#I am normal about this man I swear your honour

[trickclouds]

I think you like Isabeau

I don’t know what you’re talking about dear sibling [:

[telvess]

Reader who is sick similar to jataka

Since you didn't specify, I assumed I could write whatever came to my mind + sorry to disappoint you, but Jataka isn't a character that I know how to write.

RoR: Comforting a sick Reader (Jataka, Herakles)

Jataka

Prince Jataka was dying. People never spoke the truth out loud for fear of incurring the king's wrath, but everyone knew his days were numbered. Countless doctors were brought to the palace to find, but none of them were successful. One of them was your father, whom you recently came with, swearing that he would not fail to save the life of beloved prince. But you knew he lied: the prince wasn’t the one he wanted to save, but the path to his destination - to save you, because you were dying too; same symptoms, same fate as the prince. Your father couldn’t accept this, so he took you with him to a place, where money or other limitations didn’t exist. Six months have passed since you arrived. Occasional attacks of illness became more and more frequent, but apart from that you couldn’t complain about life in the palace. You were heading towards your father’s private chambers where he was working on a cure. You wanted to spend some time with him, even if you knew he couldn’t spare you much of it. You sneaked in, planning a surprise attack on your father. But instead of him, you found someone else. The man stood with his back to you, his long white hair was loose. He leaned towards your father’s desk. You had never seen this person before and without second thought, you said out loud: — You should not be here! My father’s chambers are a private matter! The man turned to you, you saw no signs of anger on his gentle face. — I only meant to speak to him — he said in a calm voice that made your body fall apart. You’ve never seen this man up close, but you’ve heard his voice before. Prince Jataka. You just shouted at Prince Jataka. — P-prince! I… I am s-s-so sorry! — you fell to your knees, your face touching the floor, cursing your own stupidity. — It’s alright — you heard — You meant well. Arise. You didn't have the courage to look up, but you did as he said. Except your body didn’t want to listen to you. you staggered and felt dizziness hit your head in a sudden bout of sickness. Why now? Just when you thought you were going to fall, someone's hands grabbed your shoulders and helped you keep your balance. You looked up to see his concerned face. He was so close that you could see how blue his beautiful eyes were. Almost as bright as sky at noon. If it weren't for the circumstances, you would have stared at them much longer, but his unexpected act of kindness towards you made your cheek feel warm and brought you back to reality. — Are you all right? — he asked, his voice as gentle as his expression. — Y-yes, I’m sorry. He didn’t believe you. You were leaning on the table, struggling to act normal and prince Jataka saw through you and your pathetic lies. — Are you sick? — he pointed to the table — Your hand… You followed his finger and saw your hand tremble. One of the symptoms… — No, I-… no… At that moment you knew there was no point in lying, but your mind lacked any other option. You opened your mouth, then closed it again, feeling like a complete idiot. Then Prince Jataka smiled at you, but it was the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes. It's just a sad gesture of understanding. He knew. — Your father is the most committed of all the doctors I know. I finally understood why. It's not about honours or money. Oh no, you accidentally sold your father out. Your heart sped up in a panic attack. — N-no! He really wants to cure you, my prince! — you assured with squeaky voice, but the prince only smiled at you again. To your surprise you didn’t sense any anger from him. — Don’t worry, I’m not upset. It’s just… this is the first time I meet someone like me, so let me ask you, who I share the same fate with… How are you handling it? He looked at you as you struggled to answer. You had a lot to say, but should you? You were worried that once you started, you wouldn’t be able to stop. If you torn down that wall, an ocean of words, emotions and fear would take over, and you weren’t sure if had enough strength to close it again. Your expression must have spoken for you very clearly, because Prince Jataka sighed.

— I'd hoped to avoid this, but — his voice became more authoritative — I demand an honest answer. You own it to your ruler. You swallowed hard and looked away. — Well, I… I’m dying. I wish my father would accept this and spend little time I’ve got left with me, but he believes he can save me. It’s not that I don’t appreciate his commitment and sacrifice. I just want to live before I die. And then there was silence. You did your best to hold back the tears, but your stupid heart was beating too loud to ignore. Whenever your father was in that moment, you really wanted him to come back right now, before you completely lost your mind. Finally you raised your head to met prince’s eyes. You didn’t know what his look meant and - in fact - you didn’t care, because compared to overwhelming emotions you felt right now, his opinion was small and fragile. You would never said that out loud. — You know — you flinched, hearing his calm voice again — Yesterday I said something very familiar to my cousin. He’s such a free spirit, acting out of his prestigious position, sometimes almost childish, but I can’t deny how much joy he has brought into my life — Prince Jataka smiled, this time for real, you could see the spark in his eyes — Anyway… I told him that I wish to see more than my palace and its gardens. More of a sky above us. More world. — B-but you can! You’re prince after all — you mumbled without thinking — Forgive me! My stupid tongue…! — you covered your mouth. — We all are prisoners of our lives — he said — I have wealth to fulfill my dream, but my responbilities hold me back. And you… you have your father right next to you, but he is too stubborn to give up. He was right - how ironic was that? Prince Jataka suddenly seemed to you not like royal man, but an average person. His smile, his gentle voice, his wisdom brought peace to your mind and for the first time today you also smiled. — Aren’t you… scared? — you asked quietly. — I would be lying if I said I don’t, but the closer I get to death, the calmer I feel. To your surprise, he placed his hand over yours, his long fingers touched your skin and sent some kind of spark down your spine. Your cheek got warm, as he curled his fingers around your wrist. — Your hand stopped shaking, but pulse is unstable — he said, withdrawing his hand. You didn’t know what to say, so you remained silent. — Thank you for your honesty. Let your father know I am looking for him. You watched his back as he left the chamber. A part of you wanted him to stay, but you weren't brave enough to say it out loud. Maybe in another time, in another life…

Herakles

Life in Thebes was difficult, to say at best. Especially for someone as fragile as you, who struggled your entire life because of the sickness. To survive in this place, you had to be strong or wealthy. You lacked both, even though your parents tried to provide you with a decent life, you still had days of hunger. But today wasn’t supposed to be bad. The baker, a man with kind heart, was giving away bread to the poor. It hadn’t happened before, and you - like many others - approached the small crowd, hoping for anything, even scraps. The sight of the others leaving with loaves made your stomach growl. — Out of my way! — someone pushed you, the force knocked you off your feet. You felt into dirt. — Ouch — you snarled in pain. You looked up just and saw some big boy your age, who seemed to be very proud of himself. He smirked at you. Next to him stood a tall and very skinny boy, obviously his friend, who was currently whispering something in his ear that both of them could giggle at. You recognized them. You stood up, dusted yourself off, and with anger rising in your chest, confronted both of them: — I was standing here! Big boy snorted. — You don’t need food — he said. — You look like you've already eaten a cow, if anybody doesn’t need it, it’s you! — you shouted at him. Father taught you not to be mean to others, but you were too angry to listen to your conscience. Big boy didn’t seem to be bother by your words anyway. — My father said you’ll be dead soon anyway. You… didn’t expect that. — Yeah — his tall friend replied with a nod — The only thing you gonna need is a funeral, so go and find a grave site! And then they both laughed loudly, watching you break inside. In one heartbeat your anger flew away, and all that remained was the devastating despair and fear of the unknown that had haunted you for months. It hit you like thunder and paralysed you for a moment, before you turned and started running, chased by their laugh. As you passed the streets, trying to escape the sad reality you lived in, you felt wetness on your cheeks and salt on the lips. Suddenly you found yourself on a hill, far from the city. Out of breath, you looked around, but besides flock of sheep in the distance, you didn’t see nobody else. You decided to get to the top of the hill and rest there, away from the others. You didn’t want to show your tears to your mother after all. — Why are you crying? — you heard and immediately raised your head. In front of you, at the top of the hill, stood a tall boy, no… a muscular man with black, long hair tied in a ponytail, who was now watching you carefully. You quickly wiped the tears and shouted: — I’m not!

An obvious lie, but you hoped the tone of your voice would scare him away. — Your eyes are swollen, I can tell something's wrong — he took a few steps closer, but when you started to walk away, he stopped. — It’s nothing, I just fell. — I see — he looked you up and down, you followed his gaze and saw your toga in decent shape, without any signs of falling — But I don’t believe you. Has anyone hurt you? — No… You turned you back on him and started walking away. You had to find somewhere else to clear your head before sunset, so you'd better hurry. You no longer heard the stranger oppose, so you allowed yourself to sigh in relief. But then you flinched when you felt his hand on your shoulder. How someone so big could move so fast? — Let go of me! — you shouted at him, jumping away. — Not until you tell me the truth. I will help you! — his voice sounded… no, maybe it was a matter of his unshakeable confidence? Something had snapped inside you and suddenly his face became smeared. You felt a taste of tears in your mouth. — You can’t help me — you sobbed, looking down at your feet — Nobody can. I’m sick… A terrible weight appeared on your heart, dragging down your thoughts, like a cast anchor. You couldn’t stop flowing tears, just like you couldn’t stop the fear from creeping under your skin. — Did you just find out? You raised your head to see man’s worried face. His blue eyes watched you carefully. — No… why? — his question confused you. — People usually react this way at the beginning, then they learn to accept it — he explained, but to your surprise, his face began to change: he frowned, his jaw clenched, — Which means someone has upset you. — They… — you started, but a new wave of sadness hit you. — I’m sorry — said stranger — I can’t help you, that’s true, but I can listen you. Tell me what happened. You wiped your eyes one more time. Doubts occurred in your head. — I don’t even know you. Why are you doing this? He blinked his eyes, only then realizing what you meant, and massaged his neck in a rush of embarrassment. — Ah, my apologies. My name is Alcides and I cannot ignore someone who is in need. And then he gave you such a soft, sincere smile that disarmed you. — Oh… — you mumbled, feeling unknown something growing in the chest — I’m y/n. — Would you like to sit with me? At the top of the hill, y/n? You wanted to, and then you started sharing everything you had been hiding for the past years. Things you thought you would have to take to your grave because they were just too hard for your parents and friends to listen to. You didn’t want them to deal with it, but the stranger you knew nothing about… he could handle that. — … and then his friend said I should start looking for a place for my grave… I didn’t know what to say, so I just ran away… Alcides sighed, You saw the muscles in his arm tense as he ran his fingers through his hair. Seeing his anger gave you a little joy. — I’ll take care of these two — he said, almost calmly. — You know them? — Yes, they've been causing trouble for as long as I can remember. Alcides looked at you and his expression soften a bit, which brought a smile to your face. — You know, it’s unusual to meet someone like you — you pointed with a finger at his naked, sculpted chest — who has such a kind heart. To your satisfaction, your words made Alcides' cheeks turn red. You giggled at his reaction, which only caused his blush deepen. — Are you happy? — he growled. — Yes, I feel much better! Thank you. Alcides only wanted to listen to you, but he ended up stealing your heart.

[whumpy-wyrms]

Hello hi! Just read the newest chapter and I am Insane

I saw the update and I was so excited I nearly dropped my phone, I was almost normal enough to read it when I saw the wing whump tag, the crowd went insane and it ended up taking nearly 15 minutes for me to start actually reading.

I am insane, your writing is so beautiful.

(This is just me reacting to the entire fic I'm sorry (no I'm not), you don't have to respond to this one)

Anton, the wet cat of a man, watching the trees for an hour each day and counting that as touching grass enough.

He deserves immortality, I think he should get it, he can be trusted yes.

Hjshjshsjsgsjhsjshjshj he's being accommodating with the lights and the textures my heart- (we stan the tisms supporting the tisms)

"But hey, it's for science!" My Absolute Beloved, Anton can do whatever he wants to do he deserves it.

When the when the when the when the autistic wet cats of men communication (Anton and Dew talking at any given time)

The flinch going to the table >>>>>>>

THE LYING ON THE FRONT >>>>>>>>>>>> OHOHOHO YES

GLOWING GREEN LIQUID IN A COMICALLY LARGE SYRINGE YESSSSSSSSSSSSDHSHSFFHSDHHSHKDJFHSHDSJJ i am so normal about this i swear

The descriptions are so beautiful and vivid, have I mentioned I love your writing?

The Cloth Gag Yes

I just had to put my phone down for a second at that line woa I'm not usually one for duct tape gags, but this may have changed my mind on that front

When the man is in Pain and the other man is sat Criss-Cross Apple Sauce

He is in pain for weeks oh my with only Anton for company oh my he is going as insane as I am

He is Breaking someone get him a plushie this is beautiful I am handing him a chicken plushie because he is

the wings The Wings THE WINGS THE WINGS THE WINGS THE WINGS THE WINGS THE WINGS THE

YIPPEE YIPPEE YIPPEE YIPPEE YIPPEE YIPPEE YIPPEE

HE IS IN SO MUCH PAIN HE DESERVES A COOKIE

He is Breaking poor guy ohno

""I'm tired of being scared of you,"" I Am On My Knees Good Sir I Didn't Need My Heart Anyways It's Okay

I am holding him so gentle

A lil kiss on the forehead if he's okay with that

Hold lab birb gentle like hamburger

I am giving him a week's paid holiday somewhere maybe just home for a bit (oh wait that's the lab now isn't it :3 )

What's the Anton doin

A COOKIE

YEASSSS

THE BOI GOT ONE YIPPEE

I was going to say give Dew a weighted blanket but I guess he has one already huh

"maybe four weeks? Fuck, that was insane." I'LL TELL YOU WHO ELSE IS INSANE OVER THIS

"keeping Dew from moving an inch away from his captor?"

Damn that line. Someone fetch me my fainting couch. I must be dramatic and think of this line often.

Anton you're not the birb here why are you cooing

"excusing Dew's mention of his old life just this once" Dew should slip up :3 as a treat :333

Anton is but a silly guy. A harmless, silly guy.

He has never done anything wrong ever. I support Anton's rights and wrongs. But he has not done wrongs. He is so. He is a little guy, ur honour. He should be allowed to do whatever he wants in life.

Birb instincts *sounds of wait hold on wait I need a minute wait*

Dew's got wings now yay :3

Also his clone doing his own top surgery is even better.

Have a good 24 hours!!!! I'm going to go try to be a little less insane about this I swear (difficulty impossible)

Also I wrote the live react thing in a word doc and it ended up 661 words long! Sorry for so much!

AHHH KJDFGSJGF TYSM I LOVE GETTING ASKS LIKE THESE!!!

A CHICKEN PLUSHIE FOR DEW OMG im definitely gonna draw that now :))

Anton and Dew are both silly little guys living in our silly minds rent free

us when Anton does Anything: its okay he was just feeling silly :3

anyway i was giggling kicking my feet the whole time reading this,, these asks make me so happy :) its still such a surreal feeling having people react to my writing and ocs this way AHHHAJSKDGAKJ this means So Much to me you don’t understand. thanks so much again for the support it makes me so happy people like my writing and characters!!!!! :)

[cherrycheridarling]

"that was painfully sexist" | t.h.

marvel cast x actress!reader

warnings: sexism and swearing

summary: at a panel for the new avenger's film, the questions differ drastically between the female and male actors on stage.

wc: 1.4k

"Okay, a microphone is coming your way, sir."

"Hi! I'm Leonard with Pop Times Blog. My question is for Y/N." your eyes found the bearded man who stood amongst the crowd of reporters.

You nodded, signalling for him to continue, "Playing Silk or Cindy Moon must've came with a lot of challenges. One of them being the costume you are in for most of the film. Can you speak about that and how it fit?" he paused at your skeptical expression, "Like, we all know the suit is skin tight, so did you eat anything special or workout a lot and are you able to wear anything underneath it? Or do you wear a thong and no bra?"

You let out an unenthusiastic chuckle at his question. Beside you, you could hear your cast mates scoffing under their breath. It was common for the women of the MCU to get asked such questions and it saddened you that people normalized such a thing.

Leaning forward, you clasped your hands together and smiled before Robert reached behind Tom Holland and tapped your shoulder, "Would you like me to say something?"

You shook your head, but gave him a grateful grin before returning to the 'man' that asked you such a question, while maintaining eye contact you spoke, "Well, I think the most difficult part about wearing the Silk costume is taking it off after a long day because of how sweaty I get after shooting," you began to fan yourself dramatically, "It all just clings to my body like a second skin and since I am completely nude underneath, it just adds to the problem." sarcasm dripped from your lips as your cast mates snickered at your words.

You quietly laughed to yourself, "I'm only kidding. That question seemed like such a joke that I presumed you expected a joking answer." you cleared your throat, "In all seriousness, it's an honour wearing the suit and I did visit the gym and do some physical fitness regularly to prepare for the role, as did all my cast mates. As for what I wore underneath," you grinned cheekily, having too much fun messing with the reporter, "A Spider-Man onesie was my go-to."

The whole room let out laughs at your words as Tom grabbed your hand and gave you a small squeeze, feeling sorry that you had to answer such absurd questions.

"I hope everyone doesn't sexualize Cindy Moon. She's only a teenager in the film, so keep it in your pants people. That shit is illegal." Anthony pointed an accusing finger at the crowd.

"Thank you for your thoughtful question, Leonard!" Scarlett spoke up, "I hope you got the answer you were looking for."

"Okay, next person."

You sat back in your seat and fiddled with Tom's fingers as the questions were asked towards your cast mates.

"You handled that impressively well, love." Tom whispered in your ear.

You gave him a smile and a shrug before your name got called again, "My question is for Y/N and Tom Holland." a lady with curly blonde hair stood up, "Since Silk and Spider-Man's abilities are very similar, did you two bond over that during shooting or did it cause some rivalry between your characters due to the similarities?"

You felt a wave of relief at the question, thankful that it wasn't another sexist one. Tom looked at you before answering.

"Yeah, yeah. We bonded a lot over that fact and I don't think it caused any rivalry between us. I hope not." he chuckled before you leaned towards the mic.

"No, no. No rivalry. Just a lot of banter about whose character is stronger and who swings around better. It's a lot of fun having someone on set whose stunts are basically the same as yours. And Tom and I have both agreed that Silk is faster and better than Spider-Man." you said that last part quickly drawing laughs and a gasp from Tom.

He looked at you incredulously, "Not true! Spider-Man's suit is so much cooler than Silk's." he huffed like a child.

You smirked, "Who makes their webbing in a high school chemistry class and who has organic silk coming out of her fingertips that she also used to create her own suit?"

Your friends laughed at the banter beside you before Sebastian started to speak, "I have to agree with Y/N on this one. Silk also has that cool ass eidetic memory."

Chris Evans agreed, "And her Silk Sense is a thousand times stronger than Spider-Man's Spidey Sense."

"Isn't she able to know who an attacker is before she even sees them?" Hemsworth asked to which everyone nodded.

"Sorry, Spidey. Silk's just a top tier hero." Robert patted his shoulder as Tom sulked.

The questions began again as the laughter died down. You leaned over to Tom's ear, "Still love the actor who plays Spider-Man even if his character is inferior to mine." he shook his head with a smile at your words.

Questions ranged from the generic ones of the funniest moments on set to who's most likely to become a villain. Your nerves died down as no incompetent person asked another sexist question. Until one did.

"I have a question for Y/N." she was short with jet black hair, "Being around all these attractive men must be a challenge for you as a young female adult. It couldn't have been easy to control yourself around them. Have you had any sexual relationships with any of them or thought about engaging in any?"

Your jaw hung open at her words and before you could muster up a retort, Tom let his anger get the best of him. Was it his anger, his jealousy or his protectiveness? A mix of all three.

"That was painfully sexist." he spoke into the microphone. "I don't see how any of that is relevant to the film. Y/N is an outstanding actress and it's outrageous that you decide to focus on who she fucks rather than her talent."

"What in the actual fuck did she just ask?" Sebastian added, making you laugh.

Chris Evans spoke up next, "Indeed. I thought this was a promotion for the movie not a real life dating app."

Benedict chuckled, "I fail to see how Y/N's private life holds any relevancy to this panel or the film itself."

"It's twenty-nineteen, people! Leave your sexist ass shit at home!" Anthony exclaimed drawing claps from the cast.

Elizabeth shook her head, "I've had my fair share of inappropriate questions, but nothing as horrid as that."

"First y'all ask about her underwear, now you ask about her sex life? Jesus Christ." Scarlett pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Seriously, she's like a daughter to me. That was incredibly disrespectful." Robert added with a disappointed head shake.

Similar comments were added by the rest of the cast as you felt an overwhelming amount of love wash over you. You were so unimaginably grateful for the people next to you.

"You don't have to answer that." Paul Bettany reminded you.

You shook your head and cleared your throat, "Thank you, guys." you looked to your cast mates, "But I'll answer. No, I have not. This cast is my second family and I've grown greatly as a person with them. I'm immensely thankful for the opportunity to call them my friends. And I agree, these men sitting up here with me are undoubtedly attractive, but they are also a great pain in the ass at times," everyone laughed at your choice of words, "And have I thought about having sex with any of them? Nope. Just Scar, Zoe and Liz." you finished with a wink as the room clapped for you.

You couldn't help but to feel a slight bit of sympathy for the woman. Her question was, without a doubt, uncalled for and unbelievably sexist, but the comments from the cast must've made this her most embarassing moment.

"I'm sure you meant no harm with your question. But a little heads up for next time; most actors prefer to talk about their career and their films rather than who they are laying in bed with. But thank you for coming out. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day." you gave her a genuine smile as she cowered back into her seat.

Robert once again reached over and gave your shoulder a squeeze, proud of how you handled the situation.

Tom interlaced your fingers with his and rubbed small circles on your knuckles.

You really were at home with these people and you couldn't have asked for a better family.

[falcons-wings]

spark

bucky barnes x female reader

summary: when trying to get away from a guy who wont leave reader alone, bucky helps get rid of him

warnings: piece of shit dude who harasses and doesnt take no for an answer, swearing ,, pretty fluffy especially towards the end

wc: 1.3k+

masterlist

a/n: decided to do my first bucky work to beef up my masterlist a little and as a small break from the sam series im gonna post soon ,, hope its alright :)

(gif by @1038276637 )

Bucky still felt uncomfortable in incredibly crowded places, he didn’t know whether this was because of his time in the war or all of the shit that happened to him afterwards; either way loud places just like this bar he had been dragged to by Sam unnerved him - there were just so many noises and different possible dangers, so he was on edge all night.

He wasn’t even sure where Sam had disappeared to, he last saw him with a pretty girl, leaving him sat at the bar alone. He didn’t hold this against him though, he knew he wasn’t always the best person to be around, especially in a place like this, but Dr Raynor kept telling him he ‘needed to reenter society and spend time with friends’. And unfortunately for him Wilson was one of the only people he could maybe consider a friend at the moment and who had been annoying him about coming out to this bar for a while, so here he was, drinking a beer that had no effect on him at the bar on his own and listening to the weird music of the 21st century playing in the background.

He was almost finished with his drink and ready to leave when you sat next to him, you leaned into him as if you knew him and your smile was kind, but he could see a slight panic in your eyes. Something was obviously wrong and you leaned slightly closer to kiss his cheek whilst whispering so quiet he almost missed it.

“Really sorry about this but there’s a creepy guy who won’t leave me alone can you quickly pretend you’re here with me?”

Before Bucky even had a chance to reply to you or react, a large man with a gruff face and the smell of alcohol on his breath appeared at your shoulder with a predatory look in his eyes. Bucky’s eyes didn’t leave the man as soon as he was in sight, so he felt more than saw you move closer to him and away from this man who was eyeing you like a piece of meat.

“Hey sweetheart you left before we finished our conversation, why don’t we finish it somewhere else?”

You opened your mouth as if you were gonna say something, but apparently thought better of it and instead turned to Bucky with pleading eyes. He knew he couldn’t make a scene as that would end badly for multiple people so he was now just trying to control his anger at this piece of shit human being before he beat him up.

Bucky put his hand on your shoulder to pull you a little closer and to try and comfort you a little , “She’s with me, so why don’t you leave?” He made sure his voice was firm and clear, hoping this man would get the idea to leave you alone.

The man looked at him, and his arm around you, and glared, apparently able to tell that Bucky wasn’t one to mess with.

The man looked at you again before huffing out a breath, giving one last glare at Bucky before turning around and stalking back into the crowd.

“Again, I am really sorry about that.” You shuffled away slightly to break the contact you had with him, turning to face him instead, and he couldn’t help but find himself almost missing the close contact.

“Was he bothering you for long?”

“Not really, it was only about 10 minutes but anytime I tried to show or say I wasn’t interested he didn’t seem to get the hint unfortunately.” You gave him a small smile as if to say ‘what can you do?’ But this was completely not fine and Bucky thought that surely it should be a bigger deal than you were making it out to be?

“Have you seen him at this bar before?”

“Um no, this is the first time I’ve actually been to this place, my friends said I should have some fun for once - but obviously that wasn’t what actually happened tonight”

“Oh, well I’m sorry even if it hasn’t got anything to do with me and honestly I don’t come out at all but my friend actually annoyed me into coming tonight before he disappeared on me.” He laughed, glad to see you smile slightly too.

It was clear you were much more comfortable now the creep was gone but you still weren’t at ease, fiddling with your ring on your thumb during the conversation.

“I really am thankful you helped me though, and if you’re not usually here I am glad you were tonight, not sure I want to think about what would have happened if you weren’t.”

“Well you don’t have to think about it.”

You looked up at him to give him a small smile, making proper eye contact with for the first time since you sat down.

“I do have one question though.” He asked, waiting for you to nod before he continued, “Why did you pick me to help you? I mean I’m happy to, it’s just there’s just plenty of other men here who would probably love to scare someone away from you.”

“You looked the most serious and not as drunk as everyone else, so I assumed you would be more reliable and-“

You hesitated slightly as if you were embarrassed before continuing, “And I guess you looked a little lonely and could do with some company.”

Bucky almost choked on his drink, he could admit the wasn’t the most social person but normally when people describe him its things like: mean, tired, cold and stuff like that - normally lonely wasn’t used.

“Oh shit was that rude? I’ll get going now.”

“No don’t worry there’s much worse things you could’ve said.”

“That’s good then, I wouldn’t want to insult my fake boyfriend on our first date.” You laughed, a proper laugh that Bucky couldn’t help but laugh with you, and despite barely knowing you, he would do anything to hear you laugh like that again.

“Are you still planning on heading out?”

“Yeah my bed is calling my name after this long day I think.”

“Do you feel safe walking on your own? Because as you said I’m very sober and it would be irresponsible if I didn’t make sure a lovely lady like you got home safe.”

“Wow a man of honour,” you smirked at him, “but yes if you don’t mind that would actually be great. On one condition though.”

“What condition?”

“You tell me your name, I can’t go around being protected by a man I don’t know the name of.”

“Bucky.”

Your smile grew a little wider and he absolutely loved seeing it, “Well Bucky, it’s nice to meet you, I’m y/n.”

You held out your hand for him to shake as you both stood up, and despite the warm feeling Bucky got in his chest at being in proximity to you, he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so stepped away. He held the door of the bar open for you as you left, and kept a small distance away from you the whole way to your apartment block, being a complete gentlemen, just like he was raised.

When the two of you were outside your apartment, he stood to the side whilst you fumbled with your keys, and when you were finally successful in opening the door you turned back to him, a nice smile on your face.

“Thanks again for all the help Bucky, you were a fantastic fake boyfriend and it was lovely to meet you.”

“Again it was no problem, and you weren’t too bad at being a fake girlfriend yourself doll.”

There was a slight blush on your cheeks as you looked at him one last time, “Goodnight Bucky.”

You didn’t wait for his response, instead just walking into your apartment, and Bucky found himself with an uncharacteristic grin on his face as he stood there, whispering “Goodnight y/n.” before walking away, hoping that he would bump into you again some day.

[ncitygirls]

eternal - jaemin x f reader

fluff, smut, vampire!jaemin, 2.2k

he had yet to utter a word since his confession, and neither had you, though you had tried piecing together a worthy response. he simply watched you as you watched him, your eyes focusing on each delicate ridge in his skin, admiring his nonexistent pores; how the thin slithers of light that broke through the poorly drawn curtain, shone on a bend from the ends of his bangs down and around his chin. a kind reminder of what you swear you have always known, but regret to have never questioned.

“jaemin?”

“my love?”

“have you always been this beautiful?’

he had to admit he was taken back. those are the first words you have said in a long while. they are your first words since he told you three minutes and twenty-five seconds ago - he was counting, not actively, but over time his mind has created room for his thinking to expand, to surpass humanity’s understanding of thought, and most times he welcomes it. but not at times such as these - where he knows he told you three minutes and twenty-five seconds ago, and your first words are in awe of him.

“i told you i am undead.. and that is what troubles you?”

“your beauty is far from troubling,” you retort, eyes still inspecting his face. jaemin’s mind wanders back to when he once pitied humans. how they thought what they saw was really seeing. victims of an already limited life, the human eye is only able to pick up a fraction of their sublime reality. yet the way your eyes traverse each of his features, as if to commit them to memory, he surely found a compelling reason to admit their eyes were not so lacking. “was it the bite that made you so handsome?”

“i wasn’t bitten,” he corrects, as the pads of your thumbs sweep over his cold knuckles, your touch casting a reverence over the scene. he lets out a pretty laugh at your assumption, the soft crease between your brows forming as he destroys your fictional understanding of his kind. “humans have always had a skewed understanding of our lore.”

“so your mother and father were vampires?”

“no.” it has been some time since he has had to explain vampiric lore to a human, but his mind retains his memory of it all the same. “it is not dissimilar to what humans call possession? or a spell? it is a combination of the two.”

“did it hurt?”

jaemin cannot help but melt at the notes of concern lacing your tone. it is his turn to pass his thumb along your knuckles before flipping your hand over, letting his finger trace a swirl in your palm, offering a soft shake of his head. “it makes one feel queasy, a consequence of the change in dietary needs.”

your hand stiffens beneath his touch as your eyes drop to examine them. he fears he has spoken out of turn, pushed the astonishingly pleasant conversation down a dark hole. jaemin once believed humans to be predictable, but you continue to challenge that. “is that why my invites to have you for dinner always go unanswered?”

“i knew that wounded you, angel.”

“it did no such thing!” his chin drops, eyes boring into you in a successful attempt to lure the truth out of you. he immediately softens when you exhale, in defeat of his gaze or distaste at your transparency, he does not know. jaemin would soften all the same. “i will admit, i did make assumptions to make sense of your refusal.”

“did you think i preferred not to visit?” you had never noticed the flecks of red in the perimeter of his irises until now. they glowed slightly, as if enraged, though you know not with you. “there are rules we must follow when entering a new space, silly, unchangable rules.” his frown deepens when you nod, always understanding even when you shouldn’t. “i apologise if I hurt you, angel.”

“hush now, you need not apologise.” you’re proven right when his eyes return to the perfect colour you remember them for: a golden swirl moving within the rich cocoa, shining only as the light hits it. relief floods him when he rests his forehead on your own. he grips your hips firmly, swaying you both as you call for him.

“jaemin, what is it you do eat?”

“pretty girls named y/n.” oh how he wished you would have laughed then, instead of him opening his eyes to find your horror stricken face. “i swear to you that was a joke. that was in poor taste, i am so sorry.” you find his apology hard to believe as his body shakes, shaking your whole frame along with him.

“do not,” you hit his arm once, “mock,” and a second time though ineffective, “me!”

he saves himself quickly, retreating to safety by putting an unrealistic amount of distance between you two in an inexplicable amount of time. when he abandoned you, you nearly collapse forward with the force you were using to hit him before catching yourself.

“come here.”

“i drink blood.” you did not particularly dislike his attempt to stay on topic, just the topic itself. you try to appear enlightened but you have always found it difficult to repress your repulsion. “i know you have no interest in the macabre.”

“blood is meant to be inside you.”

“i think it tastes great.” he quickly arrives in front of you, your open books and abandoned letters fluttering all over the room as his speed garners its own winds. his thumbs journey over the veins on your wrists, slowly trailing up your forearms. he only speaks again when he hooks his thumbs under your jaw, tilting your head to allow his teeth to graze over the column of your neck. “it is reminiscent of fruit. some blood is like grapefruit and lemon. while some are akin to grape, strawberries.”

“oh,” you sigh, heart slowing as his lips drag along the base of your throat. he pulls back, gazing longingly at your wonderment as you feel his mood swing. bitterness seeps into his eyes in how his taste for blood ironically remains the only provision of some kind of memory of flavour, of normality. “do you enjoy it?”

“blood?”

“being a vampire.” no one has ever asked him such a thing. is there anything to enjoy about eternal life? about reliving his youth, being relocated, remade, renewed over and over and over, for an eternity.

as he gazes down at you, he remembers with all the bad must come some good.

“not always,” he smiles knowingly, thinking of his friends. the lives they built for themselves over a combined millennia. it almost makes him retract saying that. “i do regret some things. like allowing haechan to convince us to help real witches free the falsely accused during the witch trials. only to later discover he had a wager on being able to free more than their coven could.” he loved the way your eyes followed along, he loved knowing he could finally share his life in its entirety with you. “i have a thousand reasons why i should hate it, but I cannot bring myself to.”

“why?” he will find a way to forgive himself for giving you a reason to ask. he will ensure you needn’t ask again.

“because,” he whispers into your mouth, his lips slipping between your own, fingers clasped behind your neck. “if i had died in 1625, i would not have had the honour of making your acquaintance.”

“this is hardly an acquaintance,” you remind him, counting his years in your head as he pulls you flush against him utilising less than a speck of his strength. “careful grandsire,” it tumbles from your lips as he licks against your mouth. “i am not sure a man even three hundred years your junior could make it through what you are starting.”

“you needn’t worry about me,’ he sighs, his groin rolling against your own, his fingers clinging to your breakable frame. “though i must confess, my eating pretty girls named y/n was not said solely in jest.” his fingers toy with your knickers, ice cold digits moving freely along the waistband. “in fact, i fear my sanity depends on it. might you be of some aid?”

“who am i to deny a man nearing his fourth century?” he begs himself not to laugh, if only not to kill the mood but more so to avoid dignifying your mockery. his laughter morphs quickly into pants, your hand slotted wickedly between his own and his groin. “how might i be of assistance to you?”

“just as you are,” he whispers, his dulled teeth passing dangerously along the shell of your ear. as a man of his years, patience isn’t something which he is in short supply. but even then, one grows tired of waiting, for coitus, for love, for you. he is quick to remove your hand, finding his own pacing as he presses you against the wall, your heat pulsing beneath his cock, practically leaking. “i forgot how pliant humans are,” it is wicked how he watches you, his fingers rolling your hardened nub betwixt their pads. you shudder at the sight of him, his golden eyes darkening in the sunlit room, his tongue passing over his sharpened teeth. he smirks as you hiss, his fingers pinching your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. his tongue rolls in time with his hips, running his clothed cock along your clothed folds. he is quickly reminded of his strength as his palm collects dust as it meets the wall with a thud, steadying himself as you whine deliciously, his name bleeding from your raw lips. “yes, angel?”

“i need you,” you breathe, gazing up at him as his lips capture yours. your tongues move in tandem, wrapping around the other in a hypnotic frisk. he swallows your whimpers as he lures them out of you. he sucks your tongue into his mouth, hands moving to your rear before lifting you from the ground. he makes little work of you, rendering you a quarter of your size. your ankles lock around his waist as he casts your knickers aside, hissing as the pad of his finger meets your folds.

“might i have a taste now?” he pleads, eyes burning a fiery amber, pure adoration hidden beneath. “please, angel?”

“take all of me, jaemin.” he holds you still, a metre from the ground as he kneels, his hands firm around your thighs before he lowers you over his mouth. his flat tongue licks long stripes up your cunt, tongue flicking along your hooded clit in his descent. he likens you to a spring, his soul knelt before you, preparing an offering to your fountain. he is ready to collect all you offer him, your essence pouring out onto his tongue, soaking his lips, slick down his chin. his eyes fall to a close at the sight of your dazed form, your eyes screwed shut in prayer, his lips puckering around the hood of your clit, the tip of his tongue rolling against the nerve. “jaemin, right there, please.”

he hums in accordance, his tongue circling your clit as your thighs shake on either side of his head. he smirks as you still, his middle and ring finger entering your warm cavern, forcing your hips to roll against his digits. he curves them slowly, pressing against your pink walls, bulging up against your stomach. “you are so fragile,” he says, lips bitten as he watches your body succumb to his touch. he leans closer to you, steadying you on his shoulders to free his hand. he presses his palm to your abdomen, hypnotised by the feeling of his own fingers inside you. letting his thumb drift down, he pulls up the skin hiding your clit, allowing his lips to pucker against the nub before he offers a hard suck. his tongue joins the fold, drinking you in as you let out a sharp cry, the pressure inside and out joining forces to send you over the edge. “when you’re ready, love, come.”

he can feel your skin burning up, see the sheen of sweat coating your entire body. “jaemin,” you continue to chase your high, but cling to the moment. you feel like your convulsions might snap your body in two. that pleasure such as this cannot exist innately, that only he can bestow it on you. you are proven right as you grow more frantic, his fingers rub against the spot inside you that he found with great ease, as his lips suck on your clitoris. the final straw is his gaze, you feel it and fall victim to it. his irises a bright, angelic white, the rim speckled in gold. one cast of your eyes on your lover and you snap.

there is no doubting that as jaemin gazes up at you, he sees glory eternal. he sees life. he sees an angel.

“come angel.”

and you do. jaemin’s simple command breaks a dam, summoning a flood of pleasure you are unsure you will survive. hot iron passes through your veins, lighting you from the inside out. he continues without thought, his lips sucking the pleasure out of you, his fingers still pounding into your swollen pussy. only when your fingers find his hair, pulling him away with a sharp tug does he concede, lowering you into his lap.

“hi,” he says after some time, watching you pant against the wall. “are you still with me?” he jests, palms gliding up and down your aching thighs.

you hum, gazing up at the golden orbs that you decide you mustn’t live without. much like his life, and much like your love. eternal. “always.”

[anonymousfiction211]

A plaything

Summary:

You attend a feast in honour of Prince Thor. You are bored and plan to leave. However, Loki has different plans.

Word count:

2.771 words

Warning:

Swearing and shameless smut

You looked around the room, trying to find some entertainment. But this party was the same as any other party, celebrating the return of one of the princes. The whole ballroom was decorated extravagant with silver cloths, red curtains and multiple chandeliers that were hanging from the ceiling. It was all dressed in the colours of Prince Thor. You always preferred the gold and dark green, which were Prince Loki’s colours. But Thor had returned home from a battle and apparently him not dying needed to be celebrated by every noble family. Including the noble family, you belonged too. You did not attend these parties very often, since your family stood very low in the hierarchy. And even if your family did get invited, your parents would often go themselves. But tonight, happened to be their anniversary, so you offered to go for them instead.  

The servants were currently clearing the last of the cutlery from the tables and pushing some tables around to make room for people to dance. You were still bored from the conversations you had to endure during dinner. It was always the same conversation, how other families were doing, if anything new happened (which was almost never) and praising the royal family for all they had done over the last time. You ordered another glass of wine, the open bar at these parties did make the whole thing slightly more bearable. Then you heard music playing and faced the dance floor to watch the opening dance. King Odin was dancing with his wife Frigga. After the dance ended more people made their way to the dance floor, while Odin and Frigga retreated. With that notion you decided to leave, when you had finished your drink. Since the king and queen left it would not be considered insulting to the royal family if you left early.

You started to down your drink. When your cup was empty you placed it back on the bar and gave the servant a genuine smile. Just when you turned around you heard him ask ‘Would you like another drink lady y/n?’. You turned back to decline the offer when you heard a low voice speaking ‘Yes she will, and I will have the same, please’. You annoyingly turned your head to see which guy had answered, when you saw Loki. Shit. You really wanted to go home but could not decline a prince. Argh.. just this one drink, which was already your fifth, stick to protocol, be polite and leave before you will do something stupid you thought. You quickly smiled at Loki ‘Thank you, my prince’. He gave you a quick smile back. ‘You are welcome, so what do you think of the celebration?’. You complemented the celebration, had the same sort of conversation you had with everybody else all night and drank your drink as fast as you could. When you finished your drink, you were about to excuse yourself and leave. That is when Loki extended his hand to you ‘Would you like to join me for a dance?’. The first thing you thought was I would rather do anything else right now, than dance with you. But you know you could not say that, so rather reluctantly you accepted his hand.

He led you to the dancefloor and he spinned and twirled you around. He did not say a word to you while you danced. He did keep his gaze on you the entire time. He moved gracefully and you started to admire some of his features. You were thankful when the dance ended, because now you finally had an opportunity to leave. ‘If you will excuse..’. But Loki cut you off and led you to a table with some snacks on it, and offered you one. Before you could finish it one of the servants had already brought the two of you a drink. At this point Loki was really getting on your nerves. You gave him one of your fakest smiles, hoping he will take the hint ‘My prince, it would be rude to deny your other guests to have the opportunity to talk to you tonight, it is already getting quite late and..’. He then cut you off again. ‘I find these events quite unbearable. Always the same dull conversations, nothing ever seems to happen. So, to get through them I like to find something to play with.’ You looked confused at him before saying ‘I am getting tired, I think I should leave early tonight’. He leaned a little closer to your ear and purred ‘You have been wanting to leave from the moment I saw you down your drink, but it can’t have my plaything leave early tonight’. He quickly took your hand and walked you over to the table where his brother was sitting with his friends. Before you could protest you heard him say ‘Thor, this is lady y/n, she is a little bored. Kindly take care of her, will you?’. And with that your evening was getting quite long. Thor made you play drinking games and told long stories about his battles. Every time you tried to leave Loki would suddenly show up with someone to talk to, dance with or with something to drink or eat. Every time he did you glared at him, which just made him smirk back at you. Bastard.

The evening would at least go on for another two hours, but you had far too much to drink. When Loki was nowhere to be seen you said goodbye to Thor and the rest of the table and left. You were relieved to be almost at the exit, but suddenly Loki appeared in front of you. To say he looked not amused, would be an understatement. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he growled. You took a step back, but he was already walking towards you. ‘I am going home, I wanted to leave for a very long time now. You’ve had your fun by torturing me all evening, now let me go home!’. Loki raised his hand and for a moment you thought he was going to slap you. Since you were being quite rude to royalty. Instead, he brushed your cheek with the back of his hand ‘But darling, you can’t leave until tomorrow.’ You sighed ‘And why not?’. He then looked at you with a dark look and grabbed your waist with both his hands ‘Because I am going to fuck you so hard you will not be able to walk until tomorrow.’ Hearing him say that in a lusty voice did something to you. Before you could answer you saw a green shimmer and you were not standing at the exit anymore.

He pulled you closer to him. He placed two of his fingers under your chin and made you look up at him. He closed the distant between your faces and his lips were now brushing yours. He did not break eye contact and his gaze softened a bit. You saw lust in his green eyes, and you swallowed in anticipation of what was to come. ‘May I?’ he asked. You nodded at him. He then pressed his lips against yours. Your lips move in sync with each other, like you have done this a hundred times before. He moved his hand from your chin to your neck to deepen the kiss. You felt his tongue against your lips, and you opened your mouth to let his tongue enter. Loki then started to kiss you more passionately, which made you moan. He broke the kiss and smirked at you. He put his hands on you butt and lifted you in one smooth motion. You squeaked a bit in surprise and instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. He started to walk with you and kiss your neck. The feeling of his lips on your skin made you breath faster. Then you felt his teeth sink into your flesh, just on the brink of pleasure and pain. You tightened his legs around him, making you feel his hardened cock through his pants.

He had walked you to his bed and laid you down on your back. He shimmered your clothes away and you lay naked before him. He took one of your nipples in his mouth and circled it with his tongue until it hardened. One of his hands was caressing the inside of your thighs. You quickly become a panting mess underneath him. He slipped one finger between your folds and felt how wet you already were. You moaned at the sensation. Loki suddenly stopped and looked deeply into your eyes. He takes his finger with your wetness on it in his mouth and started to suck it. The sight of him sucking his own finger made you tremble. You felt his knee lining up at your entrance putting a slight pressure on your clit. You let out a low moan and started to move your hips up and down, to create some friction. You grabbed his jacket and pulled it off. The fact that he was still fully clothed, was becoming frustrating. You desperately needed to feel him. But before you could undress him any further he grabbed your wrists with one of his hands, and pinned them above your head. He removed his knee and you whined at the loss of pressure on your clit. You felt your pussy throb, begging for attention, but Loki just grinned at you. ‘You’re an eager little thing, aren’t you? Look at my pants’. You looked down and saw a large wet stain at the part of his knee you rubbed your clit against. You started to blush.

Loki flicked his hand and you suddenly felt the touch of cool metal against your wrists. You looked up and saw your wrists handcuffed together. Attached to the handcuffs was a chain which was bound to the headboard of the bed. You heard him chuckle ‘I prefer to have both hands free, when I play with my toys’. Normally you would protest to any man who would do something like that without asking, but with Loki it was different. The fact that he was treating you like his personal toy to play with, was a real turn on for you. Loki moved to lay besides you. He had one hand supporting his head while his other hand was stroking your breasts. You felt your pussy throb harder and started to squirm at the feeling of his touch. He was watching how your body reacted to his touch. He slowly started to move his hand lower. ‘I must say that it was a pleasant surprise to see you tonight’. His hand was now on your hip slowly making circles. You felt the bedsheets underneath your pussy become damp. Your breaths were shallow and you mind was racing. You desperately needed relief. He moved his head to your ear, and his other hand grabbed your hair. He pulled on it slightly and you could feel his tongue stroking your earlobe ‘I noticed you a few feasts ago and ever since I saw you, I have not been able to put you out of my mind’. You moaned at the feeling of his tongue on your ear and bucked your hips in the hope he will touch your pussy. ‘I do admit that I tend to break my toys, but I am going to play with you for as long as I can’. He then put a finger on your clit and started to rub slow circles. He puts just enough pressure on it to feel him, but hardly enough to give you some form of relief. His touch was driving you crazy and you started to moan his name repeatedly. He removed his other hand from your hair and started to stroke your cheek.

Then there was a knock on the door. ‘Prince Loki?’. Loki looked annoyed and turned his face towards the door ‘Come in.’. A guard walked in and he froze for a moment before he regained his composure. Loki chuckled while he was still stroking circles around your clit. His other hand was brushing to your hair, like he was petting you. You could do nothing else than moan his name. You were hardly aware that there was a guard now watching you. ‘Ehm.. the feast is a- almost at an end and Prince Thor is requesting your presence to say goodbye to the remaining guests.’. Loki sighed and looked at you. Your eyes were closed and your whole body looked flushed and was moving ever so slightly. Loki saw just how desperate you were to come. ‘I’ll be there in five minutes’ Loki said to the guard. The guard then left as quickly as he could. You groaned ‘Please Loki, please. You can not do this to me, I need you’.

Loki pushed your legs open further and positioned his face right before your pussy. He hummed in approval. ‘I know darling, but I will not be gone long. Now you have been moaning my name so prettily, let us see if I can make you scream it’. Without a warning he pushed his tongue hard down on your clit and moved it up and down. Two of his fingers slipped easily inside of you and started to pump in and out of you. The wet sounds that were coming from this action sounded sinful to your ears. But all you could care about is the feeling of your orgasm building up inside of you. ‘I do only have 3 minutes left, so I need you to be a good girl and come for me. Now!’. The vibration of his words against your clit sends you over the edge and you screamed his name. His fingers started to pump slower and his tongue was now drawing slow long circles against your clit. He worked you through your intense orgasm and looked smugly at you, trembling, and still moaning his name softly. He brought his fingers to your mouth and you eagerly started to lick them clean. ‘Now, I will be gone for about 30 minutes.’. You looked at him with widened eyes. He then gave you a darkened look ‘But I’m far from done playing with you, yet.’

With his fingers now clean he stood up and grabbed his jacket, put it on and straightened the rest of his clothes. You started to tug at your handcuffs which made Loki chuckle. He then went to one of his cabinets, opened a drawer and pulled out a ball shaped like an egg. ‘You know what it is?’ You shook your head. He walked towards you and pushed the egg-shaped ball inside of you, which made you jolt. Then he showed you a remote in his hands. ‘Like I said, I will be back in 30 minutes. But you do know how I need something to play with during these tedious events.’ He pressed on a button and the egg-shaped ball started to vibrate. You gasped and started to squirm. Loki bent down to kiss you and you started to moan into the kiss. He then whispered in your ear ‘When I come back we’ll play some more before you break. In the meantime, you are not allowed to come until I get back. I want to watch as you come undone every time I let you. If you do come before I am back, I promise you that you are in for a rough night. Remember that right now, I am still going easy on you. Don’t worry the doors will be locked and no one else will be able to enter.’ 

He then stood up straight and started to walk towards the door. You were whimpering softly, trying to distract yourself. You were not sure if you could handle this vibration for so long, without coming. Plus, you did not know if you wanted to know what a rough night with Loki meant. The way he plays with your body was already hard to sustain. You heard him open the door and you looked at him. Just before he was through the door, he turned around to face you ‘Oh, one more thing darling..’ he shot you a wicked grin and you saw him push another button on the remote. The vibration increased, you let out a loud moan and arched your back. Already feeling your orgasm build up. ‘This is not even the highest setting’. And with that he left you to moan, squirm and wait until he gets be back.

[rebelwrites]

The one

Adam Ruzek x Reader

Today was the day you finally became Adam’s wife, the day you had both been waiting for.

“What if she’s got cold feet, what if she realises she doesn’t love me” Adam said pacing the hotel room “I can’t have 4 failed engagements I just can’t”

“Bro you need to calm your ass down before I punch you” Kevin laughed placing a hand on his shoulder “trust me Y/N is head over heels in love with you, you’ve been together what 4 years now and she still looks at you like you are her teenage crush. So calm down, take a breath and a shot”

“I told you not to let me drink” he sighed.

“Yeah but my man needs it right now” Kev laughed. “Tell you what how about I head over to Y/N’s room just to make sure things are okay?”

“You’d do that?” Adam asked knocking the shot back.

“Of course best man duties” Kev nodded before heading out the room.

“Does anyone know what’s happening today” Kevin smirked walking into your hotel room.

“Dude what are you doing here” you laughed.

“I’ve got to come have a shot with my favourite detective on her wedding day” he chuckled holding a bottle of whiskey. “Don’t Tell Ruz I said you was my favourite”

“Speaking of my rebel without a cause how’s he doing?” You asked as the make up artist finished off your makeup.

“I’m about 5 minutes away from punching him in the face to shut him up” he shrugged. “I swear he is gonna wear a hole in that floor”

“Well thank you for not punching him” you chuckled as Kevin poured a glass of whiskey “gimme that bottle” you said taking the bottle off Kevin and necking the amber liquid from the bottle.

“This is why you will always be my home girl, stood here in your wedding dress looking absolutely stunning chugging whiskey outta bottle” he smirked giving you a fist bump. “Don’t change, I still need my drinking buddy”

“Don’t plan on changing only plan on changing the last name” you winked.

“You need to go” Hailey scolded Kevin “now”

“I’m going I’m going” he chuckled walked out the room.

Once Kevin had gone everyone gathered round you as Hank poured a little something in everyone’s cup.

“I just want to say a few words before we head out” he smiled.

“Don’t you dare make me cry” you laughed pointing at him.

“No promises kiddo” he smirked “I just want to say it’s an honour you asked me to give you away today, you are one hell of a detective and I know you are going to make one hell of a wife and I think this goes without saying you deserve a medal for finally getting Ruzek to calm down. Now let’s get this show on the road”

“How is she?” Adam pretty much pounced on Kevin as he walked through the door.

“She is fine Ruz, she’s nearly ready and she looks amazing” he nodded “so stop worrying”

“What doesn’t look amazing is that tie bro” Antonio laughed walking over to Adam to fix the tie.

“Now let’s go get our boy married” Kevin grinned.

———

Adam couldn’t help but smile as thinking out loud started playing. You had both decided you didn’t want traditional.

“Bro” Kev said nudging him to turn around.

As soon as Adam laid eyes on you that was it the tears started. He didn’t think you could look more beautiful than you normally do but here you was proving him wrong yet again, because right now you looked like an angel in his eyes.

As you got closer you could see Adam’s cheeks glisten from the tears.

Hank kisses your cheek before he shook Adam’s hand.

“You look radiant baby” Adam whispered in your ear.

“Don’t look too bad yourself” you winked “have you been crying” you giggled as you gently dried his cheek with your finger.

“So we are here today to celebrate the love of Adam ruzek and Y/N Y/L/N. They have both written their own vows” the vicar smiled. “Adam”

“Y/N the first time I met you, you put me straight in my place, busted my balls right there on the spot.” He chuckled “I knew right then you were the one for me, the only one that would be able to handle the craziness because let’s face it baby you are just as bad as I am. You have always had my back, in and out of work even when things wasn’t easy you stood by my side. You have literally saved my life multiple times and even took a bullet for me. So I vow today to always love and protect you no matter what” Adam said squeezing your hands as you both had tears in your eyes.

“Adam I’m not going to lie the first time I met you, you got on my every last nerve and honestly thought you was a cocky little shit well I do still think that” you laughed “but you are my cocky little shit but I wouldn’t change anything about you because you are my rebel without a cause. Yes we have had our hardships and arguments that have cause the team to get well out of our way because let’s face it we both have a temper. But at the end of the day you are my rock and are my world and will always will be, no matter what we face in this life I know we will be fine because we will face it together. So I vow today to always love and protect you no matter what.” You said through tears.

“Adam do you take Y/N to be your wife, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect him/her, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him/her forevermore?”

“I do” Adam beamed sliding the ring on your finger.

“Y/N do you take Adam to be your husband, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect him/her, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him/her forevermore?”

“I do” you grinned as you slide the ring on Adam’s finger.

“Well I am honoured to pronounce you husband and wife, Adam you may now kiss your bride”

“Finally” Adam shouted holding his hands in the air causing everyone in the venue to burst out laughing and you just to roll your eyes at your idiot of a husband, before he moved closer to you placing on hand on your cheek whispering against your lips “Come ‘ere Mrs Ruzek”

[cower-before-power]

Lovers in D Minor

Summary: Gojo requests you play his favourite song. You can’t deny him anything.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

TW: Swearing, implied sexual content

Link to A03 here

A/N: I’m back with another fic starring everyone’s favourite sensei! Thank you to all who read, liked, and reblogged my first fic, you are amazing and it has given me the confidence to write more! Please excuse the shitty title, I was thinking of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony while writing. Please enjoy, sweet potatoes!

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“Play.”

His voice is soft, quiet, and yet the one word resonates with an unyielding command. You run your hands over the keys in front of you gently.

You have no desire to deny him. You never do. Your trust in him has been built up like an iron fortress; unbreakable, unyielding. You know he will never demand that which you are unwilling to give.

Many worship the Honoured One, but it is only you he will bestow his unwavering favour upon.

“What would you like to hear?”

A lone finger runs down your spine, tracing the knobs with a feather light touch. Such contrast to the rough and demanding hands that were on you not an hour earlier.

But that was your Gojo Satoru.

“My favourite, I think.” His finger reverses, then slips lazily down again. Back and forth, back and forth. Your nerves cry out; it’s not enough. Not tonight.

“I should have guessed,” you say, leaning back into his touch. His finger stops at the base of your spine and spreads out into his whole hand. It’s a lazy warmth, like slipping into a hot bath at the end of a long day.

It feels like home.

He laughs softly. “Am I becoming that predictable, sugar plum?”

“Never,” you grin, turning to look at him beside you. He’s pretty in a way that should be illegal, white hair and blue eyes and sharp features that would make angels wail in despair. Perhaps he is an angel, you muse. An angel fallen from grace, doomed to a fate of exorcising the world’s demons. Darkness wrapped in a sheen of glittering light, terrifying in his ethereal beauty.

The celestial being in question cups your neck with steel fingers and drags your face up to his. Your eyes flutter closed as his lips cover yours, smooth and saccharine.

You could write poetry about his mouth.

“Are you going to distract me the whole time?” You mumble between kisses, your arms already reaching up to snake around his neck.

“Probably,” his tongue lolls out to run along your bottom lip, slowly, teasingly. A kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your chin, then down, down, down the column of your throat.

“Sa-to-ru,” you drag out his name in a reedy whine as his grip on the back of your neck tightens. He hums in pleasure; if he has but one weakness, it’s the sound of his true name cascading off your lips.

“Again,” he sighs dreamily. Teeth scrape the hollow of your throat. Your skin suddenly feels too tight, too small.

“Satoru,” you whisper, and the rumbling purr from his chest has you trying to claw your way into his lap.

You wonder why it comes like this, some days. The desire. The need. Other days are normal, when the touch of his skin brings pleasant comfort and warm affection. Everyday feelings. But days like this, nights like this, it’s different. Nothing is quiet or gentle. Every brush of fingers burns, every press of lips stirs a beastly hunger that roils in your gut until you’re practically foaming at the mouth. To touch him. To taste him. To be lost in the myriad of feelings he plucks from the depths of you.

To slake the ravenous craving to devour and be devoured in return.

Your move into his lap is suddenly halted. You open your eyes to meet his sapphire ones, brimming with hazy lust and tender amusement. He slowly peels away from you, gently setting you back down on the bench beside him.

“You said you’d play.”

You huff. You’ll never understand how the damn bastard can turn it off and on like that.

He senses your mood, a Cheshire Cat grin spreading across his face.

“Greedy thing,” he murmurs, tapping your nose gently. “Don’t worry sugar plum, I’ll reward you when you’re finished.”

“You better,” you grumble, reaching for the binder of sheet music you keep beside the piano. You begin to flip through, your eyes watching for the piece you’re looking for.

“Still can’t believe you wrote me a love song,” he teases, letting his white head fall gently against yours. His arms wind naturally around your waist; he feels it too. The need to be close, to touch, to ground and anchor.

He’s just as starving for it as you are.

“I’m beginning to wish I never did,” you find what you’re looking for and spread it out on the stand. “Your already overinflated ego did not need to be fed.”

He nuzzles into your hair. “Silly, you’d write me a thousand love songs if you had the time. You’re obsessed with me.”

“Says the man who hasn’t let me out of his sight-or arms for that matter- all day.”

He squeezes you once, laughing. “Touché. It’s true I’ve fallen under whatever bewitching spell you’ve cast on me.” His lips press against your scalp. “And I couldn’t give a flying fuck about trying to get away.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning. “Well, duh. I’m quite the catch. Now shut up and let me play.”

He laughs again and falls silent. Your fingers stretch one, twice. And then you begin to play.

Sometimes trying to describe your love for him is difficult with mere words. There just weren’t enough of them capable of conveying the emotions he invokes in you. That’s why you took to your passion, your talent. What you couldn’t say in words, you’d say in song. In sweeping movements, lilting notes, heartfelt melodies. Your hands conveying what your heart cries out.

He hums along, the tune committed to memory. It’s no surprise; how many times has he asked you to play it? Too numerous to count.

He knows the way you share your love, your devotion to him. He knows words often stick themselves in your throat. But through the tinkling of keys he could feel what you were trying to say.

It’s what he says when he buys you too expensive presents, or kisses your forehead softly between classes, or drags you out of bed at one am to eat candy in your underwear.

I’m here, and I love you.

You finish with a flourish, the last notes hanging in the air like early morning mist. Quiet falls over the room. It’s just you and him and the heartbeats between you, softly thumping in time.

It’s perfect.

But......

“Satoru?”

“Yes?”

“.....my clothes won’t take themselves off.”

He snorts with laughter, and the soft romance of the moment disappears.

“Someone is neeeeeedy,” he sings, pinching your side. “You just can’t get enough of me, can you?”

You squirm away from his questing fingers but he holds you in place. “Don’t be mean! I always give you what you want, now give me what I want.” Your lips turn down into a pout.

He coos at you, leaning down to rub his nose playfully against yours. “Sugar plum, you know you’ve got me wrapped around those talented little fingers of yours. Have I ever denied you?”

He kisses you one, twice, three times- lazy, indulgent things that leave you whimpering as you cling to him.

“Please, Satoru.” You’ll beg. You’ll beg a hundred times over and you won’t feel any shame. There is no shame in wanting to be loved, to be treasured and cherished and worshipped the way you know he can.

He drags his lips over your jaw, chuckling darkly. “You want me to play you like you play that damn piano?” His teeth catch on your earlobe, tugging gently. “See what sweet music I can coax from you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, winding your fingers through his soft white hair. “Yes, yes, yes.”

He pulls back to grin at you, canines sharp and gleaming in the dim light.

“Then buckle up, sugar plum. Tonight, I’m writing a whole fucking symphony.”

[e-milieeee]

the enemy of my enemy (must be my ally)

Summary: When one of his akumas attacks Adrien and one of his classmates, Gabriel Agreste discovers that Marinette Dupain-Cheng would prove a very useful ally against Ladybug and Chat Noir. 

How had he not discovered sooner? But oh well—better late than never. Ladybug will never know what’s coming. 

Notes: from this post because everyone wanted me to write it. i warned y’all. feat. gabriel’s 2 functional brain cells. 

AO3 | Kofi

Gabriel Agreste isn’t past admitting his mistakes.

Most of them have involved Adrien, so he supposes that it’s time to pay attention to the trend. And all of those mistakes have involved his growing career as Hawkmoth—and, more specifically, the choices he makes for whom he akumatizes.

Lila Rossi, now known as Princess Perfect—seriously, what the hell was wrong with this girl? He’d given her the liberty of choosing her akuma name, but such a godawful name is a bad reflection on him as well—kicks down the door of the classroom.

He sees it all through Lila’s eyes, like he does with all the akumas. Doesn’t mean he’s particularly happy about the turnout of this particular akumatization.

“What are you doing?” Gabriel demands to her. “I want Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous! You’re going the wrong way.”

Relax. Lila’s voice drifts into his head. I need to take a little detour.

“What detour—” Oh. Oh, shit.

In the classroom, packing their bags, is his son and that Chinese girl with pigtails—Marinette. The one that Gabriel knows Lila Rossi intensely hates. The one that he doesn’t like either, because for some reason, his son is infatuated with her. It’s Marinette-this, Marinette-that these days, and Adrien just won’t stop gushing about her. Father, look at these designs! They’re Marinette’s. Father, look who’s on the news—it’s Marinette! Father, can you hire Marinette to work at Gabriel Brand?

Marinette, a real headache. Gabriel rubs his temples. Maybe it’s a good thing that Lila’s after her. Better to nip it in the bud before Adrien’s attachment becomes a real problem.

“Fine,” he grounds out to Lila. “But leave Ad—leave the blonde boy alone.”

Already ahead of you, Hawkie.

“Don’t call me that!”

She ignores him in favour of turning to the two victims. Adrien is standing in front of Marinette, arms spread in a protective stance, glaring at the akuma. For a couple moments, nobody speaks.

Then, Marinette, eyebrows furrowing, says, “You’re Lila, aren’t you. Seriously? What is this—your third akumatization? Fourth?”

“My name is Princess Perfect now,” Lila growls back. “Get out of my way, Adrien.”

Marinette literally gags. “Did Hawkmoth choose that name for you?”

“No, I didn’t,” Gabriel seethes. Unfortunately, none of them can hear him.

“Yes, he did,” Lila lies breezily. “But that’s not important. You think you’re such a hot shot, Marinette? You think you can take the spotlight from me without repercussions? I’m going to make sure everyone hates you and loves me, and you’ll learn your lesson for trying to cross me. After all, who can say no to Princess Perfect?”

Gabriel sighs through his nose. Are all teens this dramatic?

Apparently, they are. Betrayal comes from those closest to home, because it’s Adrien that holds up his arms even higher, still staring Lila down. “You’re going to have to go through me if you want to hurt her,” he promises. “Marinette, get out of here! Run!”

Oh, for heaven’s sake—

Two things happen at once. Lila darts towards them, her whip lashing out directly at Adrien. Gabriel swears under his breath—why isn’t Adrien moving out of the way? Why is he so intent on protecting that useless girl? “Lila!” he barks through the bond, but the akumatized girl is too far gone. “Touch him and I’ll make sure—”

Gabriel trails into dumbfounded silence when Marinette shoves Adrien aside, grabs the end of Lila’s whip, and tugs the weapon straight out of the girl’s hands.

“You’ve gone too far,” she growls in a tone so chilly that it even reaches him. “Adrien, get out of here! I can handle her.”

Lila’s own shock lasts for a couple of times before she regains some of her composure. “You?” she sneers. “Handle me? Why, you pathetic—”

Adrien chucks a pencil case at Lila. It hits her cheek, and she whirls on him, enraged. At the same time, Marinette darts away from the window and slides behind the large wooden desk at the front. Gabriel, still watching the scene unfold, scoffs. So for all her big talk, she’s still nothing but a coward.

“Stand down,” he commands Lila once more. “Don’t you dare touch Adrien—what the hell?”

Lila seems to have noticed the source of his bewilderment as well, but it’s far too late. From underneath the desk, Marinette has lifted the thing—the giant, wooden desk—onto her shoulders.

Gabriel’s positive he stops breathing.

“Wait—” Lila begins. He sees it all through her eyes: Marinette braces herself for a moment and then throws it—throws the desk that a grown man shouldn’t be able to lift—right at Lila.

She doesn’t stand a chance. Lila goes down in a crash, pinned under the weight of Ms. Bustier’s desk that this small, petite girl had somehow bench-pressed and then chucked.

As much as Lila struggles, she is unable to remove the desk from on top of her. Given that his akumas have enhanced strength and she’s still incapable of lifting it, just how strong is Marinette?

Said girl in question stalks over to Lila. She plants a foot firmly against the overturned side of the desk and looks down at the girl trapped underneath.

Gabriel is certain that somehow, impossible as it sounds, Marinette is staring right through Lila’s eyes, through their connection, and into his own. His body freezes. His jaw locks. And for the first time in a very, very long time, Gabriel Agreste is absolutely terrified.

“Next time you try something like this,” Marinette growls, leaning in, “I won’t let you off so easily.”

With that ominous note, she snatches the necklace off Lila’s neck and marches right out of the classroom.

Gabriel remains frozen for a couple more moments. He isn’t certain if he still remembers how to breathe.

It wasn’t Ladybug nor Chat Noir that had foiled this plan. No, it was Adrien Agreste’s classmate, a girl who had previously annoyed him, that had single handedly defeated an akuma and scared him absolutely shitless.

What. The. Fuck.

***

“Adrien,” Gabriel says over dinner. “You know that girl you always talk about? Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

His son looks up from his meal with a bright look on his face. Once upon a time, Gabriel would’ve been annoyed. Now, after reevaluating the girl, he comes to the conclusion that it’s best Adrien stays on Marinette’s good side. She’s probably more than capable of beating his son up.

“Yeah, Marinette?” Adrien echoes. “You know how there was an akuma attack today? Well, Marinette was actually there in the classroom with me when the akuma came for us.”

Gabriel is forced to play ignorant. “Oh? What happened?”

“Well, the akuma tried to attack us, and Marinette picked up a desk—you might find it hard to believe, and honestly I would’ve too if I hadn’t seen her do it—and threw it at the akuma. When Ladybug and Chat Noir finally showed up, there wasn’t even anything for them to do.”

Gabriel shifts in his seat. “That is… rather unbelievable."

Except he swears he can still feel the heat of Marinette’s glare, and is forced to accept that this is the reality he’s living in.

“Why did you ask about her, though, father?”

He snaps back into the present. “Huh?”

“Marinette—why did you ask about her? Wait, father, are you reconsidering hiring her? Did you finally look at the designs I sent you? This is amazing. I’m sure she’ll do amazing. Your stocks will rise. You’ll get more customers. Marinette’s basically a walking lucky charm—this will be the best decision you’ve ever made, father. I promise.”

He frowns at Adrien. “Don’t make preposterous suggestions. But yes— I am considering giving Marinette Dupain-Cheng a job at the company, perhaps an internship one of the senior designers. She’s very… talented.”

He thinks of the way she’d lifted the desk and flung it at Lila. Talented, indeed.

Perhaps talented enough to finally give him an edge against Ladybug and Chat Noir.

***

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is more than eager to come in for a so-called interview. Nathalie has done her digging on the girl: she’s made it pretty big quite a couple times already, in the fashion industry and has quite a few connections. Even if Gabriel’s motivations aren’t technically for the company, he has to admit that she has much future potential to tap into in the future. But for now, that’s not his goal.

She’s impeccably dressed when Nathalie leads her inside his study. Her eyes are positively shining when she beams at Gabriel. “Mr. Agreste!” Marinette chirps. “I’m so happy to be here. When Adrien told me you wanted to interview me for the job…this is such an amazing opportunity to be presented with, and I am so honoured.”

Gabriel exchanges a glance with Nathalie. She nods subtly.

“It’s my pleasure to meet you, Ms. Dupain-Cheng.” He rises from his desk and holds out his hand for her to shake. She does so.

It takes all of Gabriel’s self-control not to show the pain on his face when she grips his hand.

How the fuck is this girl so strong?

Thankfully, Marinette doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong. Gabriel draws back his hand and tucks it behind his back. It’s throbbing.

“So, Marinette.” He sits back down at his desk. Marinette is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. If she were any normal person, Gabriel might’ve snapped at her to settle down, but after that show with Lila yesterday, he decides that it’s for his own good not to get on her bad side. He’ll just have to channel all his patience—for self-preservation, really. “I understand that you’re interested in interning at my company?”

She nods excitedly. “I’ve been designing for years, Mr. Agreste—I’m aware that I have a lot to improve on—”

“What I have in mind for you—” Gabriel pauses, realizing that he’d interrupted her. Hurriedly, he gulps. “Never mind. Continue.”

“I’m aware that I have a lot to improve on but I’m a very quick learner! I promise I’ll do my very best to help you and your company.”

He nods. “That’s good to hear. For now, I’ll… I’ll arrange with Nathalie what we can assign you to do in the company. And I have another favour to ask of you, if it���s not too much.”

Marinette smiles. “Whatever it is, I’ll do my best to help you!”

Nathalie had warned him to be careful with Marinette—one wrong move and he could be ousted as Hawkmoth. He takes a deep breath. “I have become aware that there are some bad influences around my son in school. You are friends with Adrien, yes?”

“Yes, and… bad influences?” Marinette frowns, shifting her weight. “Oh, yeah, there’s one in particular. Actually, I’m not sure if you’re aware, Mr. Agreste, but I’m glad you brought it up. You know that akuma yesterday? That girl’s name was Lila Rossi. She’s been hanging around Adrien quite a bit these days, and ‘bad influence’ barely covers what she does. And—oh! When I confronted her once about making Adrien uncomfortable, she told me she had a ‘friend in a high place’ that was backing her up. I think you might want to look into that too, Mr. Agreste. It was pretty worrisome, to be honest.”

Gabriel’s mouth has gone dry. “I… yes. Yes, I shall look into that too.”

Marinette rolls her shoulders. “God, if I knew who they were, I’d throw them into the Seine. How dare they.” Then her eyes widen. “Sorry, Mr. Agreste! I was just… um, I was just talking to myself. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s perfectly alright,” Gabriel reassures immediately, although it doesn’t do much to ease the chill that is travelling up his spine. “Then it’s decided? Nathalie will give you her contact information—you can send her your resume just for formalities, and she will organize the rest. And… be sure to keep an eye on my son at school.”

“I will!” Marinette chirps, ever so chipper. Behind that attitude lies the strength to lift the desk he’s currently sitting and crush him. And much, much more.

Nathalie guides the girl away. Gabriel is unable to breathe fully until she leaves.

He has to calculate this well, because he can’t afford to lose a potential ally like Marinette Dupain-Cheng. He’s already thinking—perhaps she would do well with the Peacock Miraculous, or the Bee Miraculous, if he can get his hands on it again. If—if he can somehow convince Marinette to help him with his cause, all of his other plans don’t even need to go into action. Ladybug and Chat Noir will never see this coming.

Nathalie returns. “Sir, your face is rather pale,” she notes. “But may I ask what that was about? You were… unusually lenient today.”

Gabriel clears his throat and straightens in his seat. “Never mind me,” he dismisses. “But first, I need to contact Lila Rossi as soon as possible to cut off all ties. Let her know she’s fired.”

“Is this because…?”

He allows himself a small smile. “You’ll see soon, Nathalie,” he reassures. “We’ve finally got the upperhand in this fight.”

Notes: i lost brain cells writing it, and i’m sure y’all have lost brain cells reading it. 

Fics masterlist here! 

[sylvies-chen]

Can you do 64 or 67 for brettsey please?

Prompt 64 can be found here!!

67. “If you don’t want to talk about it then say so. Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.”

Matt should have seen this coming.

His mom's not exactly young. He doesn't know where she's been or how she's been doing these past few years, frankly. He's had no record of whether she's been staying healthy-- through no fault of his own, seeing as how his mom's always been less than reliable since getting out of prison. Hell, even before getting arrested she'd been letting him and Christie down in smaller ways.

So when he gets the call that Nancy Casey has passed away from a heart attack at the ripe age of 68, he thinks it's just one more way in which his mother has let him down; one more member of the Casey family carrying their overwhelming amount of secrets to the grave.

He should feel sad, he knows that, but all he feels is numbness and a slight annoyance at having to deal with the funeral and all her belongings.

Her belongings aren't actually all that numerous, he realizes soon enough, which he assumes is a perk of being so flakey. All he gets is a box of things. He doesn't know what things, exactly. He'd gone to her place, shoved everything he could find into a cardboard box without paying attention to any of it, and left before he had the change to boil over with rage at all the things she'd kept from him and Christie-- the apartment included.

He should book time off or something. Or maybe visit her grave. He hasn't been there since the funeral a week ago (at which he, Sylvie, and Christie had pretty much been the sole attendants), maybe it'd do him some good in theory. But right now, every normal way of grieving flies out the door for him. He feels himself reverting back to the Casey family tradition: internalizing your feelings and keeping them secret until the day you die. Literally. It's not fun, not pleasant, and certainly not healthy. But in some weird way, it feels like his own way of honouring his mother, so he doesn't fight it. He should, but he doesn't.

Until Sylvie notices, and manages to tear down his walls in one fowl, beautifully agonizing swoop.

She picks up on it pretty quickly. He drifts off a lot during shift, he looks even more serious than usual, and he refuses to talk about it all that much whenever she asks how he's feeling-- which isn't for lack of trying, but how the hell can he put every complex little emotion he's feeling into words? Doing that will take time.

She's over to the loft one night, petting gently at his hair with her legs sprawled across his lap as they mindlessly watch TV, when she notices the box of his mom's things collecting dust by the by the basketball machine. Stella and Severide are out and Sylvie knows he's not paying attention to what's on anyway, so she turns the TV off. It manages to get his attention and he looks to her, confused.

Her attention isn't on him though, only on the box. Its flaps are taped shut at the top, his mom's name in black sharpie fading slowly. "You still haven't opened the box of your mom’s stuff?"

"No," he admits.

“Matt…” she sighs, taking her legs off his lap to sit upright on the couch. “You’ve been retreating into yourself ever since your mom passed away. Please don’t shut me out. I’m here, you know that, right?”

“I do. But Sylvie, I’m fine,” he insists. “My mom knew exactly what she wanted in life once she got out of prison and I wasn’t exaclty a part of that. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her, I probably don’t know half of what’s in that box anyway. She hid her new life from me and Christie. She’s just next in a long line of people in my family who’ve taken their secrets to the grave, that’s all.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it then say so. Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.”

Her tone is sympathetic but has a slight edge to it. She wants him to open up, he knows that. That’s, along with the surprising frustration in her eye, is enough to make Matt want to. So he tries.

“I want to,” he assures her. “But there’s nothing to say. She was gone before, and she’s gone now. It’s just more permanent now.”

“But don’t you think opening that box will give you some— I don’t know… closure?”

“I know it probably will, but I've been busy with contracting work and the firehouse has been busy and... I don't know, it just slipped my mind."

She gives him a look as if to say she doesn't buy it for a second, only it turns quickly into a look of sympathy. Because it always does. Sylvie, through thick and thin, good and bad, just always understands him. That goes both ways, which makes it even better, but it also means he knows exactly what she's thinking right now.

"What's keeping you from doing it now then?"

"Now?" His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his arm stretching out against the back edge of the couch and rubbing at her far shoulder. "Well for one, I'm having a relaxing night with you, and I'd rather not ruin that with memories of my less than reliable mother. And second, I just... I'm...."

Matt finds himself choking on his words, unable to admit to himself the one word he's looking for. He doesn’t know where this sudden seriousness comes from, this abrupt inability to keep things in. It’s like an old habit, and normally those die hard. Except Sylvie’s lifting a gentle hand to caress his face, is giving him that warm and comforting look, and he knows exactly why it’s hard.

It’s hard because it’s her. It’s Sylvie, and trying to internalize things around her at this point is pointless— even if he wanted to. And he doesn’t want to. He’s stripped of all his walls when he’s around her and honestly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Scared?” She finishes his sentence for him, giving him an expectant look.

He nods, because yes. Matt Casey, a firefighter who’s faced blazing fires and near-death experiences, is scared of opening a tiny little box. It takes a lot for him to admit that but he’s with her, which makes it ten times easier. “Yeah,” he confirms. “I know it sounds silly, but I can’t bring myself to look at all the things from her life that she left me and Christie out of. I’m scared I’ll look in there and realize just how much of a stranger she was to me— and of how much I miss her anyway.”

Sylvie exhales quietly, eyeing him achingly for a moment while she gnaws at her lip the way she only does when she’s thinking hard. Then, she gives his knee a comforting squeeze before standing up. He shifts on the couch, elbows moving to his knees as he scrunches his brow in a pensive and painful train of thought of his own. He thinks Sylvie is just getting a glass of water or a tissue or something else, honestly. But when he looks up from his brooding, he sees her over by the basketball machine, picking up the box and bringing it over.

“Here,” she says, placing it on the table in front of them and sitting back down in her spot next to him. Their legs press together, leaving no space between them on the couch.

“No,” he shakes his head as he responds. “No, I can’t do it.”

“You can,” Sylvie assures him. “We can do it. Together. You don’t have to go through any of this alone, Matt. So if you have to sit here for a minute before opening it, or ten minutes, or an hour even, then you can do that. I’ll be here the entire time.”

Her eyes twinkle kindly at him and Matt swears, in that moment, that he’s the luckiest man alive. Something about everything she just told him strikes him harder than usual, acting as a sharp and wonderful reminder that they’re meant for each other.

“I am so in love with you,” he utters softly.

Sylvie lets out a quiet giggle, moving to hold his hand and lace their fingers together. “I love you too.”

She presses a tender kiss to his cheek as he sucks in a sharp breath, his attention now turning to the box in front of them. The box looks back at him, almost as if challenging him. Only now, miraculously, it seems more manageable to him. It’s still scary, still carries a lot of emotional weight for Matt. But he feels Sylvie’s hand in his and it gives him the strength to do this.

He lets go of Sylvie’s hand for a moment to tear the flaps of the box open. His hand finds hers again as soon as its done, relying on her for more strength as he moves to peer inside the box.

His heart stops.

With his spare hand, he pulls out the first thing in the box, at the very top— the very thing that made his heart stop. Nothing else in the box matters now, he thinks. Because sitting there, in the palm of his hand, is a picture of him, Christie, and his mom. Nancy Casey sits in the center of the picture, with Matt and Christie at her sides. He remembers the day well; it was his fourteenth birthday, after all. There’s a cake in front of them in the picture to prove it. Matt doesn’t ever remember looking and feeling so young. Admittedly, he doesn’t remember being that happy around his family either. Normally, birthdays were sort of a mess for him, a constant struggle of battling with his father over how they should celebrate it that alwaus left Matt grumpy and hurt. But in the picture, his mom’s hand is tickling his side, as well as Christie’s, and the moment captures the exact moment that he and Christie reflexively lean into her chest from the laughter. His mom’s smile is bright and wide— something he rarely saw around his household.

They were happy once. They were a family, no matter how messed up everything got between them. Maybe Nancy Casey wasn’t such a stranger to him after all. That fact alone sends those million complicated little emotions swirling around in his chest.

Only this time, he doesn’t bury them. This time, they all come pouring out at once and the dam breaks. He doesn’t know when the tears started, but they flow now with a painful ease.

Sylvie lets go of his hand and pulls him in, holding onto him tight and close as his head rests on her chest. He feels tears of her own drip on the back of his head as she strokes his hair gently. He so rarely cries like this and yet now that he’s started— now that he has someone like Sylvie who lets him be vulnerable— he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop.

Only she tightens his grip on him, whispers soothing hushes and gentle reassurances that everything will be okay, and he knows that he’ll stop soon enough.

[write-ur-wrongs]

Thank you sweet anon for your request!! Again, I didn’t fully proof-read this bad boy so please forgive the errors! I hope you enjoy some angry Jealous!Geralt!

A/N Request: Geralt meeting your ex who thinks that you're still together/or tries to get you back in front of geralt?

The great hall was alive with royals and nobility alike. Laughter and chatter mingled easily with the sound of the band’s lively jig and the soft tinkering of fine cutlery.

The hosts had expected you and Geralt to make an appearance at dusk, but neither of you were particularly fond of all the fuss royalty liked to put up, so it wasn’t until long past sunset that you joined the party. Jaskier on the other hand, was overjoyed at the prospect of attending such an illustrious affair. He’d put up a fuss around noon and insisted he be allowed to take Roach so that he could arrive in time to make a strong impression with all in attendance. Of course, Geralt had refused, so he had gone off on foot, strutting and sighing dramatically.

Now, as you and Geralt did your best to navigate the already flushed crowd, you found yourself wishing you’d arrived sooner. It was easier to avoid people when they were being stifled by a sobering social awkwardness; after hours of ales and fine wine, however, people seemed to get a little too comfortable for your liking.

“I hate these ridiculous evenings,” Geralt grumbled, holding his arms close to his body uncomfortably.

“Maybe if we saved less lives,” you said, biting back a smile, “they’d be less inclined to insist we attend.”

Geralt only responded with a grunt and a roll of his eyes, which made you laugh lightly as you looped your arm through his and led him deeper into the crowd.

“C’mon love,” you said, a slight tease to your tone, “let’s find the free food and drink we were promised, yeah?”  

You laughed again as he fought back a smile. “Atta boy Geralt, don’t smile too much or you’ll ruin your reputation as the big bad wolf.”  

“Will you shut up,” he muttered, handing you a goblet of wine.

“I don’t think I will,” you said downing the wine in one go, “and could you hand me an ale?”

“I don’t think I will,” he teased, kissing your temple lightly before handing you his mug to share. You take a slow sip, your eyes twinkling as you held Geralt’s gaze, already feeling the liquor warming you from the inside. You hand him back his drink and kiss him lightly in thanks.

“Do you want to –”

You were both pulled away from your conversation by a loud clang from across the room. Geralt furrowed his brows and turned towards the sound quickly, untangling his arm from yours before reaching for his sword. He immediately relaxed as the familiar shouts and accusations resounded through the hall.

You collectively sighed your frustration as you saw Jaskier get chased into a corner by an angry nobleman; no doubt his latest conquest’s husband, who was not quite as pleased to hear the bard’s dulcet tones.

“It’s your turn,” Geralt said, downing his ale before reaching for a second helping.

“I don’t think so! I’m the one who saved him from that fisherman at the last village! It’s your turn,” you said, poking him in the chest before stealing his mug and holding it away from him.

“Actually,” he said, his low gravelly voice reverberating through you as he leaned across your body to grab his drink from your hand, “it was my turn at the last village, but you just couldn’t help yourself and jumped in to save the day. Rules are rules my dove; it’s your turn.”

You scoffed incredulously at his nerve, but shook your head in resignation; he was right after all, the rules you outlined were clear and the cycling of turns was strict.

“Well fuck. I’m taking this ale though,” you said, clapping him on the shoulder before stalking off towards the commotion.

Geralt chuckled lowly and leaned against a marble pillar, marveling at the way you made your way through the crowd. A wandering waiter came by and offered him another ale which he accepts with a polite smile, not taking his eyes off you.

He loved watching you de-escalate social situations. Sometimes it was comforting to know that he wasn’t the only one who just melted when you spoke to them directly – you were effortlessly charming and completely disarming. You once managed to convince a band of attacking thieves to stand down so efficiently that by the end of the night, they ended up joining you for dinner around the fire. Yes, Geralt was the professional when it came to handling monsters, but you were the people person of the group.

Watching you now was no exception. Your body language, the way your warm smiled reached your eyes with ease, how smoothly you managed put yourself between Jaskier and the furious man; it was impressive to say the least.

Unfortunately, his attention was pulled away from you suddenly.

“I can’t believe Y/N is here tonight, I thought I’d never see her again!”

At the sound of your name, Geralt whipped his head in the direction of the speaker, cat-like eyes scanning the crowd swiftly.

“Yeah, the very same Y/N I’ve told you about. An amazing lay, I swear it!”

The man in question was holding court half a dozen other knights; they kept snickering and looking off at you in turns. They were teasing him, egging him on for details.

“She’s not as sweet as she looks,” the man stated confidently, “don’t let that smile fool you gentlemen. The last time I took her was in an alley! The little whore was mad for it – couldn’t wait for it, needed it right there and then.”

Geralt was fuming.

He pushed his way through the crowd with great force and little care. He was worried about your honour. Your reputation in the courts – that was all. That was enough to explain the way rage seethed through him and the strange urge to be sick that was hitting him in waves. He was concerned for you as a partner and a friend.

He wasn’t jealous.

“Gods her skin… smelled so good, felt even better… I’m getting her back tonight gents,” he boasted, puffing out his chest.

“You don’t have a chance,” said the knight closest to the bastard bragging about shagging you, “it’s been ages since you’ve last seen each other, and if she’s as good as you say, she definitely found someone new.”

Damn right, Geralt thought furiously, swallowing the bile bubbling at the back of his throat.

“No, no, believe me the way she mewled and screamed for me? She’ll do more than remember,” he said, disgusting confidence dripping off every word, “she’ll beg to have me back.”

You’ll beg for mercy when I crush your fucking skull you pathetic –

His murderous march was abruptly interrupted by Jaskier. The bard cut in front of him and planted himself squarely before him, chattering on incomprehensibly.

Geralt’s eyes were bugging out in panic as he watched the bastard strut confidently towards you. He tried to push past Jaskier but the bard was quick to match him in posture.

“Look I know you’re upset with me for ruining your evening but she came after me,” he insisted, “I mean I can’t blame her the song his perhaps my most romantic sonnet. Speaking of my writing – Geralt can you look at me when I am sharing my musings with you, please? Thank you – as I was saying, Y/N inspired me tonight to write this song –”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, “move!”

“Wha – why?” Jaskier pivoted on the spot – keeping Geralt’s path blocked – as he sought the source of his friends’ fury. When he saw that you were speaking politely to some knight he scoffed loudly before turning back.

“Oh-ho, no,” he laughed, “you’re jealous of that oaf? Geralt, seriously?”

“I am not jealous,” he spat, only able to look at Jaskier for a moment before his glare shot back up towards you.

“She’s just being polite! Seriously you always assume the worst in people, Geralt, it’s sad.”

“I see people as they are,” he muttered, watching closely as the knight took a half-step towards you, he let out a menacing growl when you didn’t step backwards. “For what they are.”

“Okay then why can’t you see that’s just some poor sap who, I don’t know, maybe wants to thank Y/N for her help in saving this kingdom.”

“Shut up, will you? I’m trying to hear what they’re saying.”

“You don’t need a Witchers’ hearing to know what’s happening over there,” he brambled on putting on voices as he acted out the conversation, “’Hi I’m Y/N’, ‘Hi I’m an unimportant but very grateful knight, pleased to meet you blah blah blah…”

“Fuck, Jaskier, shut UP –” he stopped himself when he heard your laugh, the deep full laugh you normally reserved for him.

Jaskier heard your laugh too, and turned his head to double check he’d heard right. When he saw the familiar twinkle in your eye, he looked Geralt with wide eyes.

“They know each other?” he asked.

“They,” he started, struggling to get the words out, “t-they knew each other.”

“Wait you don’t mean,” Jaskier started, connecting the dots, “that they knew each other intimately?” He wagged his fingers suggestively as he said the last word.

When Geralt’s only reply was a low, seething hum, Jaskier whistled lowly before shaking his head.

“Well that explains,” he waved his hands vaguely at Geralt, “this reaction.”

Geralt was about to shove the bard aside when he saw you waving him over. You were smiling widely as you waved, but it didn’t reach your eyes. He cleared his throat and pushed Jaskier lightly before charging towards you with the bard in tow.

“Ah, finally!” you exclaimed, swiftly wrapping your arms around his bicep, pulling him close, “Geralt, I want you to meet an old friend of mine, Hoeck. Hoeck this is Geralt, my partner,” as you spoke, you moved to loop his arm around your waist, “and this is Jaskier, he’s responsible for the wonderful music tonight.”

“The White Wolf,” said Hoek, sizing Geralt up, “wow - what an honour.”

He hummed in acknowledgement and took the knight’s hand in a tight grip, feeling immense satisfaction watching the man wince.

“And -erm, thank you sir Jaskier, for the wonderful music,” he said, trying and failing to subtly rub at his hand.

“Thank you, good sir. I speaking of, I should get back out there.” He shot you and Geralt a look and swung his lute around his back before strumming a few notes. “If you’ll excuse me.”

You all nodded to him as he strode off, beckoning the band to join him.

An awkward silence settled over the three of you. Geralt was clearly seething as he held your waist in a tighter grasp than necessary. After a beat, you shot Hoek a tight-lipped smile and made up some excuse about needing to say hello to the king and queen before the night came to a close.

“Ah certainly,” he said, disappointment obvious, “well if you ever find yourself in need of company –”

“I won’t,” you said quickly.

“She won’t,” Geralt growled, his deep voice overlapping with yours.

At that, the knight swallowed thickly and walked back towards his group with tail between his legs and his hand held close to his chest.

Once alone, you turned in Geralt’s arms and looked up at his sour face accusingly.

“Why did it take you so long to come rescue me!” you said, tugging playfully at his hair.

“Didn’t look like you wanted to be saved,” he said lowly, eyes still alight with jealousy, “and Jaskier got in my way.”

“That’s a shit excuse and a weak lie. He was all over me! It took all I had not to rip the bastard’s arms off!” you said, a nervous laugh bubbling out of you. “Gods he has some nerve.”

“Hm,” he hissed, “you’re right about that.”

“Geralt,” you looked up at him carefully and gently caressed the crease between his brows, “this is more than jealousy. What’s going on?”

Geralt hesitated before relaxing his face into your hand and took a small sigh. “It’s nothing. And I’m not jealous.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, “Can you look at me? Please?”

Reluctantly, he brought his eyes down to meet yours.

“Thank you,” you said, cupping his face before moving your hands to rest on his chest, “can you talk to me?”

“Don’t be patronizing,” he warned.

“Don’t be obstinate,” you countered.

Geralt rolled his eyes at you before pulling you closer to him. “Maybe I was a little jealous, and maybe,” he sighed deeply, “I was a little worried.”

“Geralt,” you started, your heart breaking at the sight of him, “you have nothing to worry about when it comes to us. I need you to know that.”

“I do,” he said quietly, “but the way he was talking about you – knowing he had been with you in that way...” Geralt stopped himself as he felt his anger come roaring back at the memory. “I wanted to kill him.”

“To be honest, I wouldn’t have been upset with you if you had,” you said, jokingly, trying to lighten the mood a little. Your time with Hoek was beyond brief; he was nice enough at first but quickly he became aggressive and possessive. You couldn’t help but cringe when you looked back on your time together and you hated that your beloved witcher was letting this get to him.

“Oh, Geralt,” you murmured when you realized he wasn’t letting up, “I’m yours. Completely and unwaveringly yours.” You kissed his forehead, then his nose, and finally his lips.

He kissed you back slowly at first, but his kiss deepened as you leaned into him. Geralt pulled away just a little and rested his forehead against yours.

“Y/N… I’m – I love you so much…” he whispered, “it’s just… the things he said about you –” he started, hating himself for needing to hear your side of the story.

“Either untrue or exaggerated, that I can promise.”

“Something about an alley…?” Geralt asked, holding his breath.

“Oh ew! That was a terrible night,” you shuddered, “he was so insistent! Wouldn’t take no for an answer – Wait, what was he saying about it? Gods, maybe I’ll kill him.” Anger and humiliation burned at the back of your throat.

Seeing your visceral reaction, Geralt was immediately overcome by feelings of guilt, for making you relive the memory, relief, that your reaction was so negative, and rage, knowing that not only did this pompous ass make forceful advances on you but he always lied about it to a crowd.

Feeling the intensity of your anger radiating off you, Geralt was about to suggest that the two of you left before you did anything you’d regret when Jaskier came running through the crowd shouting that it was time to leave.

You took off running behind the bard, holding Geralt’s hand tightly as you raced down the castle’s corridors.

“Why are we running?” you shouted, a little breathless.

“I might have added a little something to our charming friend’s drink, and he might be having a very intense negative reaction to it!” he said over his shoulder.

“Oh fuck,” you breathed through fits of laughter, “Jaskier!”

“He’ll be fine! Eventually!” he added, he turned and ran backwards so he could shoot you a wink before adding, “No one messes with our girl, right Geralt?”

Geralt rolled his eyes at his friend before he ran up behind you and scooped you up bridal-style – all without breaking his stride.

“Damn right,” he said, smiling widely at Jaskier before planting a quick kiss to your temple.

[jimmygibbsjrrr]

What are your favorite voice lines for each survivor and why? (for example, I die when Nick says "you are the first three people in the world I have ever trusted")

I think I have one for everyone (or at least, one picked outta a few favourites) but I really struggled for a coupla them lol

I know and love a lot of these lines because I play on a lovely modded server where a lot of people use voice mods, and I've heard a lot of these lines from the players there, so if they seem random or you've never heard them before that's why! a lot of em are one-off saferoom lines, or dialogue dependent on doing something specific with a certain character. that's also why I seem to gravitate towards the funny one-liners, but there's some more serious/story-related ones here too

also this post ended up being so fucking long! sorry about that! I put a cut in the middle so it's easier to scroll past

Louis:

Louis: "But you know, as long as I have a Molotov I can make a firewall! Get it Francis? A firewall?"

Louis is my favourite and he's got so many banging lines so you'd think this one would be hard for me to choose, but I had to go with this one! the line's originally from The Sacrifice but it's a favourite for Louis players with voice mods. thanks to that, I've got a lotta good memories associated with it from that modded server I talked about. first time I heard it I genuinely laughed because the punchline being that funny caught me off guard. the joke is adorable, very fitting for his character, and the reactions are priceless:

Zoey: "Oh, boooo." Francis: "You're such a nerd."

honourable mention to any conversation about Bill being old because that shit's funny every time

Francis:

Francis: "Groovy." Louis/Zoey: [Short laugh] Francis: "What's so funny? It is groovy."

alternatively:

Francis: "Groovy." Zoey: "[Imitating] Groovy." Francis: "A-FRICKIN'-men."

honestly could have picked any line for Francis because he's so funny but this one is the one that makes me laugh most consistently. that's. that's it really. I just think it's funny. he says this when he picks up an auto shotgun

honourable mention to when he thinks Riverside is in Canada, and any line where he calls Louis 'Louie' because I'm a Frouis shipper and I read into that as a cute endearing nickname :)

Zoey:

Zoey: "Sorry. I can't lower the bridge." Nick: "That's terrific, cupcake. Look, is there a man up there we can talk to?" Zoey: "Oh, boo-hoo, I don't know what to do. Go to hell, Colonel Sanders!"

most of Zoey's funny lines are parts of other running jokes, references that I don't get or very tied to the context of the campaign, so it was actually kinda hard to pick one. I love all of her lines as well which didn't make it easier. but this one has stuck out to me since I first played The Passing because it's brilliant. Nick deserves every scathing insult he gets in that campaign <3

honourable mention to basically all her other lines. especially the ones in The Sacrifice because they cut DEEP her voice actress really went for it christ it hurts

DIShonourable mention to her death scream it's so goddamn LONG and the many hours I've sunk into Tank Challenge have left me hating it with a passion, stop screaming at me I'm doing my best

Bill:

Zoey: "You think one day it's all just gonna go back to normal?" Bill: "I'll see peace back on earth if I gotta murder every one of these bastards with my bare goddamn hands."

I think this line is just a great example of Bill's character really, and actually prompts an interesting train of thought as to how his hopes for the future shifted from No Mercy to The Sacrifice; originally, they seemed much more aligned with Zoey's, possibly part of the reason she felt so betrayed later. also it just sounds cool. it's from the hospital elevator in No Mercy.

honourable mention to this cut line of Bill pickin up an incapped survivor because I think it's really sweet:

Bill: "Bein' brave doesn't mean you're not scared. It means you're scared as hell, and then you pick up the shotgun anyway."

Left 4 Dead 2 survivors under the cut:

Ellis:

Ellis: "If the laws of nature would allow it, I would bear that man's children."

it really couldn't be anything else. I mean, it could, because everything that comes outta this guy's mouth is funny, but I cannot believe this line is real. I love it. as y'all probably know this one's from Dead Center.

honourable mention to every Keith story, and all of his 'Taunt' and 'Argh' lines from the voicewheel. seriously my favourite part of this character is his lines we could be here all day.

Nick:

Nick: "I am breathing shit air into my lungs. It is being absorbed into my bloodstream. I am literally full of shit."

does this make me immature? perhaps. again, I really struggled to pick for Nick, but like many others on the list my reasoning is just that I find this one funny. he sounds so disgusted.

honourable mention to all of his whining about his suit, mostly because the others' responses are golden. and obviously his swearing. because again, I'm immature.

Rochelle:

Rochelle: "Axe me a question, I dare you."

I have such a weakness for bad jokes. first Louis's firewall joke, now this. it's just the way she says it I think. wow my sense of humour is fucked. this one's a possible voice line for when Rochelle picks up a fire axe

honourable mention to all of the funny things she says when she's on low HP, and "Dibbs on Gibbs!" when she sees an infected Jimmy Gibbs Jr.

Coach:

Coach: "I find a Burger Tank in this place? I'm-a be a one-man cheeseburger apocalypse." Ellis: "Well, Coach? I aim to let you."

I hear this line every time I play Dark Carnival - which, considering how much the playerbase loves Dark Carnival, is a lot - and it just makes me smile, especially since they re-added the previously cut line from Ellis in The Last Stand update. also, it reminds me of my first introduction to the L4D2 characters, "Steamed Hams but it's Coach and Nick", which is a masterpiece of video.

honourable mention to his opening line from the trailer, which sets the tone and introduces the character brilliantly, and would have been a great first introduction if my real first introduction hadn't been a Steamed Hams meme.

this post took a surprising amount of time and effort. holy shit. you're welcome ig lmao

[sirensmojo]

"KINDRED", 4 - Thomas Shelby x Reader.

Warnings: Swearing, romance, violence, guns, drama, slight smut(“slight”?)

Word Count: 5k+

AN: When it’s a reader and Tommy scene, it’s Tommy POV.

❰ ​Previous Chapter

Tommy leaned backwards on his desk chair, a cigarette stuck in between his index and middle fingers. He was looking at the ceiling as if its colour brought to him answers to the multiple questions that had been clouding his mind lately.

Since the day he and Y/N kissed, he noticed she had been avoiding him. She didn’t even send him the weekly book she usually dropped at the office.

He didn’t understand her, and each time he tried to put back together the pieces to get a clear view of her character, the memories of the smell of her hair brought him somewhere else. And whenever he would dare to close his eyes too long, he would taste her lips again.

Even if she chose to stay away from him, he entered her world once and appreciated it so greatly it had printed into his spirits, like a hand in wet cement.

He allowed himself to shift his thoughts to Mosley from time to time, the d-day was approaching and with it, the time he’ll take the lead of the British fascist party.

(...)

The only way Lizzie found to see her husband these days was to come back in business as Tommy’s secretary. He told her she wouldn’t have to work when they got their daughter, Ruby, but he was rarely home, and when he was, his mind was elsewhere.

Even after promising to let her in sometimes, she struggled the most to read him, but despite all, she was deeply in love with him. She had to make the effort and reach for him.

He didn’t agree with her taking back her job at first and she knew exactly why, as being responsible for her having a baby, he had to take care of her, at least he felt like he did. He was undeniably a murderer, cut-throat gangster, but he had convictions and rules to stick to.

This morning began as normal as any other for the Shelby company limited, Lizzie was occupied with papers as Tommy locked himself in his office.

The door opened, Lizzie’s gaze instantly got up, searching for who might that be. When her gaze met the figure, her jaw dropped. ‘Not again’ she thought. This scene reminds her of the time May Carleton came in here only to entice her Tommy.

She knew he didn’t owe her anything, but he could’ve waited at least a day or two before calling another woman. Not even twenty-four hours earlier Tommy was fucking her in some alley in the cold, probably thinking about a woman he knew before France. But he said he was fucking her, Lizzie, and not his lost teenage lover, even if she knew better.

Tommy and his cock.

That May Carleton was walking so confidently in front of Lizzie, she probably thought she was the one to own Tommy’s cock. If only she knew. She glared at her so strongly that May avoided looking at her at all costs.

The woman that just passed the door didn’t look her way, too occupied walking straight to the doors of Tommy’s office with the arrogance of an army.

Lizzie’s eyes went from her seemingly very expensive shoes, up her green pants suit in which pockets she kept a hand, to her suit jacket that fell perfectly on her waist as the end of which was drawing the woman’s hips. Her leather belt marked, even more, her waist and its golden details matched the imposing blue pearls necklace along with the large same looking earrings.

As soon as the woman entered the room, the atmosphere switched, her figure called the eyes, not only due to her ostentatious jewellery collection but also by the woman’s charismatic aura. Even the clicking sound her heels made on the hard ground was full of power. Anyone could hear the confidence in each of her steps, which made Lizzie gasp.

As a moth attracted to light, Tommy got out of his office, a cigarette hanging on his lips. He pressed a shoulder on the door frame, his eyes fixed on the woman walking towards him.

He was indeed waiting for her.

His deep blue eyes weren’t examining the woman’s form in an enticed way, he was solely looking at her face, a thing that made Lizzie’s heart ached because she understood there might be more than sexual attraction between them.

Lizzie knew her husband. From the way he dawdled on the woman’s face to the little waving of his shoulders, she just knew.

The atmosphere again had changed, Lizzie was now oppressed by their two presences, the warm and powerful one of the stranger and the usual cold and disconcerting one of her husband, one completing the other.

As her heart didn’t want to admit it yet, a burning look was exchanged by the two pairs of eyes, and confirmed the obvious her brain already knew, Thomas had found his match, and it wasn’t her.

(...)

Tommy took off his shoulder from the door frame and stood straight as he humidified his lips. The librarian walked to him with her usual unreadable face and when she was close enough, she grabbed his cigarette off his fingers taking her time to make their skin touch as much as she could. Her eyes were still deeply in Tommy’s as millions of sparks animated the tips of his fingers.

The man coughed and turned to Lizzie, motioning his hand to the woman behind the desk, in an attempt to ignore the sparks. “Mrs Y/L/N, meet my wife, Lizzie. Lizzie, it’s Mrs Y/L/N, the librarian I work with at the House Of Commons.” He had sensed the intense look of his wife since Y/N came closer to him.

“Mrs Shelby! I am so honoured to meet you, I heard about your typewriting skills, writing eyes closed, eh? I could never.” Y/N gave a warm smile to Lizzie that squinted her eyes in anticipation. His wife didn’t believe in what the librarian just told and he was sure Y/N knew it too.

“Yeah? Well, I never heard of you.” Lizzie spitted.

“It’s because you don’t keep company with my people.” She had the audacity to take a puff on the cigarette she stole earlier from Tommy looking his wife straight in the eyes.

Even if Y/N’s voice was calm and solemn, it was clear it was an attack. The implication made Lizzie gritted her teeth as she got up and joined them. Tommy rubbed a hand on his own face knowing exactly what she was going to do.

She stood behind the librarian. “And what business do you have here in Birmingham if you work in London?”

“You’re husband,” Y/n responded, not even turning to her. She bypassed Tommy and opened the door’s office before disappearing behind them.

Lizzie followed her with her eyes before looking up at her husband. “The fuck is she doing here? Are you going to fuck her, Thomas?”

“No, Lizzie. Am not going to fuck her.” He responded exhaling deeply.

“Yeah, take me for an fucking idiot.” She walked to the desk to grab her hat & coat. “That’s all you’re good for anyway. You fucked all Birmingham and now London, huh?” She sneered before shaking her head walking to the exit.

“Lizzie.” He called, but the woman had already closed the door.

Tommy raised his brows and sighed before turning to the office where he marked a pause. It was another type of storm he had to face now. He finally opened the door and got in, only to find Y/N seated behind his desk, in his chair.

“Tommy Shelby, OBE, what a pleasure to meet your family.”

“It was quite a show you put out there.” He closed behind him.

When he turned back at the room, she was walking toward him, but she already was pretty near.

“So you fucked all Birmingham already, hum? Trying to expand your activities in London?” Y/N leaned on him, she was so close he could smell her breath and he wondered what was her fucking problem. She ignored him for days after they kissed and here she was again, pushing him to the edges. It was almost as if it was a game for her. And if it was, she was winning all the damn rounds.

“And you? What’s with the attitude?”

“What are you talking about.” She took a step back.

“You have been busy this week, eh?” Tommy walked to the counter and poured whiskey in two glasses.

“Well, the man you have your little brother watching, he talks.” She loosely let out. “The bookmaker Billy Grade, the one that conducts the football betting business” She paused looking at Tommy’s surprised expression. “He doesn’t like Arthur.”

“To who?” Was the simple question he needed an answer to.

“I made moves with Mosley so, yes, it had been a busy week, Thomas.”

At the revelation, Tommy’s eyes squinted. If there was one thing he learnt with Grace was to make sure his feelings weren’t a shackle to business.

“I’m not betraying you, no need for these wrinkles at the corner of your eyes. But you gotta know he’s offered me the South.” She went to the counter and took the glasses before sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk, one cup in her hand, the other she put on one of the numerous files covering the desk.

Tommy went sitting in his armchair. He lit a cigarette and held one to the woman that declined.

“Only like to take yours.” She gave as an explanation.

“How come he offered you the south?” He ignored her comment.

“North’s Mc Cavern’s, Middle’s yours, South’s vacant. But I have another plan for the South, and you might agree with me as well.” A rictus took place at the corner of her lips, as Tommy looked at her, curious. “Mr Solomons. I know he wrote you that he’s still alive.”

Tommy’s lids fluttered a couple times, he didn’t say anything. How could she know so much all the time? Was she listening to him or something? He for a second thought it might be her spying on him on the phone but this idea went away almost immediately.

She wasn’t Grace.

“He and I are great friends. Not as if he really has any, but do I?” She muttered utterly to herself.

Tommy coughed and leaned back on his chair, making himself comfortable.

“What’s with you, Tommy?” Asked the librarian, and he himself couldn’t put a finger on what was going on. It was always that way when she was around, but everything intensified when they leaned their breath as one and connected together.

His mind was so full of thoughts that had nothing to do with business that it was hard for him to concentrate. But for some reason, he just couldn’t push those thoughts aside.

He wanted her, he yearned for her to touch him the way she did that night, to intertwine their fingers together again and forget about Mosley for an instant, just one. Tommy humidified his lips again as raising his eyebrows, it was like his lips were always dry or incomplete. Her lips belonged on his. He raised his gaze to her in distress.

“You want to come to me house, Tommy? Again?” Her voice resonated in his head, her words taking him by surprise.

“Huh?”

“Have a drink or two, meet my cat...” She went on, looking intently at his soul hiding behind his icy blue iris.

He didn’t recognize her, but did he even know her? It seems not. Every time they meet, she puts another mask on. Somewhere in his soul, he believed it wasn’t a good idea, that thing they shared. But he knew he couldn’t turn away and break the partnership. Not now. Not only could she be hard to beat if they turned to enemies, but he also needed her, she was part of his business now. She was too precious an ally for him to withdraw from the deal.

As he didn’t respond, she drank from her cup, finishing its countenance in one go. “I’ll ask Arthur then...replace his Linda.” She added looking up to the ceiling innocently.

“The fuck did you say?” He hustled to spit as watching her without blinking.

Her gaze went back on Tommy, a playful gleam animating her pupils.

“What do you say?” She sent him back the ball. It was indeed a game for her, and he knew once again she would be the winner because he wouldn’t say no.

He tried to escape her game by coughing it away and smoked his cigarette. “How are you going to bring up Alfie Solomons with Mosley?” He went back on business, but the woman didn’t seem ready yet to give up.

She got up and grabbed the phone with one hand as the other was dialling a number. She sat at the corner of the desk, turning toward the Shelby brother and the phone. Tommy watched her movements closely, curious about how she was going to handle him dismissing her offer.

He couldn’t even hide the fact her stubbornness did something to him, even if he repressed any desire for her. It was as if they were the principal characters in the regency era drama he ended up devouring as it was the book Y/N was reading on their first meeting.

He was so deep in thought he didn’t hear the librarian asking the cable woman to put her in connection with the individual she intended to reach.

“Yeah, Arthur, it’s me. I wonder if you would wa--” Tommy had heard enough. He hung up the line and fixed the phone for what feels like centuries, slowly realizing what his reaction meant.

The Y/E/C eyes woman remained silent, a silence that felt heavy on Tommy’s conscience. He straightened back and leaned on the back of his chair, glancing at the ceiling.

He was done with those games. He couldn’t believe he dove into her crude farce head first, and now he had to face her because she had been staring at him the last minute.

“You’re a devil.” He let the words lazily slip between his lips.

“Call me Lilith.” She spiritedly exclaimed. Tommy’s eyes went to her face at that exact moment.

“So you’re jew, eh? That explains why you know Alfie, but contradicts the fact you and Mosley are close.” Tommy thought out loud. According to his memories, Lilith was a demon of the jew tradition, which led him to his conclusion.

The woman instantly smiled, seemingly very content about the Shelby head struggling to catch her.

“Fair enough.”

“You come to my house?”

“I was talking about the comparison.” He paused, looking at her blankly.

She sighed.

No doubt she was annoyed by Tommy’s behaviour, but she won way too much at their little game. It was about time Tommy won. It was unusual of him to be that shallow but it was their intimate space, so he didn’t care.

(...)

Gina couldn’t see anything when the abductors took her out of the car to lead her down some stairs into what she surmised to be a cellar, she already had a piece of cloth hiding her vision and one in her mouth, preventing her from screaming.

She was petrified and the fact the individuals didn’t say a word, neither during the ride nor once in the room didn’t help her. She could feel heavy drops of sweat rolling down her forehead as dried tears itched the corners of her eyes.

The place was colder than what she remembered a cellar to be. Flashes of her childhood coming back to her from time to time.

“THREE… TWO… ONE… ZERO. I’M COMING GINA!” Her cousin shouted from the kitchen where they last saw each other. The little girl used to come down in the cellar to hide when playing hide and seek with any member of her family, from her cousins to her father.

As her mother was severely ill, she couldn’t play with Gina, but her father always did. When not leading the believers to sing the praises of the Almighty at the local church, he was both a father and a mother to her.

Although her mother & herself loved each other more than anything, she soon stopped seeing her. When at first her father let Gina visit the room of her mother once a day, it decreased from once a week, to once a month to simply never.

Despite the child doggedly asking for her mother, he remained unyielding and managed to keep his daughter away from her mother for her own sake.

It was only when growing older and after the death of her mother that Gina understood her father’s demeanour. He was desperate not to let his daughter watch her mother die.

This time, the cellar didn’t feel familiar and it’s not a joyful feeling that resides in her. Her body reacting to the cold, she was shivering as goosebumps appeared at the same time as she heard footsteps coming her way. Her blood boiling like hot water, she struggled to breathe.

“Call her father.” Gina heard a female voice she had never heard before. She listened to footsteps receding before a whimper escaped her throat.

“Well, you heard the woman, let her talk.” The voice ordered. And just like that, her mouth got freed. “Go on.” The female voice seemed to address her directly.

“What do you want with my father?” She managed to say after she moved her jaws to get rid of the piece of cloth’s taste.

“He’s an old friend.”

“Can’t you just call like normal people instead of abducting his child?” Gina murmured, not totally relieved from the fear. She wanted to appear unmoved and plucked all the courage left in her to get an untroubled voice.

“I know you, Gina.” The voice started, getting closer. “You alright? You’re trembling.” Well, it seems like all the effort she put in wasn’t enough, her true emotions were discovered.

“You know me, huh? So you know as soon as you detach me I’ll assault you and spit right in your face, right?” She angrily let out, she didn’t accept to be defeated nor seen while being vulnerable and defenceless.

But it seems like the individual challenged her, because she heard someone pass behind her and loosen the cords holding back her hands. At the same moment, the piece of cloth blinding her fell on her collarbones.

Before her, stood straight a woman with a closed face, her facial traits weren’t aggressive, but in her eyes, Gina could swear she saw in there an untamed fire. Her brown eyes slid to a sitting white dog near the stranger, it looked like a wolf, even its huge size reminded her of the fierce beast she read about as a teenager.

It was ridiculous to see this situation unleashed the least probable memories of her youth into her mind as vividly as yesterday.

“Who are you? What do you want?” The woman before Gina mimicked her voice, a smile drawing on her lips. “They always ask the same questions.” She shrugged her shoulders seeing Gina’s surprised expression. The freshly Gray woman closed her mouth that was slightly open in an “o” shape and clenched her jaw.

“Well, I need your father to come here, in England. And you,” she tapped Gina’s end of nose, “you’re the thing that’ll make him travel the world all the way to Birmingham. To my greatest pleasure,” She patted her own chest before motioning to Gina, “and much to your displeasure.”

Gina didn’t even know what to say, she used the time the woman spent talking to massage her wrists as the cords were tied very tight. Her gaze dawdled on the woman in front of her, she was wearing a very long purple coat to which two buttons situated at the waist of its owner were closed. She also wore black lace gloves with ostentatious golden rings above the fabric. The diamonds of her rings were blue, matching her earrings. When the woman turned to the side to pat her dog’s head, Gina noticed she had braided her hair in a single braid that fell on her back.

The woman crouched down for her eyes to be at the same level as the dog’s ones, one of her hands scratching its head. “One single word and it attacks you, so you better behave.” She turned her head to Gina, warning her. The blonde woman glared at the other before glancing toward the dog in anticipation.

Y/N got back up and turned her back to Gina as she started to walk toward the stairs. “Get comfortable, it’s your new home for a few days.”

“What, you’re leaving me in this? With the dog?” She screamed at the Y/H/C haired woman.

“If I were you, I’d avoid screaming, Gina doesn’t like too loud noises.” She waved goodbye as answering without even glancing toward Gray.

“What?” Gina asked, confusion in her voice.

Y/N chuckled a bit before turning around, her index went from the dog to Gina, “Yeah, meet your twin.” She walked backwards a couple of seconds before turning back to the stairs and climbing them.

(...)

House Of Commons, London.

The door of Tommy’s office abruptly opened on an angry Michael.

The Shelby brother that was pouring himself some whisky glanced at his cousin. “Michael.” He welcomed.

“Where the fuck is my wife, Tommy?” Gray asked, frowning.

“What?” He squinted his eyes.

“Where. The. Fuck. Is. My. Wife.” Michael spitted each word, looking straight into his older cousin’s eyes.

Tom blinked a couple times, not understanding the request.

“Days ago when coming back from the fucking restaurant some fucking people took her.” The younger Gray calmed a bit, seeing that Tommy truly didn’t know what he was talking about.

“How did they look?” Tom asked, concerned. Even if Michael might have betrayed him, he was family still and anyone jeopardizing the life of a member of the Shelby clan or someone related to them should taste the sweet fondles of death’s fingers.

“Men in fucking black.” Michael started to pace up and down, both his hands passing over his face. “I’m getting mad, Tom, me head fucking all over the place...” He continued.

“Men, no women?” Tommy brows raised, he had to ask. He remembered the conversation he had with that librarian when she was telling him she thought Gina was the weakness and force of his cousin and that she might do something about it.

“No.” Michael stated firmly. Tommy’s tensed shoulders relaxed. “Or..” Tommy raised his brows. “I don’t know, Tom. Fuck.”

“We’re going to find her, Michael. Stay in your hotel room, stay put, near the phone, right?” The Shelbys' head tapped his cousin’s shoulder before leaving the office.

(...)

He stopped the car near the portals and got out, a cigarette hanging on his lips. Tommy walked the pointlessly long alley, by-passing a ton of fountains and trimmed bushes of different forms and shapes.

The fair distance gave him time to rethink everything that concerned Y/N and his relationship with her. If she truly was behind the disappearance of his cousin’s wife, he would have to deal with her, meaning going to war, which was far from the plan since he entered politics.

He knocked on the door without waiting any further once he joined the principal door. He was looking intently at the windows trying to see a silhouette through it or an ignited light of some sort, but nothing.

The door abruptly opened, making a loud noise and the figure of the librarian was to be seen. Tommy raised his hand to her face, pointing his gun at her, but when her body was fully visible thanks to the moon shining, he blinked, bewildered.

His eyes dropped on a Y/N only dressed with an emeraude lace nightgown. The top was all see-through, but it didn’t stop him from cocking the gun and hold it steady in between her eyebrows. Even though he was here because he suspected her to have turned her back to him, his body reacted a whole different way to the view. His heart started to pounder in his chest as a warmth suddenly took prisoner his upper body. He swallowed in an attempt to dismiss the feeling ready to burst out.

“Missing our start?” She let out, not even pretending to be scared or shook by the situation. As a matter of fact, in their second meeting, Tom indeed pulled a gun at her, how could he forget that. Nobody ever had the nerve to threaten him on his own doorsteps, but of course, she did.

“Where’s Gina?” He ignored she was half-naked along with her remark.

“What the fuck, Thomas?” One of her eyebrows raised in confusion. “What’s happened?”

Tommy switched the position of his fingers, putting his index right on top of the trigger to make known he knew she was lying.

As she felt the danger, the woman banged the door on Tom’s face and not even a second later, he heard bullets being fired as he saw holes drawing through the door. The time stopped, or at least everything appeared as slower.

He instinctively put his arms over his head and kneeled as other bullets were being fired, he managed his way to the wall of the mansion, staying down.

“Fucking hell, Y/N!” He shouted his lungs out, his ears whistling due to the bullets’ noise.

“Remember when I warned you, Thomas. You pull a gun, I shoot!” She accentuated the last part, her tone underlined by anger.

“Why did you take her?” He kept his head close to the wall as shaking it, trying to totally recover his hearing.

“You should’ve asked that when you could, Sergent Major.” She calmly stated.

Tommy could hear she was re-loading her gun.

He looked at the gravels under him and recognized the bullet belonging to a rifle. He frowned, wondering how come she got a rifle.

“No. Put down the rifle, I'm throwing me gun.” He said loudly before dropping his gun in the grass far away from him, his weapon made a muffled noise while encountering the ground.

He didn’t hear anything for a minute that seems to last hours. The night breeze came fondling his face, helping him to ease his breath as the silence made him fully recover his hearing.

The front door opened, and Y/N peeked through. Only one of her Y/E/C eyes was to be seen, and even if her pupil was dilated due to the adrenaline, her look seemed concerned. “Are you hurt?” She solemnly asked, she, as well, being out of breath.

Tommy shook his head on both sides before he managed to stand, helped by the wall.

“You mad woman.” He closed his eyes as taking a deep breath in, knowing she wouldn't try to kill him tonight. When he opened his eyes again, she was in front of him, barefoot on the gravel.

“Sorry… I tend to lose my shit when I’m in danger.” She placed the rifle hanging around her neck to her side, a hand holding it still.

“You weren’t. I wasn’t gonna fucking shot, just trying to scare you.”

“...Well you angered me.” She hesitated in even giving him an answer. She finally decided she didn't need the rifle anymore and went placing it against the wall.

“Not fear, eh?” He teased, and she shook her head as a response.

“Why the fuck did you take Gina away? Michael’s all over the place, he even came to me. The boy’s fucking losing it.”

“Well, firstly, he deserved a little reminding he was still a boy as you correctly underlined,” she raised her brows looking at him, “secondly, after further research, I found it I know her father. Long story short, he’s the only one to be able to deal with her uncle if we don’t want any blood spilt.”

“Fucking was about to spill me gut on your doorstep, the fuck you care about spilt blood, Y/N?” He furrowed his brows as agitating one of his hands, motioning to the ground beneath their feet.

“Yeah,” she acquiesced, “not me that cares about fucking family. It’s you.”

That’s when he realized how serious she took their partnership. When he thought she was solely doing what fitted her best, she indeed took into consideration Tommy's convictions. She took seriously the fact he didn't want the family to be hurt. And although he ranged on her side regarding scaring Michael a bit to make him realize something, he never thought of Y/N to be tough enough to act with as much strategy as ruthlessness. She definitely outdid him in this case.

This sudden realisation aroused something in him. She cared. Even if the care she gave was nonetheless peculiar and typical to her character, she did what she could with what she had right? And right now she was working with him with as much resilience and fierceness as she would do with her own organisation.

“If it was up to me, fucking bullets to the head for both of ‘em and we done.” She dismissively worded as looking afar. “Where’s your gun?” She lazily looked back at him.

Tommy hesitated a short period of time before he grabbed her wrist and pulled her against himself. She didn’t push him away as he neared his face near her, she was the one sealing their lips together. This time, none of them were eager for the other, their kiss was light, soft and pure, contrasting with the chaotic situation they put themselves in.

The blue-eyed man slipped a hand on her back, fondling her skin above the piece of cloth covering her body while she reached for the button of his pants under his coat.

The atmosphere switched, not even seconds earlier it was love talking, now it was a whole another emotion ruling them.

Tom started to walk toward the door, forcing her to walk backwards. When she understood what he intended to do she murmured a soft “No.” and he opened his eyes darkened by desire and urge, looking into hers that were screaming for sex.

A smile grew on her lips as she went sticking her back to the nearest wall, her fingers strongly gripping on the man’s tie. He didn’t break the eye contact and joined her, flattening one of his hands on the cold wall. The warmth of his longing for the woman added to the coldness of the night were mixing together so well he felt a little dizzy.

He couldn’t think about how often he imagined them during their first time or how often he tried to picture Y/N’s curves in his head but his body somehow knew how much he wanted this. His hands were dawdling on any portion of her figure he could find, gulping each piece that was giving to him as if she was the first woman he’d ever touched.

Each kiss enticed him a bit more and whenever he closed his eyes he could literally see fireworks exploding everywhere in him. And whenever he would open them, he would find Y/N looking intently at him, her expression revealing everything she could never tell him, her feelings for him as well as her deepest fear, frustrations & beyond, her eyes being the messenger of the immensity of a soul, to another.

She quickly got to his bum she previously teased with one knee before reaching for his length.

Her cold fingers struck it a few times before she came aligning him with the distress for feeling him inside.

Once he was perfectly aligned, she released him and reunited her lips to his, where they belonged, giving him the green light. He thrust slowly at first, letting her some time to get used to his size. She murmured a low “Tommy...”, her legs encircling his hips as he grabbed one of them firmly. He was keeping her as close to him as possible, making sure their bodies were as connected as their souls were. He ultimately began to come and go, increasing his pace as time passed by.

Her high pitched moans came directly to his ears, the best sounds he’s heard out of his entire life without a doubt.

Following Chapter ❱

[redroomwidows]

Love Story

SUMMARY: Y/n and Bucky are in love, despite the issues life throws at them.

based off the song ‘Love Story’ by Taylor Swift. This is for Valentines day and in honour of Taylor releasing her first re-recorded song! 

WORD COUNT: 1735

WARNINGS:  Swearing, a little bit of angst. My lack of 40s knowledge and protective father knowledge. 

Happy valentines day! Even if you don’t have anyone to celebrate it with, treat yourself! 

40s! Bucky Barnes x fem! reader

If anyone were to describe Bucky Barnes, it would be as a ladies' man. He could smile at a girl and they’d fall instantly in love before he’s even said his name. Bucky didn’t hate this, in fact he used it to his advantage many times, however eventually it got tiring. He felt like he was expected to be charming and endearing all the time. But on some nights, he just wanted to go out with Steve, he didn’t want to go dancing, he just wanted to have a beer with his friend 

Today was one of those days. He’d entered the bar in hopes of sitting down and having a few laughs with his friend, however the two had seemed to forget it was dancing night. As soon as they entered all eyes were on Bucky, but he just smiled, slightly embarrassed, and walked with Steve to get them a table.

The night wasn’t as bad as he expected it to be, him and Steve still had fun, even though the numerous ladies giving Bucky the eyes from halfway across the room was staring to get on Steve’s nerves. Eventually, Bucky let his eyes wander through the crowd and they land on a woman in the corner. Bucky’s eyes widen slightly, she was gorgeous. Her hair was down in the usual pin curls he’d seen, but her face looks painted on, like she was a goddess from a painting made long ago. He’d seen her before, but she always hid in the corner with her friend, hiding her face slightly. But today, it was clear she’d had a bit to drink and she was laughing loudly and Bucky couldn't help but keep staring. The woman turns slightly, feeling eyes on her and when she catches Bucky, she gives him a small smile.

“I’ll be back,” He says quickly to Steve, standing.

“Buck…” Steve sighs “You said you wouldn’t. Not tonight -”

“I know...Look one dance,” he raises his index finger and Steve nods, knowing it was a lie but he wanted to go home now anyway. The Bar was slowly emptying out and only a few already established couples were sat at tables or dancing. 

Bucky makes his was across the dance floor and his target looks up slightly.

“Hey,” he introduces himself “I’m Bucky,”

“Y/n,” she introduced herself, putting her hand out for him to shake, but instead he takes it in his hand and kisses it, maintaining eye contact with her. Instead of blushing as he expects though, she laughs. And right then, is when Bucky decides he wanted to marry her. 

Y/n and Bucky met several times after that night, either accidentally, or they arranged to do something together. Eventually, those arrangements turned into dates and the two were quickly falling in love.

Bucky always tried to walk Y/n home, but whenever they got to the end of her street, she’d insist she could go on her own. Her father was...protective to say the least and she didn’t need him to know about her growing relationship with Bucky. She wanted him to know, god she wanted her whole family to know. But her father would never even let her have a chance to speak.

“Let me walk you home tonight doll,” Bucky starts and Y/n stop in her tracks, looking up at her boyfriend 

“I’ll be fine Buck, it’s barely two minute walk,”

“I know, but I want to be a real gentleman, walk you to the door,”

“You are a real gentleman,” Y/n smiles, reaching to hold Bucky’s cheek 

“I don’t feel like one when I don’t get to kiss you goodnight in front of your door,”

“Maybe I’m not a real lady hm?” Y/n smiles 

“No, that can’t be right,” Bucky shakes his head and Y/n laughs, leaning to press a soft kiss to his lips.

Bucky smiles into the kiss, pulling Y/n in closer by the hips, there’s a moment of calm before a car drives past, and Y/n's eyes widen as she recognises the car “oh shit,” 

“What?” Bucky turns and the car stops as a man leans over and winds the window down.

“Y/n…” the man starts.

“Dad,” she responds and Bucky’s eyes widen as well and he lets go of his girlfriend, attempting to wipe her lipstick from his lips “This is Bucky my um…”

“I don’t care. Get in the car Y/n,”

“Dad - I’m not a kid anymore. I can go out with who I like,”

“Not while you live under my roof,” 

“Dad!”

“Get in the car!” he continues and Y/n sighs, giving Bucky’s hand a squeeze with a sad smile as she gets into the backseat “Stay away,” he drives off and Y/n sighs, banning her head against the window.

When back inside the house, Y/n goes immediately up the stairs “Oh, so you’re ignoring me now?” her father asks

“Yes, I am,” 

“Who even was he?”

“He was my boyfriend dad!” Y/n turns “and you just forced me into the car and home when I was on a date,”

“I’ve never met him before, how can he be your boyfriend?”

“You’ve never met him because of this,” Y/n gestures, turning around as tears well in her eyes, she didn’t want her father to stop her from seeing Bucky. She was a grown adult for fucks sake, yet her father still thought he had control over her.

“I’m a grown adult, I’m allowed to go on dates and have a boyfriend, I’m allowed to be in love,”. Y/n rushes up the stairs, sitting down calmly on her bed as she lets the tears fall, burying her face in her hands. 

The weeks and months following that night, were full of secret meetings and sneaking out of the house for Y/n. Her father had told her to stop seeing Bucky, but she didn’t listen and Bucky would do anything to keep seeing her, so he dealt with the scolding from Steve and the sadness that flooded through him whenever his and Y/n’s time together was cut short.

“Y/n,” Bucky says one night when they’re lying in the grass of a park a few blocks from Y/n’s house.

“Hm?” she answers, looking over at him

“I uh -” he’s unsure how to say it, unsure how to tell his love he’s leaving

“What is it Buck?” She’s concerned now, he’s never normally this quiet.

“I got my orders. I’m leaving for England in a few days,”

It takes her a minute to process what he’s just said “England?”

“Yeah,” Bucky grabs her hand, giving it a squeeze “I - I don’t expect you to wait for me,”

“Of course, I’ll wait for you!” Y/n nearly shouts and she leans over so she’s straddling Bucky “Of course I’ll wait, I’ll write letters, I’ll visit Steve, I’ll take care of Becca. I’ll do anything you need okay?”

“I just - You could have anyone and what If I don’t come back?”

“You will come back,” Y/n says firmly “You’ll come back because the woman who loves you will be right here,”

“Love?”

“Yeah, Love,” Y/n smiles leaning down to kiss Bucky slowly “I love you Bucky Barnes. More than any words can describe”.

Y/n said she’d write and she did, her and Bucky exchanged letters as often as they can. Sometimes Y/n felt like she was just writing into nothingness, but then every few months she’d get a reply that responded to everything she’d said. However, at one point there was nothing for so long Y/n got worried, she was scared. What of he’d been taken captive? What if he was unable to write? What if he’d - she could never fully finish that thought.

Her family had told her to stop writing, to move on and go out dancing again. Maybe she’d find another man. But most of the men were gone at this point, even if Y/n had the thought of leaving Bucky, which she never did. 

She wished Bucky would come back, that he’d kiss her on the lips and say everything would be alright, that he was safe and happy. Bur she doubted that would happen, she was coming to expect the letter so many others had received.

Ultimately, Y/n had to stop sending letters, the pain of not receiving anything back was becoming too much. She had spent weeks in her room, but eventually her mother had forced her out, telling her to go for a walk around the park. It was evening by now and most the kids were gone now, Y/n felt like it was just her there and she found herself returning to the spot her and Bucky used to lay in the middle of the night. 

“Hey,” A familiar voice calls and Y/n turns around and she lets out a small, quiet laugh.

“Hey,” Y/n smiles, but before she can rush into Bucky’s arms, she notices his left one in a sling.

“I uh, got sent home, can’t really fire a gun,” he laughs slightly and Y/n runs to him, making sure to lean into his right side, he hugs her back and when they pull apart, both can see the other is crying.

“I missed you, I missed you so much,” Y/n cups Bucky’s face in her hands, examining his face for any cuts or scars.

“Me too doll,” Bucky smiles and lets Y/n press a kiss to his lips.

“I’m sorry for stopping writing. I got scared and -”

“I know,” Bucky nods “It’s okay, I know,” Y/n could barely breathe when she looked at Bucky, he looked different, older sadder, and it broke her heart. However, behind it all was the familiar shine Y/n saw that night when she said she loved him.

“I wanted to ask you something,”

“Anything,” Y/n smiles and Bucky steps back, reaching into his pocket 

“I uh, bought this before I left. I wanted to ask but I didn’t want you feeling more. alone,” He slowly lowers himself to the ground and Y/n widens her eyes.

“I don’t want to leave you again, I don’t want to read letters about your life, I want to experience it with you and I don’t want it to be a secret. I spoke to your dad, he said he approved and -”

“Yes,” Y/n answers instantly and a wide smile graces her face, the biggest smile that’d graced her face in months. 

It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

want to be added to my taglist?

bucky barnes taglist: 

@buckysbeloved​

[bansheeoftheforest]

I've always liked that headcannon/idea that Jekyll and Hyde can mimic each others voices perfectly. So how about a silly tgs oneshot where others find that out?

I'm sadly blanking on details at the moment, but there can be a scene where Hyde casually mocks Jekyll by going all like,, "Look at me!, I'm Dr. Jekyll and if someone looks at me funny I'll die!" In Jekyll's voice? Bjsndksks idk. No clue about what'd Jekyll do mimicking Hyde though,

I uh... I might have gone a lil overboard with this. Somehow this ended up being the longest oneshot I have written so far and uhh... Yeah. Sorry for the long wait! I’m not sure if I made it specifically silly enough but... I got my beta-reader to laugh so hopefully it’s silly enough?? (also, I saw your other ask! Didn’t mean to ignore it, just wasn’t sure if you wanted me to respond at all but thank you for answering at all!! I’m still trying to figure out what content to make for the fandom so your input means a lot c:) 

Also, sidenote! Or, well, two sidenotes! First of all, there is going to be a heavy cockney accent in the latter part of the oneshot, so there is a translation at the end! Second of all... I apologise for any mistakes in the writing/posting, it’s currently 1.am and I didn’t want to wait until the morning to post this dfhfdsdfsdf

Betaread by @ineffable-idjit, as always!

——————————————————————————

Title name: Mockings and Mimickings

Wordcount: 4143

Summary: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde were, in most cases, radically different, especially so when it came to their behaviour. However, as things start to go back to normal, and as the two men find their place in the Society once more, their frustrations on each other are bound to be let out, in one way or another.

CW: non-graphic usage of alcohol, swearing, barely noticeable innuendos. 

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Anyone who had ever laid their eyes upon both Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde could, with confidence, tell anyone who asked that the two men were as different as could be.

Dr. Jekyll was tall and well-built, with curly brown hair that often fell over his right eye in such a charismatic way that any lady within eyesight would swoon and sway. His eyes were as red as rubies, much like most of his neat and stylish clothing that weren’t instead the darkest shade of black. He held himself up with such pride and dignity that he immediately was in the centre of attention when he entered a room. He was beloved and envied, and most people who saw him couldn’t help but feel a fondness deep inside their chests, making them feel like the doctor was a man of honour worth looking up to, worth trusting.

Mr. Hyde was, without a doubt, his exact opposite.

He was short and lanky, with fluffy blond hair that shot out from his head like the mane of a lion, which was also cut by the bangs to keep it out of his bright green eyes. There had always been something that felt uncanny with him that made the skin of every passerby crawl when they spotted him in the dark streets of London, and while his clothes were kept stylish and fitted, he always wore a ragged cape. His demeanour was firey and he never hesitated to jump into a bar fight with an intent of wounding and harming, which made him quite disliked by most and yet, somehow, he still had a small hand-full of people that actually cared about him, even if it was only because they had something to gain from it.

In almost all aspects, Dr. Henry Jekyll and Mr. Edward Hyde were radically different, which made the fact that they seemed to have such a close connection to each other even more perplexing. Not to mention that no one had ever seen the two of them together in the same place. And yet, despite their differences, they shared a few similarities that both of them would dismiss at the mere mention of it.

Both of them were straight-backed, with curved noses that stood out in contrast to their much more neutral facial features. Sharing a similar clothing style, the only differences were their primary colours with red against green, and yet they both shared a refined style of black in most of their wear. While Dr. Jekyll often hid his emotions on his facial features, those which did end up showing would remind most people of the way that Mr. Hyde would exaggerate his expressions in an almost comical way. The eye-rolls, the soft sneers, the huffs reserved for private conversations with those they liked; it all just accounted more to the belief that they were almost trying to be as different as possible. Nevertheless, one of the differences that always were consistent were their voices. The doctor would always have a steady, light and yet deep voice that demanded attention. His accent was as generic as a posh Brit’s accent could be, while Hyde’s voice was far more rigged and jagged while still being smooth, with an accent that easily matched him in with the ruffians of East London. Voices which, to their surroundings, were easily picked upon. Any Lodger would be able to separate Dr. Henry Jekyll’s voice from a crowd of thousands while everyone in all of East London could simultaneously groan when they heard the voice of one Edward Hyde. While their behaviour and looks could go back and forth in similarities, their voices were always different, and very much so.

Which made one Rachel Pidgley even more confused as the blond man strutted around the kitchen with a near-perfect imitation of the doctor’s voice.

“Look at me! I’m the perfect doctor Jekyll! I’m so much better than everyone else but don’t look at me funny or I’ll die!” The blond man mimicked, putting the tips of his fingers against his chest while bending his back over the kitchen counter that he stood against, “I’m just a Scottish git and an industrial slut, woe is me!”

The cook stared, blinked, and then put the saucepan she had been holding back onto the stovetop. The older man didn’t seem to notice her confusion, however, as he just continued to swoon dramatically on the countertop, completely ignoring the groan that erupted from his shadow at the cheap imitation.

“How’d... How did you do that?” The cook said then suddenly, struck with awe as she furrowed her eyebrows at the blond man. The question seemed to catch Mr. Hyde off-guard, as he stopped his charade and looked back at Rachel.

“What?”

“You sounded exactly like Henry! How’d you do that?”

The older man raised an eyebrow at the cook, before clicking his tongue and grinning.

“We do sound quite alike sometimes, yes?” Mr. Hyde said, his voice right back at mimicking the voice of the doctor. “Rachel, my god, Lanyon looked at me today! Can you imagine? Wow, Lanyon spoke to me today! Wow! Lanyon, oh, take me, my prince charming!” The blond man moaned, placing his hand against his chest as he dramatically swooned over the countertop like a lady whose corset was tight enough to limit her breathing. The imitation quickly broke off, however, as the blond man began to cackle maniacally, almost as if he was trying to mimic a swamp witch instead of the Scotsman.

Despite the insults being aimed at one of her very best friends, the Romani couldn’t help but immediately break down in a mix between snorting and laughing in surprise, clutching the edge of the countertop for support so she wouldn’t fall over. While most of her laughing fit was due to surprise, just processing what the blond man said got her laughing even harder.

“S-stop! I can’t breathe!” She managed to press out between her fit. She could feel her stomach clutching as she desperately tried to calm down, but Hyde’s continued laughter that soon enough went from cackle to a genuine laugh didn’t help the situation at all. Luckily, it only took a few moments before she managed to get her breathing under control, although the giant grin on her lips never left, even though she wheezed a little bit.

“You cannot tell me that it’s not how Jekyll speaks, like, all the time.” The blond man snorted, grinning even more as his shadow facepalmed, even though both counterparts were well aware that Rachel could not see it.

“I never denied it!” She giggled softly, her cheeks rosy from all the laughing as she went back to the cooking, doing her best to control her breathing. “I swear, it sounds exactly like Henry! If I had not known it was you, I’d sworn it would have been him!”

“What tells you that it’s not?” The blond man continued, his voice still a perfect imitation of the doctor. The deep tone and the posh accent of his counterpart slipped off of his tongue like a piece of butter, and in all fairness, it was just as native for him to speak like Jekyll as it was for Jekyll to speak in his Scottish drawl; he felt a home-like familiarity at using the doctor’s voice, even if their natural voices were vastly different, and yet it felt foreign and weird as he had made up his own, East Londonian accent for so long.

“Because I can see you right in front of me, Master Hyde.” The cook huffed, although she never stopped giggling as she began to mix her wooden spatula through the stew that was simmering on the stovetop. “Make up your voice as much as you’d like, but not even you can turn into Henry! That would be downright impossible. Not to mention weird. I can keep one Henry and one Hyde in check, but not two Henrys or two Hydes!”

The blond man continued to snort, although a teasing grin never left his thin lips.

“Oh yeah? And what kind of troubles does little Mr. Perfect give you?” It wasn’t until now that the blond man let go of the accent, although he jumped up and sat down on the countertop he stood against, placing his elbow on his knees and resting his head on his palms as he waited for Rachel’s answer.

“He doesn’t give me trouble, to say. But have you seen that man? He would probably have worked himself to death at this point if it wasn’t for me and Lanyon. Two Henrys? That’s basically a death wish. Not to mention two yous. I can barely keep track of you and all your ruckus. How do you expect me to keep track of two Hydes?” The cook shrugged, although she was then struck by a thought, which just got her to shake her head softly, “Unless, of course, there were two of me, but I’m content with just being one of myself, thank you very much.”

“Can relate to that.” The blond man said, doing a halfway glare towards his shadow who just rolled its eyes. It would have been so much better if he was alone, if he was his own person and not constantly had to share mind and body with a posh, holier-than-thou git, but noooooo, he had to be a part of Jekyll. Ugh

‘Stop complaining, just be happy you exist at all.’ Came the voice of the doctor through their shared mind. Of course, Hyde could not respond right back to the doctor, but that didn’t stop him from rolling his eyes. ‘Don’t roll your eyes at me! What are you, a toddler?’

“What are you, an annoying git?” The blond man hiss under his breath, glaring at his shadow as he clutched his teeth together. The shadow of Dr. Jekyll merely rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Did you say something?” Rachel then hummed, turning towards the blond man as she could have sworn she had heard him say something.

“Nothing! I said nothing. Must’ve been the wind or somethin’.”

It was not hard to see that the older man was lying through his teeth, literally, and yet Rachel just shrugged a bit to herself before turning back to the food. It wasn’t like she had heard what he had said anyway, and it wasn’t like it was unusual for her to hear the man whispering and muttering to himself whenever he felt like it, too. The blond man was far too weird as it was for such behaviour to concern her.

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Dr. Henry Jekyll loved spending time with the Lodgers, he really did, even if he didn’t often catch himself with enough free time to really sit down in one of the communal areas of the Society, wine glass in hand, and truly spend time with the residents. Today, however, was pretty different.

The light blue duvet of sky and heaven that had covered the city during the day had long since turned into a giant mass of black, consuming the light of London and drenching the town into the late evening. The doctor had stayed inside his office for most of the day, having been flooded with paperwork and dreaded with exhaustion, despite the quite easy night that his counterpart had spent with Rachel the evening before, so the Lodgers took their chance to scoop him up and force him to socialize with them the moment they saw him on the way to the kitchens for a late-evening snack, having skipped dinner tonight too. Henry normally wouldn’t have minded all that much, had he not had thousands of more things to do and had he not had the fact that the Lodgers all turned on him just a few weeks prior fresh on his mind. However, now that the Exhibition was out of the way, the Lodgers took it upon themselves to make it up to their leader... In their own ways.

Currently, the doctor had practically been forced to sit down by one of the larger tables in the game room, where most of the Lodgers who were too restless to sleep could be found playing everything from bar games to poker during the late evenings. He had been graciously blessed with a glass and a bottle of red wine to make up for the fact that he was forced to ignore his work for now, and despite it being quite cheap, he could still feel himself loosen up little by little as the evening went on and he continued to sip on the liquid. At least the atmosphere was pleasant and warm, despite the slight hesitation as he had been forced to join the evening in the beginning, but either the tension had gotten better or he was just drinking more than he realized. The fact that he almost pressed his nose into the wineglass to keep himself from snorting as the alter ego’s spectre flew around the room, making silly faces behind the Lodgers and making cheap imitations out of them seemed to be a good indicator that his facade wasn’t as strong as it normally was, at the very least. The worst part came when his inner demon floated around Mr. Archer, who was sitting quite close to Mr. Bird that particular evening, while making sure to make as obscene noises as possible. The doctor had choked on his wine, his cheeks had flared up and he was quite sure that he almost would have suffocated if he hadn’t regained his breathing so quickly, even if that didn’t stop the blond man from laughing like a maniac while the Lodgers around the doctor immediately got concerned for him.

After a few hours of Hyde doing his best to get the Lodgers convinced that the Scotsman was constantly choking on nothing, and after a few hours of Dr. Jekyll wondering if Hyde was trying to murder him, the evening got rowdier and rowdier as more Lodgers began to pile into the game room and as more of them began to drink. The fact that the doctor was Scottish only got more and more apparent as more time passed, having been the one to drink the most and yet be the least drunk out of the whole group. Yet his cravat laid untied around his neck and his jacket hung lazily on the back of his chair, as the doctor soon ditched the glass and began to sip straight out of his bottle of wine. The other Lodgers were not looking any better, nor could they care any less about the doctor’s appearance, but the doctor was the one that seemed the most collected, mostly because he was only listening to the conversations with half an ear.

“I’m telling you all!” Dr. Helsby said, waving his pint of beer around like a missus waving goodbye to her sea-bound husband with a tissue, “Hyde’s like... He’s like... What’s it called?... A quisby!”

After the fire that had broken out during the battle with Moreau a few weeks prior, it was clear that the Lodgers -while they didn’t necessarily hate Mr. Edward Hyde- were pretty upset about the whole ordeal, which was obvious, as Dr. Helsby’s drunken slurring soon was met with murmurs and nods of agreement.

“Yeah!” Peeped Mr. Sinnett, whose face was just as sooty as it normally was, “Why’d you even hire him, Jekyll?”

At suddenly being addressed, the doctor let out a soft huff of surprise before he focused his attention on the question and the actual conversation, despite getting caught quite off-guard, although he still took a moment to take another sip from his wine before answering anyway.

“I had my reasons.” Was all that he said, leaning back on his chair before unbuttoning the first few buttons on his collar. If he would have been sober, he probably would have been horrified by the thought of getting confronted about Hyde and being this open with the Lodgers, but honestly, his collar felt tight and it wasn’t like he was all that drunk, anyway, “Sadly, there is not much any of us can do about it. So just let it be.”

“Are you not tired of him, though?” Miss Lavender spoke up, standing in a corner a bit further away from the table together with Virginia Ito, Miss Flowers and Mrs. Cantilupe, all four of them drinking tea rather than alcohol... Although Henry couldn’t be sure if it was actually tea and not a disguise for something, “you keep complaining about him and all the things he gets up to. Who don’t you just fire him?”

“It's complicated.”

“Ohhh, we see how it is.” Mr. Pennebrygg mused, resting his elbow on the table with his head on his palm as he watched the doctor, “You and Hyde are hiding something.”

“Keep dreaming, Pennebrygg. Just because half of this lot thinks Dr. Jekyll and Hyde are a thing doesn’t make it logical, much less true.” Huffed Ito, rolling her eyes as she refilled her teacup.

“How else would you explain it then, Ms. Smartass?” Pennebrygg shot back immediately, glaring back at the junior neo-alchemist, who glared right back at the man.

“I... Uh... What are you two on about? Should I be concerned?” The doctor suddenly spoke up, cowering a bit in his seat. He had, frankly, no idea what accusations got thrown around right now and he was honestly sure that he didn’t want to know either. The laughing that echoed through his head as his alter ego began to cackle didn’t help his worries, either.

“Nothin’ to worry about, my good man!” Mr. Luckett quipped, patting the doctor’s back since he was sitting right next to him. The alcohol in almost everyone’s bloodstreams really shined through right now, and it was not hard for anyone to see as Mr. Luckett continued to almost violently pat the doctor’s back.

“O...Kay. Either way, I can assure everyone that if I could, I would get rid of Mr. Hyde-”

‘Lies! You’d never get rid of me, doctor.’

“-Because, frankly, he’s been getting on my nerves.”

“Oooh, what has poor lil’ Edward done to get on the good doctor’s nerves, huh?” Mr. Mosley hummed, and despite still wearing his goggles and his mask, the doctor could certainly see the teasing look that the younger Lodger was giving him.

“Existing, for an instance. Not to mention that he takes my gracious hospitality for granted.” The doctor sneered softly, glaring down at the reflection of Hyde in his wine glass, although only for a split second so that no one would notice. “Not an ounce of gratitude in that man. I give him what I can offer and he throws it to the road and is just downright rude to me.” The soft groan of complaint that rose in his throat was clear in his words and his voice, although he still did his best to block out his mind so he wouldn’t have to listen to Hyde anymore.

“Oh yeah, what does he say, then? Can’t be worse than Frankenstein.” Remarked an, surprisingly, almost sympathetic Mr. Tweedy. It was a rare case to see Henry so open and actually speaking about Hyde, so it was not surprising that most of the Lodgers took advantage of that. Not to mention that it was quite rare to see Henry speak so negatively about someone.

“For instance,” the doctor started, clearing his throat to give his best imitation of the ‘younger’ man, “It usually starts as something like ‘Jekyll, by god, are you seriously doing paperwork again? Don’t you have a life and things to do?’, then it turns into something like;  ‘Aww, Dr. Jekyll is busy? Can’t do what he wants to? Oh wow, woe is you!’, and then he starts up again with; ‘Poor little Dr. Jekyll, the aristocracy’s favourite puppet. While you go to fancy banquets trying to keep the Society alive, I am the Spirit of London at Night, the debauchery and desires of all of mankind!’, and the cycle repeats.” The doctor groaned, not noticing that the movement around him stopped and all the Lodgers looked at him. Or, well, he didn’t notice for more than just a moment, before he furrowed his eyebrows and looked over the crowd. “What?”

“You sounded exactly like him!” Mr. Archer gasped, “I swear, I almost thought that he had broken in right here and now or something!”

‘Lies! I sound nothing like that!’

“Yeah! Wait, say something more!” Mr. Sinnett added, suddenly watching the doctor with great interest. As if controlled by a hive-mind, most of the other Lodgers followed suit and focused -to the best of their ability, at least- at the doctor.

“Uh...” The doctor hesitated for a second, before clearing his throat. Technically, this would be a great way to get back at Hyde for yesterday... So he quickly put on a grin and continued to mimic his alter ego, although a lot more mockingly this time, “Oh wow, look at me, I’m Edward Hyde! I’m an annoying git and a brat, don’t tell me what to do, I’m the spirit of London at night!”

No one could be sure if it was the alcohol, the late evening which more or less was just an early night by now, or Henry’s actual mimicking of the blond man that got them to laugh so hard but the room soon erupted in howls of laughter. It sounded exactly like Hyde, although with a much whinier voice, and yet hearing the insults in such a way just got the drunkards of the Society to roar with laughter. The doctor was quite sure that he could even hear Mr. Griffin wheezing somewhere in the corner.

“Do it again! Do it again!”

“My name is Edward 'yde, butcher's hook a' me funny an' I’ll kill you wi'h my bare mitts! who are you lookin a'? 'aH DARE YOU CALL ME SHORT?”

‘JekYLL I SWEAR-’

More roars of laughter. Even those who weren’t drunk, such as the misses by the tea table, began to almost shriek with laughter at the doctor’s perfect imitation. No one was sure if it was the words, the voice, the accent or the fact that it was Dr. Henry Jekyll who was dragging Hyde through the mud that made it so funny. Truth be told, it was most likely the alcohol in the end. At least that’s what was most affecting Dr. Jekyll, who couldn’t help but to laugh along too, especially when Lil’ Mister Hyde in his head kept complaining and whining.

“How do you do that?” Miss Lavender then asked, being the first one to calm down from her fits of giggles. The doctor just grinned brightly and almost smugly.

“I guess I might just have heard enough of his voice to mimic it.” He shrugged, although he then snorted softly and continued to make up his voice, tilting his head from side to side as he made his voice extra whiney, just to annoy his counterpart, “Oh my god, I 'ave 'o stay inside faw 'wo weeks cause I’ll ge' arrested o'herwise? dis is 'errible! 'ah dare you expec' me 'o no' wan' 'o ge' absolu'ely murdered by 'he copper because I li' an en'ire neighbourhood on fire!”

Despite it not being all that funny, the drunkest of the Lodgers continued to laugh. Miss Lavender just shook her head and tooted softly but not even she could hide the smile that was on her lips. Not even she could remember the last time they had seen their Henry Jekyll so happy and open with them, which said a lot because she was one of the longest staying residents of the Society for Arcane Sciences. Even then, she wasn’t complaining at all. Although she definitely could complain about the amount of noise that erupted from the table with the Lodgers who were drinking as all of them began to pile on requests of things for Henry to say in Hyde’s voice, ranging from words to bizarre phrases to things she would not want to recall.

Of course, it was much quieter for them than it was for Henry, who was currently getting thoroughly chewed out by the spectre that was currently floating around the room, incredibly pissed at getting mocked like this, and yet the doctor didn’t even acknowledge him. He just continued to smile and laugh and mock his counterpart, much to the Lodgers amusement.

They both might be grown men -or even the same man, depending on how you saw it- but it was obvious that neither of them were above making fun of the other.

After all, what was some bickering but mockings and mimicking?

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(Translation:  ‘My name is Edward Hyde, look at me funny and I’ll kill you with my bare hands! Who are you looking at? How dare you call me short!’

‘Oh my god, I have to stay inside for two weeks because I’ll get arrested otherwise? That’s terrible! How dare you expect me to not want to get absolutely murdered by the police because I lit an entire neighbourhood on fire!”

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