettblush

Summary: Librarian AU. Charles is the young librarian and Erik is the college student who is completely besotted with him.

Mutually Beneficial Transaction – Pookaseraph

Summary: In his sophomore year at Columbia University, Erik, feeling slowly strangled by his mounting college debt, places an add on a sugar daddies website. He doesn't know exactly what to expect from it, but when he's contacted by a man named Charles who seems less creepy than the other people who have responded to his profile, he decides to give it a shot. Charles is nothing like what he expected, and Erik finds himself slowly falling in love with his sugar daddy while trying to find out exactly what caused this amazing guy to buy his emotional and sexual intimacy when he clearly deserves so much more than that.

Authority kink – aesc, Subtilior

Summary: “You’re going to be in your room, on Skype with full video, when I call you tonight, at … nine o’clock sharp, your time.”

Tonight.

Erik, a proud and surly graduate student, keeps his deepest, darkest desires under tight control. Charles, his genetics professor, keeps handcuffs on his copy of the university handbook. You can see where this is going.

An Ideal Grace – afrocurl, nekosmuse

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a visiting professor at Columbia University, as well as an acclaimed and award winning poet. Charles Xavier is a lead researcher with the Genetics Department who is well on his way to tenure. But what happens when Charles has to cancel a class because half his students abandon him in favour of a mysterious new English Lit professor? Naturally he ends up sitting in in the class, where Professor Lehnsherr mistakes him for a student. It's really too bad Erik has such a strict policy against dating students. It's also too bad Erik doesn't seem to know how to use Google.

Note: This is not technically a university/college AU, but I’ll let it slide because it’s one of the best cherik fics out there and for the majority of the fic Charles is in Erik’s class (even though, unbeknownst to Erik, he’s a professor as well).

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 15

I can’t think of anything to say about this one haha, other than it has a good ending and was an interesting change of pace for me to write.  Make sure you check the warnings, as always!

Read on AO3

Read on FFN

Day 15 - Magical Healing/Science Gone Wrong

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Warnings: claustrophobia, blood, broken bones, mild body horror, mild gore, mild eye trauma (super mild, because eye trauma is a personal squick)

Keith had never had to go into a pod before. He had gotten plenty of bumps and bruises during his time in space, and even a few more serious wounds, but never anything bad enough that he couldn’t patch it up himself. He had gotten pretty good at self first aid over the course of his life, especially while living in the desert. 

And he was pretty happy about that. The thought of being locked in a pod, unconscious, completely helpless and unaware of what was happening to him and around him, made his stomach roll a bit. Obviously he’d never tell anybody that he was...not scared, definitely not scared, but...nervous about using a pod. That was something he’d just keep to himself.

But now...now he had no choice. And honestly, he didn’t care. He was in so much pain, so disoriented, that he just let everybody strip off his clothes, wrestle him into a pod suit, and usher him straight to the pod without even a word of protest.

He had taken on a Galra commander by himself. He wasn’t too proud to admit that he had lost miserably. The commander was huge, and he had managed to get a hold of Keith, wrapping one of his ginormous hands around his entire waist, before slamming him into a nearby wall. Repeatedly. 

Pretty much everything on the right side of his body was broken and/or bleeding. Including his poor, cracked armor. His helmet had been knocked off, so his skull had taken plenty of damage, with blood still pouring down and sticking his eye shut even while the pod was prepped. He was pretty sure something in his face was broken, too. Maybe more than one something. It was difficult to separate one pain from another.

“Alright, lad, in you go.” 

Keith barely held in a yell as he was lifted in, managing to stifle it to a strangled groan. 

“I know bud, I know.” Shiro gave him a tight, worried smile. “You’ll just go right to sleep now, and next thing you know you’ll feel all better. Promise.” 

There was a momentary flutter in his stomach at the thought, but the idea of sleeping and no longer being in pain won out over his apprehension. As the glass slid shut, his other eye did, too.

He felt the blast of cold that filled the chamber. 

He felt his body succumb to the gas that froze him in place. 

He didn’t fall asleep.

Any second now, he kept thinking. It’ll happen soon. There’s just a little delay that no one mentioned. Maybe they didn’t remember. I probably won’t remember any of this later, either.

But the longer his body remained paralyzed and his brain aware, the more panicked he became. And then the healing began.

You’d think that would be a good thing. Healing takes away the pain, right? 

The first thing to start was his head. He hadn’t been aware that the pain there could get any more intense until it did. Bone fragments started shifting, locking themselves back into place, and he could feel every little bit of it. He could feel the broken skin beginning to knit itself together, millimeter by millimeter.

He wanted to throw up. He couldn’t. His body remained passive and completely out of his control, not responding in the least to his racing thoughts.

Why why why why why why why why why why why why why is this happening why did no one say this would happen this isn’t supposed to happen is it this doesn’t make any sense it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts make it stop please make it stop Shiro help me get me out of here make it stop make it stop

But his body remained still through it all. He couldn’t twitch a finger, couldn’t open his eyes so that the others would know he was still awake. Were they still watching? Did they have any idea that something was wrong? For all he knew, he was alone, and he wouldn’t be released from this nightmare until everything was healed.

Ribs were next. They slid slowly back into place, grinding against each other, slicing through muscle and tissue on their way. It hurt worse than anything he could have imagined. 

His arm and shoulder healed simultaneously, but still took an eternity. That was the worst part, how agonizingly slowly everything went. A doctor setting a bone worked quickly. There was pain, yes, but it was a sharp spike followed by relief. This went on for ages, healing every little crack and tear along the way as each bone was dragged back to where it belonged.

The only thing worse than that was not even being able to scream.

He hadn’t even realized anything was wrong with his knee until that got twisted and pulled straight again. The very last thing to heal was his face, starting with the bones in his cheek and around his eye, and ending with the eye itself, which was less excruciating in the pain sense and more in the fact that it felt like something was in his eye, pulling and probing and scratching, and he couldn’t even lift his hand to rub at it.

The good news about the whole process was that once something was healed, the pain did ease, leaving him with less areas hurting than before.

But rather than feeling like a mere tick had gone by, he was aware of every single tick that passed for the entire two quintants that he was in the pod.

When the glass finally, finally opened and he stumbled out into Shiro’s waiting arms, the first thing he did was open his eyes as wide as they could go, and open his mouth to suck in a lungful of fresh air. His body was his again. He could move. 

The second thing he did was slump boneless to the floor, not even Shiro able to keep him upright. He buried his face into his arms to hide the tears that spilled over without his permission, but that did nothing for the way his entire body trembled and for the gasping sobs that escaped.

“Whoa, Keith! What’s the matter? Are you still hurt?” Shiro’s hands grasped his arms gently. “Talk to me, bud, what is it?”

He tried his best to get himself under control, hating the fact that he was breaking apart in front of everybody. The others probably didn’t even think he was capable of crying before then. Lifting his head slightly, he wiped his face with the sleeve of the pod suit, then dropped his forehead back down onto his arms. 

“I-it…” He swallowed. “It was awful.”

“What do you mean?” He could hear the frown in Shiro’s voice. “What was awful?”

“The p-pod.”

A hand slid into his hair, cupping the back of his head. “I don’t understand, bud.”

“I was awake. The whole time.” 

Silence. Then, “What?”

Coran’s voice broke into the conversation. “That’s not possible. The first thing a healing pod does is to cryo-freeze its occupant. We saw it working ourselves!”

“It did freeze my body.” Keith looked up finally, but couldn’t quite bring himself to meet any of the several gazes that were on him. “Otherwise I would have been banging on the glass for someone to get me out of there. I couldn’t...I couldn’t move. But I was awake.” For a while he had wondered if it was the same for everyone, if Shiro and Lance had refrained from telling him, knowing that he wouldn’t want to go in. But eventually he had convinced himself that Shiro wouldn’t do that to him, and it seemed he was right.

“You’re telling us,” Shiro began slowly, “that you’ve been completely awake and aware for two days, unable to move, while the pod healed all of those broken bones and everything?”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“That shouldn’t be possible!” Coran repeated. “I’ve never heard of anything like it before! I can’t imagine...unless…” He broke off into unintelligible mumbling, crossing to the pod’s data screen and poking at it.

Hunk was next to speak up. “Keith...that sounds...terrifying.”

Gritting his teeth, he tried for a small smile. “Yeah, it...it was.” His brows pulled down. “I could feel all of it. All the bones moving, the skin and muscles and whatever going back together…” He shuddered, and if he wasn’t mistaken, nearly everyone else in the room did, too. “I don’t ever want to go back in a pod again.”

Coran cleared his throat. “My boy, I’m afraid I have quite an apology to make.” Keith looked up to see the advisor facing him again, but staring down at his feet. “It’s, uh...well, we’ve never had someone of...mixed species use the healing pods before.”

Keith shut his eyes. Of course. Of course it would come back to his Galra heritage.

“The data here indicates that the pod recognized you only as human, since it appears that most of your anatomy is, in fact, human. But the failure to account for the rest of your DNA is apparently where things went wrong. It obviously caused you great distress, and probably great pain, and...I’m terribly sorry, my boy. I should have taken more time to ensure that everything was set correctly at the beginning.”

“It’s not your fault, Coran,” Pidge interrupted before Keith could open his mouth to say the same exact thing. She had shimmied her way between the advisor and the screen and was bending over it, the light reflecting off of her glasses. “This thing literally has no clue how to deal with mixed species.” Looking over her shoulder at Keith, she smiled. “We’ll work on that, starting right now.”

“Well, still.” Coran twiddled with his moustache nervously. “I should have known that already. I should have had it ready for Number Four before he needed it.”

“It’s alright. I forgive you.” Keith mustered a smile, and Coran returned it brightly.

“Thank you, lad. Well, Number Five, are you ready to get tinkering?”

Pidge immediately launched into a longwinded explanation of her thoughts for the project, and Hunk quickly joined in. Shiro wrapped an arm around Keith’s shoulders and pulled him in close. 

“I’m really sorry you had to go through that. Looks like these three will have it all fixed for you if you ever need to go in again, though.”

Keith tensed, glancing up at the still looming pod and swallowing hard. “Yeah. Well...I’m gonna...try really hard to not need it again.”

Shiro squeezed him tighter. “That’s a good idea, regardless.”

[fllinginluvwevry1]

i don’t wanna be alone

JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: Topper leaves you to be with your best friend Sarah and you find comfort in a pogue. (Sorry I’m really bad at this)

Warnings: angst, fluff, sadness, betrayal, swearing, hating on Sarah Cameron, mentions of Topper x reader.

Word Count: 1,160

A/N:this is probably really bad and I’m sorry about any errors in grammar or spelling. Also sorry about any weird spacing or formatting.

🖤🦋🖤🦋🖤🦋

I sat alone at the boneyard party gulping down the alcohol in my hand as I saw my former best friend and boyfriend together. Feeling a wave of sadness and anger come over me remembering the events from the week before.

Topper had me meet him at the park on figure eight and proceeded to break up with me and tell me he was leaving me to be with who I thought was my best friend, turns out Sarah Cameron was just a backstabbing bitch.

As a result of all of this I now have no friends nor did I have a boyfriend, I obviously didn’t want to associate with Sarah anymore and the only reason Rafe and Kelce and the other kooks talked to me was because I was dating Topper. I was technically a kook but I acted far more like a pogue so none of the kooks ever really liked me.

I pushed myself up from the sand and started walking towards the secluded part of the beach, what I was unaware of though was the pair of blue eyes watching me walk away.

Once I walked far enough that the party was out of sight and almost out of hearing I fell back down to the sandy beach. I looked out to the waves and sat with tears welling in my eyes as I realized more and more that I had no one. And that fact hurt me more than anything else. There was no one for me to talk to, no one to console me or tell me that Topper isn’t worth it, it was one of the first times in a long time that I was completely and utterly alone.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, tangling my hands in my hair and resting my forehead on my knees as tears fell. My cries were accompanied by the sound of the waves crashing and the distant sounds of drunk teenagers.

“Hey!” I heard a vaguely familiar voice call. I quickly wiped my tears and looked up seeing JJ Maybank walking towards me. “Are you okay?” He asked as he got closer. “Don’t you have a party to be attending.” I said voice cracking as I looked back to the waves attempting to shield my tear stained face.

“Well maybe I’d rather talk to you.” He said sitting down on the sand beside me. “Why would you wanna talk to me?” I asked, still not facing him. “Because, you’re a super cool rich surfer chick, and I heard what happened with you and Topper.” He replied. “Right, so you’re talking to me out of pity.” I said partially scoffing at the end. “What? I don’t pity you.” He said, sounding a little offended.

“Then why the fuck do you wanna be around me, then, I’m the fucking kook reject. I’m not good enough for Topper, or Sarah, or Rafe, or any of the others.” I snapped, finally turning to him. “Hey, if anyone isn’t good enough it’s them.” JJ said with intensity.

“If that’s true then why am I alone, why did my best friend betray me and why did Topper leave me.” He stayed silent. “I just don’t understand what’s so wrong with me that not even my own parents care. What did I do?” I said voice breaking and tears falling again.

“Hey!” JJ snapped, grabbing me and forcing me to look at him. “There is nothing wrong with you, parents are shit and so are those fucking kooks.” He said,sternly. “How are you gonna say that when you don’t even know me.” I replied, shoving him off me.

“Are you fucking kidding me.” He grabbed me again. “You are Y/N fucking Y/L/N, you gave five hundred dollars to a homeless guy two days ago as if it was nothing, every hatching season you come to the beach to make sure the turtles make it to the ocean, you might be an even better surfer than I am, and in seventh grade Rafe tried to punch John B and you got infront of him and told Rafe that you would call his mother if you saw him trying to hurt anyone else and Thant you didn’t care if that made you a snitch or not because it’s better than being an asshole, and I have had the biggest crush on you ever since then. I know you y/n.” By the time JJ was finished I had more tears running from my eyes but more from feeling overwhelmed by the information JJ had just given me than from sadness or anger.

I quickly leaned forward and pressed my lips against JJ’s. He definitely seemed surprised at first but then started to kiss back. I pulled away slightly but JJ quickly pulled me back to kiss me again. We made out for a while before he pulled away and rested his forehead against mine.

“I’ve had a crush on you since fifth grade when you did everything you could to make me laugh when I was crying after I fell off the monkey bars.” I told him a little breathless. JJ pulled away and looked at me searching my eyes. “y/n y/l/n, will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend.” I giggled a little and responded. “JJ Maybank, I would want nothing more in the world.” With stupid smiles on both of our faces we kissed again.

JJ and I spent the rest of the night on the secluded part of the beach talking. About an hour after I woke up the next morning JJ called me and told me to meet him at the dock behind my house. I was nervous since I would be hanging out with the Pogues and Kie. Kie and I were friends when her and Sarah were friends and she tried to warn me about Sarah back then but I didn’t listen so I’m not sure how she’s gonna react to me reappearing in her life.

I waited on the dock for about ten minutes before JJ and the Pogues pulled up to the dock in a small boat. “Hi.” I said and gave a slight wave feeling a little insecure. A small round of hey's went around and then Kie said, “I told you Sarah Cameron was a bitch.” I laughed and replied with, “yeah, I probably should have listened when I had the chance. I missed you Kie.” The girl smiled at me and I stepped onto the boat and hugged her tightly. She hugged me back and said, “Missed you too y/n/n.”

I let go of Kie and said hi to Pope and John B again before JJ grabbed my hips and gave me a short kiss. “Guys this is my girl y/n.”

Over the next weeks the Pogues became the best friends I could ask for and I was so much happier with them than I ever was with the kooks.

🖤🦋🖤🦋🖤🦋

A/N: I don’t know I feel like this was kind of boring, like I don’t know how to translate the vision in my head into words but tell me what you think.

[lonelyandlovelorn]

Adore You

A/N: Wow, this is my first request and I really liked it. Sorry it took me a while to get written, it’s been a wild week, as I’m sure you all know. To @marvel-madness, I hope this is close to what you wanted, I’m sorry if it’s not perfect. Also, tagging is being weird so I hope this works. 

Genre: fluff and like, a smidge of angst that’s hardly angst

Warning: uhh, none

Word count: 1500

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem reader

Summary: You’re weird and afraid Loki hates you.

Request: marvel-madness asked:

Hi I read your marvel fanfics and I love it!! Could u do a fanfic where reader is like super quirky and tries to get to know Loki but he’s a bit cold and she feels that he hates her. And one day she confronts him crying and he’s all like I love you and I felt someone perfect like you wouldn’t want to be with me. Love your works and hope you’re having a good day :)

Masterlist

You’re weird. Even if you didn’t have superpowers, you would be weird, and that never bothered you. Until now, it seems. You have always been okay with being the strange girl, because anyone who thinks that’s a bad thing isn’t worth your time.

But then you met Loki. You greeted him in all of his stoic glory and were immediately drawn to him. Wanda later let you know you had gone a little doe-eyed upon meeting him. However, as warm and welcoming as you tried to be, he never looked at you with anything better than indifference. Worse than that, you often felt as though he judged you for the way you acted and dressed. You know your social skills aren’t exactly the norm, but you don’t think you’re terrible. And maybe your style is a little eccentric, but it makes you happy. 

You have spent your whole life ignoring judging looks and funny stares from those around you, and that was okay because they were just people who thought they were better than you. But now, the man you’ve been fascinated by since you met him seems to look at you the same way. And now, it breaks through the armor you had built up in childhood. It hits you right in the chest to see what you’re sure is judgment reflected in his gaze.

A few days into Loki joining the team in the tower, Thor assures you that his brother is always like that. He tells you not to take it personally. Thor is a sweet man (god?) and you think that if Loki cares so deeply for someone so much his opposite, then maybe he’s just hiding a kindness. You decide you need to get over your fear and possible prejudices and make it your mission to get to know him. 

You begin by joining him on the couch as he sits alone reading. He has found a common area most of the rest of the team avoids, but that you happen to frequent for the peacefulness. As you sit a seat away from him, jostling him in the process, he glances at you from the corner of his eye. You can’t be sure that’s a look of judgment, but it resembles many a side-eye you’ve gotten in your life. You shake the feeling off and push forward. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, chipper and enthusiastic. 

“Reading,” he responds shortly, briefly looking in your direction. 

After a moment, you continue. “What are you reading?”

“A book.”

There is an awkward pause where you had hoped he might continue talking, but he doesn’t and you have to keep trying. “So, how has your time here been so far?”

“Fine.” This time, he doesn’t even look away from the page. Your shoulders sag, seeing how obviously he doesn’t want to speak to you. You give a quiet goodbye before trudging out of the room. 

--

It’s really okay that he doesn’t like you, but does he have to look at you like that? You hadn’t noticed originally, but a few weeks after his arrival, you could feel eyes on you. You casually glanced around, only to find Loki looking at you, stone faced. You had blushed in confusion before quickly looking away.

But he keeps doing it. Sometimes you’ll just be wandering around the tower in some strange and unmatching outfit, and you will be able to feel that sensation of someone watching you. Almost every time, he’s the only one in the room. It would feel flattering if his look came with the heat that people always describe in romance. He doesn’t look at you like he wants you, though. He looks at you almost in complete indifference. Maybe if you were trained like Natasha, you would be able to read more into it, but all you can see is the exact same stare you had gotten all throughout your adolescence, riddled with condescension and judgment. It could have just been the fact that he was raised a prince that made it feel like he was always looking down his nose at you, but a lifetime of being a target of mockery and ostracism could really shake one’s confidence. 

You know you talk a lot about strange things, your laugh is weird, and on and on. But why does he have to watch you as though he’s waiting for you to make a fool of yourself? Why does he hate you without even knowing you?

--

Your worries are interrupting your sleep schedule. You’re too anxious and wrapped up in your fears to sleep, so you go to your favorite lounge. You like it because whoever designed it hadn’t felt the need to add a TV or any fancy technology. It’s just some big and comfortable couches with a great view. You stare numbly into the lights of New York. At least in the dark, no one is there to think you odd. 

Of course, you have to think something like that. Moments later, you hear steps coming towards you. You look over your shoulder to see the God of Mischief himself walking into the room, seemingly unaware of your presence. He walks around the couch to sit down, only to finally notice you as he settles in. The book in his hands closes as though you startle him. 

“Oh, hello,” he greets quietly. 

You’re a nice person, but you’ve lost a lot of sleep over this man, and you can’t hold in the huff of frustration at his words. He quirks a brow at you. “Have I done something?”

You realize as soon as he asks that you should have left when he entered the room. You’re a lot less nice when you’re tired, sure. Unfortunately, you’re also much more emotional. You are reminded of this when you immediately feel your eyes sting at his words. You try your hardest to hold the tears in, but your sniffle gives you away. His eyes widen momentarily and he scoots slightly closer to you on the couch. 

“Why do you hate me?” you ask, your voice obviously choked up. You train your eyes on the city lights once more, afraid to see disdain in his eyes. 

“Hate you?” He genuinely seems confused by your question, and that somehow makes it so much worse. Without warning, your face scrunches up and your tears fall, out of your control. If you were to look at him, you would see the frantic concern on his face now, more emotion than you’ve ever seen. 

“I was so excited to meet you. I wanted to get to know you and maybe be friends or something, but you didn’t want that. I tried to be nice, but you hated me no matter what. I know I can be to excitable and clingy, but I wasn’t even that bad! And then you look at me like my presence is offensive. Please don’t hate me for being weird, I’m sorry, I’ll be better, I swear.” The exhaustion is surely the reason for your lack of filter. While you speak, you tuck your knees to your chest and hug them. Somehow, every insecurity you had ever had in a friendship or relationship leaks into this conversation. You bury your face in your knees in shame at your outburst. 

You’re startled to feel a cold hand on your arm. You look up quickly into his eyes to see him looking at you earnestly. “My dear, you are absolutely perfect the way you are, I don’t want you to change.” A small, almost bashful, smile appears. “I swear on my life I do not hate you.”

You wipe your nose in the most un-ladylike way, keeping your eyes glued to him. “You don’t?”

He shakes his head slightly. “Darling, I adore you.” 

You’re sure you’ve never felt more like a deer in the headlights. “You what?”

He looks down at his hands, which you now see are fiddling with his book. “I adore you. You’re lovely and energetic, you light up a room with your smile, and to top it all off, you were kind to me from the moment I got here. I was quite taken with you. I hoped to hide that by seeming unaffected by you, but my intentions were not to make you feel bad about yourself.” 

“Then why…?” you trail off. 

He lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. “I didn’t want to fool myself into believing myself worthy of someone as wonderful as you. You could do much better.”

You don’t speak for a long time, shocked to your core. He adores me. His eyes never leave his book as you appraise him. You can see in the hunch of his shoulders that he is preparing for rejection. In a split-second of courage, you set your hand on top of his, stopping it from messing with the book cover. When he doesn’t pull away, you let out a shaky breath and intertwine your fingers with his. He watches in fascination, and you can feel a grin overtake your face. 

“Will you tell me about what you’re reading now?” As he finally meets your eyes with a small smile, his expression can only be described as adoration. 

[teawithkpop]

[M] - PhysCom - Bonus Chapter

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 2.6k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of birth control, mentions of sexual acts

here’s a little something to tide you guys over until pt 4 is ready~! (feat. the troublesome 95 liners lol) This chapter takes place right after Jimin and Taehyung were sent to their rooms in pt 3. I’m posting it on tumblr first, and AO3 later tonight ^^ also, this chapter has not been beta read, so it’s a nice surprise and a thank you to all my lovely beta readers as well, hehe~ hope you enjoy!

“This is all your fucking fault!” Jimin seethes, his cheeks still fiery red from being reprimanded.

Taehyung’s surprised and a little miffed at how angry Jimin is. Usually it takes a lot more to get the boy so riled up, but for some reason he’s all in knots from only some mild teasing at dinner.

“My fault?” He growses, his brow creasing as he rubs his sore shoulder from where Jimin pushed him into the table. “How is it my fault that you’re terrible at expressing your feelings?”

“Forget my feelings! What about hers?” Jimin’s face is twisted in barely contained rage as he whips around on the stairs to glare at Taehyung. “Did you even consider how she must feel after all this?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen. Of course he considers your feelings. That’s why he’d suggested that Jimin should tell you how he feels about you. The boy has been denying his crush on you for the last three months. Taehyung was just trying to help.

Okay, help and tease Jimin. Just a little.

Taehyung purses his lips, not about to veer off topic when clearly Jimin needs to explore this area of his heart. “You’re deflecting, Jiminie.”

“I am not fucking deflecting…” Jimin grumbles, trudging up the last few steps before storming off in the direction of his room. He throws a hesitant gaze down the hallway that leads to your room, but he keeps moving.

Taehyung notices and huffs at Jimin’s avoidance of the topic. He’s starting to get annoyed at being blamed for this tantrum, when it’s obviously Jimin’s own fault that he’s so emotionally constipated. “Well, then what the fuck is your problem, huh?”

Jimin is silent.

“You obviously like her, so why don’t you do something about it?”

Jimin wants to list, in great detail, all the reasons why he won’t do something about it. For one, there are boundaries, which you’ve made clear since you started working with them, and he’s already tested them once. The only thing he would hate more than keeping his feelings bottled up is breaking your trust. Secondly, because of your position in the house, there’s a weird… power dynamic. One that he doesn’t want to use to take advantage of you, even unintentionally.

Thirdly, for all he knows, you don’t have any feelings for him at all outside of your business with him, and all those nights you’ve spent acting like a doting girlfriend to him in the bedroom, experimenting and playing with him and giving him unimaginable pleasure… maybe it’s all been just that - an act. The fear of rejection from every possible angle has his confidence hitting rock bottom.

And now, after what you’ve confided in him? He can’t fathom burdening you with anything else, you have enough on your plate. But he knows voicing all this won’t do any good, not when Taehyung’s mind is set on something like it is now.

Taehyung can see that the boy’s neck is red, and he’s clearly embarrassed about something. Or maybe ashamed? He’s hard to read sometimes, like earlier when he walked in on you and Taehyung kissing-

Oh… wait a second.

Is this because Taehyung kissed you first? Before Jimin got a chance?

A goofy grin comes across Taheyung’s face. “Oh, I see what’s going on. You’re jealous, aren’t you?” Jimin’s shoulders visibly tense. That has to be it. Taehyung giggles gleefully and pokes him in the ribs. “She can still like you even though she kissed me, you know.“

“Shut up.” Jimin mutters, clenching his fists in an attempt to squeeze the anger out before it boils over him. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think I know pretty well.” Taehyung continues, confident that he’s found the root of Jimin’s problem and determined to dig deeper in order to remove it. After all, what are friends for if not to be the laxative to one’s emotional constipation? “You just don’t want to admit it, do you?”

Jimin’s pulse is pounding in his ears. One more word out of this boy’s mouth tonight, and he is going to lose it. It was bad enough at dinner when he kept taunting Jimin, threatening to eat you out in front of everyone - “I bet her other lips taste even better…” Now he thinks this is all about being jealous over a stupid kiss? Can’t he understand that there are much more serious issues at play here?

Seeing you break at dinner broke something inside him, too. Something that was long waiting to snap. Now, like a chemical reaction, that break is releasing all of his anger, at the world, at himself, at Taehyung…

“Come on, Jiminie. You’re jealous.” Taehyung thinks maybe a little more teasing is in order. Jimin clearly needs a push to admit what’s bothering him. “What would have happened this afternoon if you hadn’t walked in on us, hm? I wonder…”

Jimin counts to ten, tries to tune out the words. “Taehyung. Stop it.”

“I would’ve kissed her some more, slipped my tongue into her mouth… dragged it down her neck as I laid her out on that bed.” Taehyung’s voice drops lower as he himself begins imagining what could have been. “Doesn’t that make you jealous? I would have showed her such a good time. Would’ve eaten that pussy the way she deserves…”

“Shut up. Stop talking.” Jimin says through clenched teeth, his knuckles turning white as he remembers the crestfallen look of resignation on your face earlier in the day as you explained your… predicament to him. He thinks he can never look at you the same way again, overwhelmed with guilt at what was done to you. In a way, it was done for his own benefit, and he hates himself for it. Hates that he’s been conditioned to take advantage of you.

Tae continues with a chuckle, unaware of Jimin’s internal struggle and thinking he’s making good progress. Once Jimin admits his feelings, then they can start to move forward. “Mm… I’d make her scream for me, Jiminie. Make her toes curl and her cheeks all red… I’d make her cum on my tongue, over and over-”

“She CAN’T!” Jimin’s fist slams into the wall with a loud crack, leaving a dent there. He can’t take it anymore, can’t stand Taehyung unwittingly mocking your problem, it’s too cruel in his eyes, too much sick irony for him to stand, and the truth comes tumbling out before he can stop it. “She… she can’t cum, Tae.”

Jimin breathes heavily, his chest heaving from revealing your secret. He didn’t mean to… it just came out. He leans against the wall for support, his head hung with guilt.

Taehyung blinks. “She… can’t?”

Jimin shakes his head.

“But… she has-”

“They were fake. For us,” Jimin runs a hand through his hair. “For our… fucking pleasure.” He spits out the words bitterly, his lip trembling as he sinks down against the wall.

Taehyung is shocked. You never came with them? Not once?

Well that has got to change.

“She told you this?” Taehyung asks carefully, wanting to get all the facts before deciding anything.

Jimin nods forlornly, drawing his knees up to his chest. “It’s some type of birth control. She said there’s a way to turn it off, but only for emergencies.” His eyes are glassy as he looks up at Taehyung and all of his worries come tumbling out. “I don’t think I can have sex with her again, Tae. Not if she… she can’t…” His voice trails off as tears form in his eyes.

It finally dawns on Taehyung why Jimin had been acting so strangely. Why he wouldn’t fuck you at dinner.

God, he feels like a jerk now.

“Hey…” He kneels down and puts a hand on Jimin’s shoulder, offering the distraught boy some comfort, though he himself is plagued with foreboding at this new revelation, too. “Hey, it’s okay. We can make this right, don’t worry.”

“How? How can this ever be right, Tae? It’s wrong. It’s so wrong.” Jimin tries not to burst into tears, the thought of your body being affected so adversely just so they can dump their loads inside you. It has him feeling sick. “What else is she hiding? What else did they do to her…?” His voice grows quiet, horrified at the unknown possibilities.

Taehyung has somewhat of an idea what else you may be keeping from them. You’d skirted around the harsh facts, sure, but you’d told him enough about your training days for him to know it wasn’t a cake walk.

He remembers one particular evening when you’d let slip about the… exercises you’d had to do. Grueling practice that would allow your body to stretch and bend and choke to do whatever it is that your potential masters could ever want from you.

But sitting here and speculating about what’s already been done won’t help anything. What he and Jimin need is a plan of action. A set of steps to follow, a… a guide.

Holy shit. Could it really be that easy?

“Jimin.” Taehyung gets his attention, and when the boy meets his eyes, he smiles. “What’s the best way to win a game?”

Jimin blinks at him, confused by the change in topic. “Depends on the game.”

Tae laughs. “No, no. To win a game, any game, you need to know the rules like you know the back of your hand.” He stands and helps Jimin up as well, splaying his hand out in front of the other boy’s face as if to demonstrate. “Then, you just need a winning strategy.”

“I don’t understand.” Jimin says, pushing Taehyung’s hand aside with a worried frown.

“Don’t you remember when she first came here? We got a manual, like a user’s guide.” He pats Jimin on the back, and hurries down the hall towards the study.

Jimin tries to keep up with his long strides, confusion still creasing his brow. None of them had touched that manual since they got it. “Yeah, but how will a manual help? Her job is… pretty straightforward.”

Taehyung shakes his head, clasping the door handle and pulling the heavy oak door open. “The instructions for operation are simple, sure. But you know what else you can find in user guides?”

Jimin blows a puff of air, getting tired of Taehyung’s cryptic logic and mixed metaphors. “What, Tae?”

“Troubleshooting.” He grins deviously and heads inside, making his way over to the uppermost drawer of the file cabinet against the wall. “Like perhaps, emergency procedures?”

Namjoon keeps every piece of reference material they might need - from paperwork to take out menus - meticulously organized here in this room, despite the often chaotic state of own living space. Sure enough, the PhysCom manual is filed right where it should be: under ‘P’, and the date of around six months ago.

Taehyung finds a thick stack of papers in the file, containing a copy of the PhysCom contract agreement, transcripts from the members’ personal interviews, and many other goodies that might come in handy. Besides that, there’s the manual itself, a much slimmer read, bound together with a rather wry title, Physical Companions - The Ins and Outs of Your Personal Pleasure Provider.

He snorts a laugh at the ridiculous verbiage, and flips open to the index, skimming his finger along the subjects, seemingly in order of necessity. Nourishment, Hydration, Cleaning and Care, Contraceptives… Bingo.

“Hmm… here we go.” He turns to the correct page and skims the sea of text. “Aha!” His finger points out an italicized passage in the middle of the page, with a helpful diagram beside it.

The Opticon Miracle Implant has been used effectively in 99.97% of PhysComs across the world. The technology is ideal for Physical Companions, but there is still a very slim chance that side effects may occur - please see page 106 for a full list of side effects.

In the unlikely event that your PhysCom reacts poorly to the Opticon Miracle Implant, follow the guide below to shut off the device, and then administer first aid to your PhysCom until paramedics can arrive. To shut off the Opticon Miracle Implant, simply access the Settings in your PhysCom’s ComGear and select ‘Health and Safety’. Next-

A grin slowly spreads across Taehyung’s face as he reads the absurdly simple instructions. “I think we just found our winning strategy.”

“What’s a ComGear?” Jimin asks, looking over the passage as well.

“It’s her phone thingy. The one in her belt.” Taehyung says, proud to remember the answer from when you’d first mentioned it. “We could get in there, no problem, as long as there’s no password for it.”

Jimin still looks unconvinced as he skims over the text. “But we can’t just shut it off. It’s her… birth control. She can’t have sex without it, she could get… you know, pregnant.” He looks slightly uncomfortable at discussing the topic at length.

“Hm. You’re right.” Tae deflates, setting down the manual. Maybe this wasn’t as simple as he’d hoped. “Then how can we-”

“Wait!” Jimin’s eyes light up for a moment. “Condoms?”

Tae wobbles his hand back and forth in the air. “Not foolproof. And she’d probably notice.”

“Damn.” Jimin returns to the drawing board, humming as he tries to think up a solution. What if they turn it off just for a while? Just long enough to make you cum… “Wait, isn’t it her day off soon?”

Taehyung whips out his phone and checks his reminders. Yup. It sure is soon. “The day after tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyes are full of hope. “Can we do it then? After hours tomorrow she won’t be getting fucked, so… no need for birth control, right?”

“It’s the perfect opportunity.” Taehyung nods enthusiastically, and then chuckles, nudging Jimin teasingly. “What a nice way to spend a day off, huh? Getting head from Park Jimin? It’s every girl’s dream.”

Jimin’s cheeks flush. “Wait, what? M-me?”

“Yes, you! Don’t you see?” Tae hooks his arm around Jimin’s shoulder conspiratorially. “This is the perfect chance for you to confess to her.”

Jimin looks down at the decorative carpet. “I don’t know…”

Taehyung pokes his cheek. “Hey. Imagine being the first guy to make her cum in who knows how long.” He gives him an easy smile, as if this was all said and done already. “There’s no way she won’t feel something for you after that.”

Jimin chews it over. It seems… a little sneaky. Like he would be pushing feelings into you, with his tongue. But… he doesn’t have a lot of other options right now, and god damn it, he wants you to cum if it’s the last thing he does.

“Okay,” He looks to Taehyung with determination sparkling in his eyes. “I’m in.”

Taehyung claps him on the back, giving a cheer of victory. “There’s my fearless Jiminie!” He crows, rubbing a noogie to the Jimin’s head, much to Jimin’s protest.

Jimin chuckles and pushes Tae’s arm away, shrugging off the younger boy’s excessive affection. “But we’re going to need a distraction to get into the ComGear without her noticing, right?”

Taehyung thinks for a minute, then that devious smile returns. “Leave the distraction to me.” He pets Jimin’s cheek. “You just focus on getting that tongue ready to taste the sweetest nectar it’s ever experienced.”

Jimin is about to argue, but in the end, he doesn’t question him. Taehyung has gotten them this far, hopefully he can pull off this plan, and nothing will go wrong. Hopefully.

“So what do we do now?” Jimin asks, revved up and ready to take action.

Taehyung grins, quickly putting the papers back into the file, but leaving the manual out to take with him. “Now, we get some beauty sleep, like our lovely PhysCom is probably doing.” He shuts the drawer and guides Jimin to the doors. “And tomorrow night, the game begins.”