#I know he was aware of it because I’m in contact with his family

[laughslikeaseagull]

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[verstappen-cult]

If you are taking requests, i was thinking of a poly!lestappen. Where the reader is a F1 presenter and she's excited that Oliver is doing hus debut at Ferrari because its one of her favorite drivers in F2 and both Max and Charles get jealous. Like she asks Charles to take care of Oliver since he's still 18 and its his debut.

You still have forty minutes to spare until you have to go live, so, you make your way to the track, where everyone’s waiting for the Drivers Parade.

You spot your boys pretty easily, they are standing close but deep in conversation with different people. Max is talking with his teammate and Lando, while Charles is talking with Ollie. You really don’t want to interrupt but the Monégasque has already seen you, and for the looks of it, he’s telling the younger boy about you because he turns his head in your direction, a bright smile on his face.

“Hey, pretty girl.” Charles greets you, his arm finding your waist in a second. He loves having you close to him, touching any part of your body.

“Hey, Charlie.” You kiss his cheek, wiping the lipstick stain. “How are you feeling, Ollie? You did amazing yesterday!”

The british boy blushes, a shy smile dancing across his lips. “Oh, thank you. I’m excited and nervous too.” He looks at Charles for a second before turning to you. “Charles has given me some advice, so, I’m feeling a little more confident.”

Lewis calls Ollie’s name, waving at him from the back of the room.

“I’ll see you after the race, I hope?” The younger boy asks, and you nod. He waves goodbye to you and his teammate for a day, and walks away.

“Did you came here to give us a good luck kiss?” You hear your boyfriend’s voice behind you and then a kiss being placed on the top of your head.

“You know it’s something that would never change.” You stand on your tiptoes, kissing Max’s lips briefly, turning to Charles you do the same. “but I also came here to tell you to take care of Ollie,” You say looking at your brown-haired boyfriend. “But you are already doing a good job, so,” This time you look at Max, giving him your best puppy eyes. “Would you do that for me? Just wish him good luck or something before the race, I’m sure he would appreciate that.”

Charles and Max look at you with eyebrows raised, confusion in his eyes.

“What?”

“You came here for that?” Charles says, sounding a little hurt.

“I came here to give my boyfriends a good luck kiss like I always do,” You try to explain that by talking slowly. “But I also came for Ollie. I’ve known him and his family for as long as I’ve known you two.”

But that’s not enough for them, because Max rolls his eyes and looks away.

Okay. They’re acting weird.

“Wait,” You try not to laugh when a thought crosses your mind. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

They avoid making eye contact.

“Oh my God,” And this time you laugh, because you can’t believe it. Sometimes you forget how childish they are. “You are jealous of an eighteen year old boy. Are you aware of that?”

“Well, when you say it like that…”

You shake your head, closing the distance between you and Charles to kiss him one last time. You do exactly the same with Max.

“Good luck, pretty boys.” They watch you walk away, but then you are turning around, stopping to glare at them. “If you don’t take care of Ollie, we won’t be celebrating tonight.”

“What? That’s so unfair!”

“He’s the enemy!”

[astraystayyh]

please fall before i fall

jeongin x reader. best friends to lovers. they think it's unrequited love so a bit of angst. but they're just idiots. happy ending :))

summary : 3 times you saved jeongin's ass and the 1 time he saved yours (and ended up confessing along the way). holidays themed.

winter falls masterlist.

a.n. : i am very happy to finally post my first fic for the winter falls collab with my author xi hehehehhe i hope you'll enjoy this one <333 it's very light and fluffy she's the cute one!! oh and my song rec is i bet on losing dogs by mitski

One. 

Jeongin’s thumb hovers over your contact name, his rosy lip pulled tightly between his teeth. He hesitates for a few seconds before finally dialing your number. 

“What do you want?” you start which makes an incredulous snort escape his lips, a gust of powdery air materializing before his mouth from the cold. 

“How much do I have to pay you for you to come over?” 

“Ten thousand dollars. Cash,” you precise as he mouths along to what you say, already guessing what your next words would be. 

He's come to know you at an abhorrent speed these past few months; since you sat right next to him in your biology class, head buried in an oversized navy hoodie. Your perfume knocked into him like a gentle breeze— Sicilian lemon and white bouquet notes, nostalgic summer amid an unforgiven autumn. Memories of sticky fingers from molten ice cream and feet soles meeting the warm sand wafted in the air, alluring him to the kindness of a long-gone summer, you. 

That is why he talked to you at first, because you smelled nice, incredibly so. He tells you it's because he liked the pair of shoes you were wearing. 

“What if I brought you your favorite coffee?”

“Are you outside my dorm?” you squeal and he imagines you must be scrambling to get up, opening the curtains. He knows he's right as your figure materializes behind the window. “Hi,” you wave, a small giggle escaping your lips. He can't help the fond smile that draws upon his lips. 

He thinks he likes you a little. 

“Hey, please help me wrap my family’s gifts,” he pouts, waving the coffee in the air. Your order that he memorized by heart, not even meaning to, it was just natural for him to order you coffee every day, to remember your preferences as if they were his own. 

“Why are you here if we're going to your dorm anyways?” you laugh, leaning against the window. 

“Because I know I need to bribe you,” he sighs, angling his head to the side. “Are you not going to hang up and come downstairs? The coffee will grow cold.”

“I’m coming!”

An hour later, four gifts are resting beside Jeongin's figure, perfectly wrapped thanks to your skilled hands. He's lying on the warmed tiles, and you're right beside him, so close your knee brushes against his thigh now and then. 

He is keeping count, well, more so his heart, constricting in his lungs each time you touch. 

He's so aware of you, so much he's sure you’ve crawled into his skin, morphing him into nothing but a shell of you. 

Perhaps he likes you a lot. 

“You're an insane man. Who leaves gift wrapping to the last minute?”

“You're best friends with said insane man.” 

“Remind me how did that happen again?” you ask, propping your head on your elbow, and turning to the side to look at him. Jeongin has to pretend that the sight of you hovering over him doesn't affect him. That his eyes aren't drawn to your lips, heart dissolving at your feet, hoping to brush against your own. 

Please fall before I fall, he nearly pleads.

“Why are you so close,” he feigns disgust, pushing your face away with his pointer finger. 

“What? Does that fluster you?” you question, amused, bringing your face even closer to his. He scrambles away before a blush sprouts on his face, one he wouldn't be able to justify to your scrutinizing gaze. 

“As if. You're ugly,” his eyes squint, lips thinning into that particular smile he knows annoys you. He moves to the side swiftly, anticipating the shoe you throw at him.

“You're literally— remind me to never help you again, asshole.”

“I'm kidding. Thank you for today, seriously. I didn't know wrapping gifts could be this hard.” He falls back to the floor dramatically, banging his head against the tiles in the process.

“Well deserved,” you whisper. 

“I heard that.”

“Good,” you giggle, before gently massaging the spot where he has bumped his head. He purses his lips against one another, afraid of what words might escape the confines of his throat, vocal cords moving to the gentle rhythm of your touch. 

“Will you keep on being this clumsy, Innie? mm?” you muse, tone quieter. 

The nickname makes his insides churn, it is always so tender when it falls from your lips. No one has ever called him this softly before. No one has ever called his heart before you. 

He shouldn't be this clumsy with it. It is a fragile organ, akin to glass, easily breakable, so translucent— it'd be easy for anyone to peer inside and find you in it. 

“Yeah, I probably will.”

He'll stop liking you next year. He hopes. He'll try. 

Two.

Next year has come, familiar frigid winds pulling you to Jeongin’s heart, perhaps even more so than before, cementing your being into the nooks and crannies of his soul, perfectly so, as if it was destined for you alone to fill the emptiness inside him. 

Seasons have changed and yet summer remains, its essence stored safely within the notes of your perfume, it tickles his nose as you're seated on the countertop, legs swinging lazily while he scouts through his fridge. 

“Remind me why we're doing this again?”

“Because I made a bet with Yoon.”

“Your sixteen years old brother?”

“Yes.”

“You are in college.”

“I know.”

“Why are you taking it to heart?” 

“Because I have my pride,” he says solemnly, hand on his heart and you roll your eyes. 

“You literally begged at my feet fifteen minutes ago to help you.”

A year later, Jeongin stood beneath your window once again, phone brought up to his ear, hand hidden behind his back. You pick up on the first ring. 

“Look out the window,” he quickly says before you can even speak. 

“Hello, Y/n, how are you, Y/n, are you surviving with the cold—” you say sarcastically as you pull the curtains, the words dissolving in your tongue as he brings a single flower before him— you recognize its pink petals easily, Camellia, the rose of winter.

“I did not have time for coffee, but I plucked this off the sidewalk,” he offers, an amused grin on his face. “Help me bake cookies, pretty please, I'll be forever indebted to you. Forever and ever and ever and ever—”

“This is such a poor rendition of Romeo and Juliet, I'm afraid Shakespeare is suffering in his grave right now.”

“Do you think he knows of every theater play that was done to his story?” Jeongin muses.

“That's a good question actually. I hope he didn't see mine,” you shudder before your face pales. 

“You did not tell me you ever did that!”

“I'll bake your cookies and you'll never bring this up again.”

“Deal. My Juliet,” he smirks and you throw a middle finger aggressively to his face before hanging up. He shouldn't find it as endearing as he does.

“Because, my dear Y/n, this is my holiday reputation at stake. I kind of raised the bar last year with my gift wrapping.”

“You did?” you raise an eyebrow promptly at his words and he sighs, taking out the butter before leaning against the fridge.

“We did. Which is exactly why I need your help again. Imagine how embarrassing it would be if Yoon wins,” he shudders and a giggle finally escapes your lips.

The kitchen warms up at the sight of your smile.

“It's cute when you need me once in a while,” you say nonchalantly, hopping off the counter and moving to wash your hands. Jeongin freezes in his place.

“I always need you though,” he confesses quickly, swallowing the words, hoping that this way you wouldn't be able to taste the sincerity coating them, sticky honey dripping from his tongue whenever it speaks of you.

“Good thing you'll always have me then,” you beam, your words hanging into the air, oxygen suddenly harder to inhale.

“Gross,” he fakes a shiver, as his heart drops in his chest, breaks, and twists at the weight your words carry.

He'll always have you, but not in the way he wants to, your eyes would never soften at the mere mention of his name, and you won't think that a season blooms into every room he is in. He has you, but just a fragment of you, not how you have him, as a whole, heart, body, and soul. 

He's already fallen, a terrible, terrible fall.

“Will you help me or just stare off into the distance?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. He smiles bashfully, rolling his sleeves and sidling by your side to mix in the eggs, one by one, per your instructions. 

It smells nice in the kitchen, the caramelized fragrance of browned butter, sweetened by the sugar dissolving into the warm liquid. Tentative sunlight streams through the window, and it falls perfectly on Jeongin's face, highlighting his sharp features. 

Not that jeongin needs any additional light, he reminds you of spring, a flower blooming on his face each time he smiles, his dimples two youthful fountains the roots strive from, brightening his face even more. 

He tentatively glances at you as he adds the chocolate chips to the mix, only to find you staring forward. He misses the fond look on your face by a few seconds, the tinting of your features with soft hues of pink, of spring, of him. He always misses it, always misses you. 

Three.

"I can't believe you have 37 pairs of shoes but not one nice shirt.”

“It's 36, please count correctly,” Jeongin retaliates and you snort, flopping around in bed till you land on your stomach, chin propped up by your hand. Jeongin is still rummaging through his closet, head almost disappearing into the dark void of his wardrobe. 

“What do you need this for anyway?” you question, as you scroll through your phone mindlessly. Jeongin’s eerie silence causes you to look up. 

“Um. I have a date tonight.”

“Oh.” 

His words hang over the room like a heavy cloak soaked with rain, the oxygen sucked out of your lungs and ensnared within that singular gasp.

Jeongin swiftly turns around, before kneeling beside the bed, eyes brimming with a hopeless search— you are too focused on steadying your breathing to notice.

“Should I go?”

“I mean… Why are you asking me?”

“If you don't want me to, I won't,” he speaks in an overflowing sincerity, as though he'd willingly surrender the reins of his life for you to guide, should you only dare to ask. 

A breath, a pause, and he adds, “In case you'll be lonely tonight.” Your hope deflates in an instant, akin to a birthday balloon tossed into the careless hands of children. 

Pity, that's what he feels for someone who hasn't had a date in a year while he went on ones regularly. Although they never transcended beyond that first meeting, always a first date, never a second. He says none of the people he meets are his type. 

“I have a date too.” It was the truth, Suhoo had told you to meet him at the ice rink. You said you'd think about it. You knew deep down that your answer would be no, solely because he isn't Jeongin.

Perhaps it is too late for him to fall for you.  

“Really?” 

“Yeah, with Suhoo, you know, the guy in our Economics class.”

“He's nice.”

“Mm.” 

Could you lose something you never had in the first place?

“You should wear Seungmin’s white shirt.” 

“Yeah. That's what I thought too.”

“And bring them flowers. The rose of winter, maybe.” 

You had preserved the plucked flower he gave you in a vase. The pink of the petals liquefying and bleeding into the blush on Jeongin’s cheeks once he noticed. 

“That one's just for you.” 

Four. 

You're alone on the ice rink, the frigid winds assail your form, fingers numb from winter's cruel grasp. Suhoo didn't come after all, perhaps he was offended by you calling him at the last minute to confirm your date.

The chill of disappointment is more biting than the frost— you want to melt off the ice, you want your spring. You want your Jeongin. 

But he isn't yours, perhaps he will never be. He is too sought after, too captivated by the fleeting chase of someone new to spare a glance at you. 

But in this instant, you need him. You need him to hold your hands in his larger, warmer ones and get you off the ice rink. You need the sight of his familiar dimples and blooming smile. 

So, you call him. He picks up on the first ring. 

“Are you that bored on your date?” He playfully taunts, and his voice becomes a gentle breeze that stirs the emotions you struggle to contain. Tears cascade down your cheeks in an achingly familiar path. 

“I-Innie,” you hiccup, and you’re instantly met with the sound of scraping chairs against the floor, the hastening cadence of footsteps hurrying out into the street. 

“Did he do something to you?” He speaks so coldly, a tone so foreign to the warmth of your Jeongin. He shouldn't be tainted with winter too. 

“He didn't come. Can you p-please pick me up?” 

“I will. I'm coming in a bit, okay?” 

He finds you rather quickly on the ice rink, a sore thumb unmoving between the gliding bodies. He skates over to you, almost falling twice in the process. 

“You're so clumsy,” you snort as he stands before you, sobs racking through your body once more at the sight of him.

You weren't mad at Suhoo. You were heartbroken over Jeongin.

“I'll beat him up for you. I'll tell Changbin to help me too,” he smiles, hands fidgeting as they land upon your cheeks, trying their best to wipe away your tears.

“Please don't cry. I hate seeing you cry, Y/n, I really can't bear it." The tears only fall harder at his words, as if he's stringing them forth with each touch of his.

“Did he do something to you?” an unknown voice startles you and you turn to your right to find a girl looking at you then at Jeongin, a frown etched on her eyebrows.

“No, I'm her friend I didn't-”

“I wasn't talking to you,” the girl cuts him off and you laugh despite you, as Jeongin’s jaw hangs open, before closing once more.

“It's not him, thank you so much though,” you smile gratefully and she nods, eyes wary as she glares at Jeongin one last time, before skating away.

“I can't believe that just happened,” He exhales, a breath tinged with bewilderment, before he delicately encircles a hand around your back. Gently, he guides your head to rest against the comforting refuge of his chest.

“What are you doing?” you mumble against his navy hoodie, the one he borrowed from you. You can still smell your perfume on him. 

“I'm comforting you.” 

“You don't like hugs.” 

“It's different when it comes to you.”

You close your eyes, allowing the tide of his warmth to envelop you like a cascade of spring petals.

“Where is your date?”

“I didn't go.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I love you. I'm tired of looking for you in other people,” he quickly says and you peel yourself away from him, feeling as if his clothes were suddenly made of fire. 

“What?” you whisper, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I love you,” he repeats, each word drawn out, much slower this time, his hands cradling your face, tenderly, as though holding the sun between his delicate fingers. “I'm tired of pretending you're not my summer.”

“Don't say things you don't mean,” your voice wavers. 

“I mean it. I've always loved you. You complete me in ways I didn't know were possible, and I know you only see me as a friend but-”

Your lips press against his, a culmination of aching desires that have lingered for two years. Distant laughter echoes in the background, ice cream melting onto your fingers, a soft breeze ruffling your hair, flowers blooming under the soft caress of the sun— two seasons melting sweetly into the kiss.

“You're literally so blind,” you giggle against his lips, and his smile widens, your noses brushing against one another. “I love you too, idiot.”

“You love me?”

“You're my favorite season.” 

“Don't steal my lines.”

“Hey—” he kisses you this time, the winter is long forgotten. 

Was it ever a fall if you caught him in the end?

[lis-likes-fics]

A Deal’s a Deal

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Gold!Reader Word Count: 11.7k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, swearing, smoking, oral (f and m!receiving), dom/sub themes, degradation, virgin!reader, gun kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, Tommy is mean and she wants him to be ... A/N: So this was absolutely filthy and I will not apologize. I am American, but I used to British spelling for (as many of) the words that I caught because sometimes I like it better and it also just fit more for the fic. Also, when I say “gun kink”, I mean gun kink. This is filthy shit. Who knows? I may consider writing a second... Enjoy.

Keen eyes were the first thing Tommy noticed as Aberama Gold walked onto the yard, a sly smirk set in place among blond hair and a suit likely just as expensive as his own. The way his eyes surveyed the yard, examined every inch he could without touching any of it, even stopping by Charlie for a word, made Tommy aware it was for more than just surveillance.

Aberama finally approached, his men following after with their own vigilance. "I just took a look around. I like this place," he announced. "Fire for melting silver, canal to get it away." He stopped in front of him, well out of reach but just as imposing as the growing headache Tommy felt nagging at the back of his head. "How much?"

Tommy took a long look at him, still as a statue as blue eyes pierced through blue eyes. He considered not even regarding the question, moving on to more pressing business and pretending it had never been asked, but he knew better. Arthur drank from his flask.

"Nothing you see here is for sale, Mr. Gold."

He disagreed. "Oh, everything's for sale. Everything."

Tommy pinched his cigarette between his fingers, bringing it to his lips but not quite slipping it through yet. Aberama spilled the rest of the tea in his cup into the fire, which roared with the fuel to its flames.

"You tell Mr. Strong I'm going to buy his yard." He didn't leave room for debate.

But Tommy didn't care. "This yard has been in his family since they settled." He moved the cigarette between his lips.

"But I've decided to make it a part of our deal."

There was a long pause as the men stared each other down, testing the other's strength, their tolerance of cold eyes. The sounds of metal and fire and cups on tables next to them filled the silence and fueled the suspense of a standoff.

"Charlie?" Tommy finally spoke, calling to his uncle. "Charlie, come here." He obliged with a sigh. As he stood next to him with a dirty rag to clean dirty hands, Tommy continued. "Gonna spin a coin for your yard, Charlie."

Frustration was quick to settle at his words. He dropped his hands at his sides. "You're goin' to what?"

Tommy didn't spare him a glance, never breaking contact with Aberama as he spoke. "If it's heads, Abbie here takes all of this with my blessing."

"Tommy?" Charlie warned, upset.

"And if it's tails…" he considered for a moment, gesturing to Aberama with his cigarette in hand, "I fuck your daughter, Mr. Gold."

Aberama's grin fell. Arthur laughed, a stifled laugh into his arm at the offer. Tommy's demeanour did not change.

Now, Tommy was a smart man who did his research. He knew all about Aberama Gold's family, but more specifically about his daughter—and, even more specifically, about his oldest. He knew she was a primary school teacher, how that came to be, he was sure it was with the help of her father. He knew she was Aberama's firstborn, born from another woman he'd fallen for but lost too quick to be left without love. Lastly, he knew she was without a husband, or even a suitor with the potential of wedding bells. With how beautiful you had been rumoured to be, he didn't understand it.

He was shocked he hadn't already had you yet.

"You have three daughters, I hear, and Y/N is the oldest and also the prettiest, so I'll have her. So make her part of the deal and spin against the yard." He replaced his cigarette between his lips, putting his hands in his pockets.

Arthur was still amused. The same could not be said for Charlie as he stepped closer. "Tommy, for fuck's sake."

Tommy fished for a coin in his pocket, flicking it over. "Here, you toss the coin, Mr. Gold."

He caught it easily, staring down Tommy before moving the coin in his palm to examine it thoughtfully. Then he smiled, a slow smile spreading over his lips, ready to call a bluff.

Tommy shook his head, just as serious and solemn as before as he took in his grin. "No." He shook his head, raising a finger to point at him with grim intent. "Please don't believe this is a joke, the coin to us is sacred. Yes, Arthur?"

"Sacred," Arthur agreed, his eyes as still and as menacing as his brother's.

They continued to stare. Aberama continued to think.

Tommy gave his warning. "You toss that coin, you take a bet before witnesses, and if I win…"

"Then we'll insist that the terms of this agreement…" Arthur tried again, "wager are fulfilled."

Tommy's eyes held a threat. "Toss the coin, Mr. Gold."

Aberama considered, setting the coin on the crook of his finger and propping his thumb underneath. He contemplated, debating himself and his luck silently as the sounds of metal and fire raged against the silence and pulled the tension taut. Loud, defeaning.

"Tommy Shelby, OBE," he mumbled, still considering. Tommy saw the moment of decision behind his eyes before it reached his face. The challenge, the question of "Perhaps?" warring in his mind. Aberama smiled a small smile. "I'll take your wager."

The Shelby boys tilted up their heads.

Aberama flipped the coin into the air, watching as it twirled and twirled and twirled. The coin made its descent into his hands and he sighed as he closed his palm and slapped it onto the back of his hand. The coin seared his flesh as he stared at Tommy, hoping to see the right side of the coin staring back at him when he unveiled the result.

They stared, tense. "Well?" Tommy raised a brow.

Aberama removed his hand.

And his luck drained as he stared down at the coin tails up to the world.

He lingered for a moment, feeling the eyes on him burning into his skin just as the coin did. "...Congratulations, Mr. Shelby," he breathed. He took the coin and showed the boys. "Tails."

Tommy's lip twitched, although it was hardly susceptible to the eye. "Tails," he repeated, his voice darker than before. He readjusted his stance, regarding Aberama as he spoke to the uncle at his side. "Go on back to work, Charlie. Your yard is safe."

Charlie stepped closer, asking the question as though he was whispering it just to him. "Are you actually going to fuck his daughter, Tom?"

Tommy still didn't look at Charlie, watching Aberama intensely, as if to remind him that this was all his fault.

People seemed to forget who he was. They seemed to forget that you shouldn't fuck around with Tommy fucking Shelby, OBE.

"A deal's a deal, Charlie," he said. "Isn't that right, Mr. Gold?"

He stared back with fire in his eyes. "Aye, Mr. Shelby."

~

The cab slowed to a stop in front of the large estate you were an expected guest in. Looking out of the window and through the dark, your stomach flipped at the prospect of the meeting you were meant to attend.

Your father had told you that the infamous Thomas Shelby was interested in meeting you. You were grading loads of papers at the time when you stopped to look at him, frozen in confusion. You asked him why and he brushed off the topic like he hadn't even brought it up, giving you a time and date and leaving it at that.

And now you're here, staring at his house and feeling the anxiety of how this evening would go as you stepped out of the car and watched him drive off. You fixed your dress, straightened your spine, and released a breath before beginning the looming evening with a walk up to the door through the dark, guided only by the lamps outside.

You clicked the knocker three times, waiting with your clutch held tightly in front of you. As the door was pulled open, you were somehow relieved to be met with an older woman. Though her blue eyes were shocking and her quirked brow was intimidating, she offered a kind smile and you were put to ease.

You really shouldn't have been as anxious as you were. You were a Gold and a gypsy—if something bad was going to happen to you, you would know and you wouldn't be there in the first place.

But this was Thomas Shelby, and you were terrified. He was rumoured to be the devil himself.

The woman opened the door wider. "Hello." She looked you up and down before stepping aside. "Come in."

You thanked her quietly, walking into the house and glancing around. It was nice. "How may I help you this late in the night?" she wondered, clasping her hands behind her as she awaited your answer.

"Um…" You smiled bashfully but not without the air of respect you've grown into and been taught to demand. "I don't actually know why I'm here. My father, Aberama Gold, sent me to see Tommy Shelby. I am to have an appointment with him?"

She hummed, "Of course. Wait here while I go fetch him." She began to walk off before correcting herself, looking back at you with a respectful smile. "Would you like a cup of tea while you wait?"

"No, thank you."

She left.

You stood in the foyer, twiddling your thumbs atop your clutch as your heart skips in your chest. With a calming breath, you steadied yourself, closing your eyes and waiting patiently.

You swung a foot out, taking a step forward as you wandered farther down the hall to see inside the main room. It was large, decorated sparsely with paintings and tiny statuettes. You didn't get a good look.

When she came back, she was not alone. Turning at the sound of shoes descending stairs, you saw him.

He still wore a suit. Although his jacket was removed, his timepiece was still in place connected to its chain. His sleeves were rolled up—you weren't sure why you noticed that so clearly.

He stared at you with a cigarette between his lips as his cold, blue eyes pierced your soul. Your heart jumped again. Anxious.

He watched you, looking you up and down and taking you in. He brought his hand up to remove his cigarette from between his lips, releasing a long, smoky breath. The look in his eyes shook you.

"Thank you, Mary." His voice was deep as it rumbled in his chest. "You can go to bed now."

Mary looked you up and down briefly. She bowed her head. "Yes, sir."

You didn't break eye contact with Tommy as she ascended the stairs. Even when she was completely gone, he didn't look away. The intensity of his gaze was hard to keep up.

You looked away.

"Come," he finally spoke, walking down the rest of the stairs and meeting you. He lingered in front of you for a moment, as if he just wanted a closer look, before continuing to move. You willed your feet to do so, following slowly behind him.

He took you to his study just off from the main room, pushing the door open to allow you inside. You entered silently, glancing along the room to take it in. He had a library, a burning fireplace, plenty of sofas, and a large wall of windows. The drapes were already drawn for the night, and the large room was illuminated by a small chandelier. You set your purse on the nearest table.

You watched Tommy walk toward his desk in front of the windows. He leaned on it, crossing one leg in front of the other. He stared at you again, and you quickly became frustrated with his gaze as you sighed gently and stood across from him, keeping plenty of distance.

Silence stretched on as he continued to stare and smoke, and you were growing impatient as you stared back. The longer he watched you, unyielding, the more you felt the need to squirm. It was only when you broke his eye contact again, like you had before on the stairs, that he decided to speak.

"Do you know why you're here, Miss Gold?" he asked.

Now that this was finally going somewhere, you sighed. "Y/N, and no," you replied.

He raised his brows. "What did your father tell you, Y/N?"

You shrugged. "That you wanted to meet me and nothing else." His vagueness was really beginning to frustrate you after enduring all of that staring. Why had he stared for so long?

Tommy hummed deep in his chest, looking you up and down with a little nod of his head. He put it bluntly as he gestured toward you with his cigarette. "Your father lied."

It was your turn to raise your brows. "I'm sorry?"

Tommy reached behind him to put his cigarette out, stifling it against the ashtray on his desk. "Your father flipped a coin for a bit of property and lost. In return," he looked at you again, speaking slowly, "he gave you to me to fuck."

Your heart was slamming into your ribcage at the knowledge. Images of such a thing flashed behind your eyes, and your throat went dry. You looked down at your shoes for a moment, blinking rapidly as you stretched your jaw. "I-I don't understand," you confessed, releasing a humourless chuckle and licking your lips. "He… he wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't he?" he shrugged. When you didn't reply, he furrowed his brows. "Why else would you be here?"

You still didn't respond. He allowed you to process, though part of you felt like he was enjoying all of this, and you did not.

The anticipation started at your heart and spread through your body as it made a home in your chest, curling and writhing there in a bundle of anxious energy.

You swallowed thickly, "Are you going to hurt me, Mr. Shelby?"

He considered your question, mumbling quietly to himself as though he was mocking you, "Am I going to hurt you?" His eyes raked over your body, considering something silently in his head before he spoke again. "Come here."

You didn't move, otherwise frozen in place as you stared at him. Your disobedience seemed to astound him for a moment as he raised his dark brows and pointed to his shoes. "Here. Now." His voice was deeper with the command. He left no room for defiance.

Your body responded before your mind, not eager to see what would happen if you refused a second time. Your feet took you carefully toward him, slow steps treading the space between you until you were hardly a foot apart from him. His expression seemed to ease then, just enough to tell you that you were close enough now.

He took in your face from this distance. You could almost feel his breath. He spoke to you in a low voice, one that rumbled deep in his chest and resonated with you.

"I am a devil, but I'm no monster." Where you expected a crook of his finger to lift your chin, he gave you his hand to take a hold of your jaw and pull you close. "I won't force myself upon you, but if you agree to this, I will not be gentle. So, yes… I am going to hurt you."

You didn't respond—you couldn't. His words echoed in your mind and your mind warred with your body over what you would do in response and, thus, created none. You were frozen, staring at him as he held your face in a slight grip and held your attention in a much tighter one. You forget the fire burning smoke up its chimney. You forget the rows and rows of books lining the shelves of the office. You forget the clothes on your back, for his stare had stripped you bare for him to see.

He let go of your face, but you were not sure how well your brain registered that as you lingered in the same position, gripped in the same attention.

"If you want to leave," he said after a moment, "you'd better walk out of that door right now under the lie that the wager between your father and me was fulfilled. Hell, I'll even make you a cup of tea while you wait, and you can be on your way."

You considered that option. It would be like you never even came—except you did. And you knew you did. The stain of his stare, the hole he had burned into your clothes, into your skin, would never wash away. You would feel it every hour of every day as a reminder of the time you met the Tommy Shelby and lived not to tell the tale.

"But if you stay…" the corner of his lip twitched up at the idea, his pupils darkened and his voice deepened, "you're not leaving until I say you can." Even with their simplicity, his words made you shiver.

"Now, I will ask you once and one time only…" he leaned forward, his head very slightly tilted, his nose nearly brushing yours, "Are you leaving?"

As if you could say no with him this close to you. As if you could say anything with him this close to you.

Your options were idiotic.

Leave and live with the memories you gained here—the closeness, the silent obedience, the cold stare you could never wash from your soul. You would always feel it, feel him. He would never go away, plaguing your mind like a ghost of what could have been.

Or…you could stay. You could stay here and see what happened. You could let him ravage you, let him tear you apart and lick at your flesh and bone as he took you under his primal gaze. You could succumb to the ice in his eyes and let the burn of his touch mix together in some powerful, searing concoction. You would never wash his stain off, no matter how hard you scrubbed, but some part of you was alright with that.

And Tommy seemed to see that in your eyes.

He was amused as he shook his head, leaning back and away from you. He was teasing, you knew it now, heavily amused by the tiny reactions he earned from you as he pulled away to make you suffer a hint of withdrawal. It was with that distance that you realised you'd fallen in his trap, gone in too deep to turn back and be rescued from this tragic and ungodly addiction.

"No, you're not," he said—and, for a moment, you forget what he was talking about. "I can see it in your eyes, the same look your father had before he flipped that coin. You want to know what'll happen if you stay."

You seemed to snap out of it almost as you took a step back, establishing a bit more space as he revealed things you didn't want revealed. In doing so, you proved his point.

"You know exactly what happens if you leave. You go back to your regular life as a school teacher with siblings and a father to take care of." He chuckled silently, and you clenched your teeth. "No, you want to see how far this will go."

He raked his eyes over you for the hundredth time, and he knew the rumours were true. Pretty eyes, pretty lashes, pretty lips, pretty blushy cheeks. There was not a flaw on you that he could see. You were a beauty, an unconquered beauty he intended not to leave uncharted.

You looked away from him, glancing down between your feet and your hands and anywhere but his face as you processed his words, digesting them for what they were—the ugly truth you wished you could throw a blanket back over, swept back under the rug and hidden from view.

Tommy tilted his head as something dawned on him.

"Are you a virgin, Y/N?"

You kept your eyes on the ground, like you were watching his shoes—which you probably are—and shook your head. "I change my mind. You can call me Miss Gold." He could almost laugh at the idea, in fact, he almost did laugh. You brought yourself to look at him, your eyes stern with poorly hidden dismay. "And if I was?"

It made sense. No husband, no suitor, no time for one anyway. His lip lifted very slightly in the corner, and it felt like he was laughing at you. "The proper phrasing is 'and if you are?'" He leaned in, taunting you. "Because you are, Y/N."

You huffed to keep your eyes from fluttering at the effect he had on you. "How do you know?" you asked, doing your best not to sound as upset as you were. Your best was very poor.

He breathed a silent chuckle. "Because if I say the word 'sex'..."

You licked your lips and shifted your weight to your other leg, realising your mistake as soon as you made it but not showing it. You glanced away from him, and that was when you showed the realisation of your second mistake.

He pointed at you, ever amused. "You do that."

You thought for a moment over a way to say your next words without confessing anything—even if you knew it would be rendered unnecessary, as he seemed to read you like an open book.

"What if I did want to see what would happen?"

He inclined his head, lifting a brow. A small huff of a breath made up a tiny chuckle at your words. "Look at you," he said. "A good girl so bored she wants a go with a gangster."

You shrugged a shoulder. "All my family's gangsters and gypsies. It's in my blood."

He stared at you, cold and frozen like a statue. You stared back, gaze darting from eye to eye.

"In your blood," he muttered to himself.

You had no time to process what happened next. All you felt was his hand on the back of your neck and then your cheek against the cold wood of his desk. You groaned at the suddenness of it, stunning you completely—especially when his body pressed against the back of yours, crushing you against the desk and keeping you there.

Your breath was erratic, your pulse loud in your ears. Everything had happened so quickly, you were still catching up. The only thing that grounded you was the cold shock of something against the back of your head and the cock of a gun in your ears.

It was all suddenly very real—the anticipation, the suspense. You held your breath.

"Maybe I lied," he rasped in your ear, his voice just as dangerous as his gun to your head. "Maybe I want to see what's in your blood instead, eh?"

Your lips parted as shallow breaths passed between them, loud in your ears but likely nearly silent to him. You swallowed hard, frightened and exhilarated. "You're not going to kill me, Mr. Shelby."

"Oh, yeah? Why is that?" He seemed to press the gun even closer, trying to scare you some more. But you were a Gold, and guns to heads were not as effective to you as it might have been to someone else from a family that wasn't yours.

"Because you want to see what will happen."

Surprised by your answer, he scoffed. "Maybe you are a whore." He pushed his hips harder into you, thus pushing you harder against the desk. The edge of the wood cut into your thighs, aching and proving very uncomfortable. A strained breath grunted from you.

You smiled slyly, looking back at him as best you could. "Which is it?" you chuckled, "Whore or virgin?"

He took pause, shaking his head as he uncocked the gun. "No," he chuckled darkly. "Just a twisted little girl who gets off to guns at her head."

Your smirk dropped, amusement gone at his words. You furrow your brow, thoroughly upset that he would accuse you of something so crude. "I don't."

"No?" he asked before leaning in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and making you shiver. "Then why are you so wet?"

You stilled. You hadn't realised it until he said it, the wetness between your thighs, the arousal hiding beneath your thundering pulse. That tingling sensation of simmering lust was now weighing down on you like an anvil, a terrible sentence you wanted to escape but found yourself physically incapable of. Your legs trembled, but you couldn't tell if it was from the ice or the fire rushing through your veins. God forbid it be both.

Your silence made him smirk against your ear. "You really are," he scoffed again. "That was just a guess, sweetheart."

You huffed, doing everything you could to avoid clenching your thighs. With how close he was to you, his body pressed against you so tightly, he'd surely feel it. The shame was thick enough as it was.

"Fuck you," you spat.

He was not fazed by your aggression. "I intend to."

With a sudden burst of defiance, you pushed yourself up from the desk, turning around to face him. Your faces were so close, breathing in each other's scent as the both of you refused to back down. You heard him uncock his gun, tossing it onto the table behind you without breaking eye contact.

"This isn't the first time I've had a gun to my head, nor will it be the last," you told him. "And it's definitely not the first time a man's expressed his desire to fuck me."

"But it's the first time he's been able to, eh? Because before you had Daddy's protection." His hand landed on your waist, roughly pulling you toward him so your bodies were touching. It was useless to try to hide to fluster he put you in, but you did your best anyway. His voice was nearly a growl. "Well, where is he now?"

You shook your head, breathing shallow breaths. "I don't need his protection."

His smirk was small and taunting as he stared at you, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

"You do from me."

His lips crashed down upon yours as he pulled you close. Your surprised gasp was cut off, silenced by his harsh kiss. The feeling was foreign but not entirely unwelcome. Even as the force of his lips had his teeth smashing yours, cutting into the top of your own lip and greeting you with the taste of blood, you welcomed it.

You kissed back, moving your lips with his and following his lead but doing no more than that. Even if you had already compromised yourself, it would help not to encourage him.

When he pulled away from you, you chased his lips and felt the shame of it hot on your cheeks. He smiled at your eagerness, even chuckled at your breathlessness as he shook his head.

"My, my," he goaded. "You really do want this, you twisted little whore."

You shivered at his words and still denied. "And if I don't?" you countered, practically staring at his pink lips and proving him right.

He shook his head. "You should've walked out that door."

He kissed you again, silencing you once more until his lips had a moan clawing up your throat. He placed a hand on your chest, pulling you forward just a slight from turning you in one arm and shoving you back.

You stumbled backward, catching your footing again as you stared at him between the long distance he had put between the both of you. It surprised you and now you were trying to put your mind back in order, as though it hadn't been scrambled enough from his kiss.

"If you want to go so badly, prove it to me." He pointed to the door, urging you to leave with dark eyes and darker words. "Run. Run away, before I catch you."

You stared at him, catching your breath and contemplating. He was giving you one last chance for an out, one last chance to turn away and forget about tonight.

But you could never forget what happened here, especially not now, and not ever. Staring back at his dangerous eyes, you made your choice, knowing there was no turning back.

So you would prove that you wanted to stay as you trudged the distance between you and closed it with your lips on his, addicted to the taste of him—the taste of danger and intrigue and all things twisted in the world.

His hand cupped the back of your head as he opted to devour you, allowing your fingers to work at the buttons of his vest to remove it. You gasped into his mouth and made your decision before your inexperience could talk you out of it, separating from his lips only to kneel down before him with your eyes locked on his.

Amazed by your initiative, he encouraged you by leaning his hips out as you worked at his belt. You fumbled for a moment too long before you finally got his trousers open, finally reaching what you were aiming for as you pulled him from his underwear.

You stared wide-eyed at him as you took in the sight of his cock, the tip flushed red and the vein along the underside pulsing with his well-disguised lust. You looked up at him, finding him staring back down at you with those cold, dark eyes.

"Well, go on then," he mumbled as you continued to stare, conflicted between different courses of action.

Your body heat seemed to rise at the realisation that you were staring like a fool. You swallowed thickly, reaching a hand up and wrapping it gently around him, gliding your thumb along his tip and feeling a little more confident when his unyielding eyes fluttered. You continued on, rubbing your thumb at the head of him before stroking your fist along the length of him, up and down in a steady rhythm as you navigated what he liked and didn't like.

One of his hands cupped the back of your neck, urging you forward as your face pressed into his hips with the warmth of his cock on your cheek. Slowly, you kissed it, your lips gliding along the length as you took in the unfamiliar sensation. You slipped your tongue through your lips, licking along the side until you reached his flushed tip. Kissing the slit at the head of his cock, the bead of pre-cum there spread over your lips as you darted your tongue out to lick it.

You opened your mouth at the taste, setting his tip on your tongue and shivering at the feeling as you closed your lips around it. You built yourself up for it as you felt his heavy stare at the top of your head, bobbing your head slowly back and forth as you took the smallest bit more with each comeback. As he reached the back of your tongue, that tickling feeling in your throat began to tease you before the threat of gagging became too much to try to pass through.

By now, his cock was glistening with your saliva. As you looked up at him with eyes beginning to tear from your efforts, he stared back, lost in the pathetically illusioned look on your face. "You can't be done already," he said, his fingers tangling in your hair.

You spoke breathlessly, "Tommy–"

"No," he shook his head. "Not Tommy. You call me 'sir' while you're sat there on your knees with my cock in your mouth. You understand?"

You took in his authority, deciding whether or not you would listen. You began to scoff, "I'm not–"

"You will," he said finally, giving you that look that demanded respect. You knew, staring at him now, that he held the key to your pleasure. If you wanted to feel good, you would have to obey. As much as that annoyed you, it thrilled you all the same as he continued to look down on you like he was.

Your jaw ached with resentment, but you knew it was a front, you fighting the submission you were not meant to have. But you wanted it. You wanted him to break you down to some common whore, to strip you of your importance as a Gold and turn you into his plaything. But it was so firmly embedded, you would just have to keep fighting against it.

But that didn't matter right now, not with you on your knees with his cock in your hand.

"I can't do it…sir," you replied.

He raised a brow. "Can't do what?"

He was taunting you, insulting you by trying to make you say something you didn't want to say. It sat on your tongue like venom. Admitting what you classified as "it" felt like a new kind of torture.

"What is it you can't do, eh?" he questioned, even smirking at you like he knew he held all the cards. Because he did.

"I can't…" you swallowed thickly, bowing your head.

"No, no," he tsked, lifting your head with his hand in your hair to force you to look at him. And he wasn't lying before—he wouldn't be gentle. "Look at me and tell me what you can't do."

You huffed, speaking in a squeak of a voice. "Can't… take it all."

"What was that?"

"I can't take it all," you repeated, not yelling but not whispering either.

He smiled at you then, an evil, nasty smile that you wanted to wipe from his face. "That's all?" he questioned, laughing when you broke his eye contact. "Well, sure you can. Let me show you."

The exchange was promptly ended as his hand in your hair guided your head back to him as you took his cock in your mouth again, and he pushed you down, inch by inch, back onto him. You felt his tip pushing into your mouth, deeper and deeper on your tongue until he brushed the back of your throat. You gagged around him, feeling the sensations of the invasion rushing down your spine, resting in your belly and tingling all over.

As your nose brushed against his pelvic bone, your eyes welled up as tears spilled over your cheeks. He shushed you as you gagged on his cock, your throat adjusting around the intrusion. His hips bucked a couple of times, pushing his cock further until he could go no deeper. When he pulled out, you took as much air into your burning lungs as possible before you were interrupted by a few coughs.

As much as you wanted to slap him for the assault on your throat, one look at the pleasure on his face calmed the fire of frustration and fed the ache of arousal between your legs.

"Don't– do that again," you huffed, still catching your breath as you leaned forward on your knees to take him into your hot mouth again. You didn't go nearly as far again as you licked along his length, suckling around his cock and laving your tongue along his tip and the vein on the underside.

"The hell I won't," he mumbled, not the biggest fan of your telling him what to do but not necessarily put off by the idea. His hand remained a tangled mess in your hair as you continued to suck and lick and kiss.

You weren't expecting it when he pushed you down the second time, but at least you knew what to expect as you shut your eyes tight and took it, accepting the twisted pleasure that blossomed in your belly until he pulled out of your mouth again, keeping you back as he groaned.

You wiped your mouth off, staring at him with wet eyes and breathing through an open mouth. A deep breath exhaled from his lungs as he hoisted you to your feet, searching out your lips to bring you into another kiss. He turned you both around and pressed your back into his desk as he continued to kiss you roughly, pushing you back until you collapsed on the dark wood.

You gasped in surprise but barely had time to process as his lips continued to attack yours. His hands grasped the neckline of your dress, encouraging shivers down your spine. When he suddenly ripped and ripped at your clothes tearing them off you like a beast, you gasped and watched him turn your dress to rags.

It wasn't long before you were bare in front of him, save for the pantyhose hiding nothing from him. Then those were gone, too. Your hands instinctively flew to your body, trying to cover yourself up. There was really no reason for modesty, not now that you had already seen his cock and had it shoved down your throat, but this was entirely new and you would have rather liked a warning beforehand.

"Don't cover yourself now," he said as he entwined his hands with your own and pulled them away, spreading you out to see every inch of you with those hungry eyes. Your body trembled with the feeling of his eyes on your bare skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, whimpering quietly at the mix of emotions ruling you.

Where some would take pity, Tommy just smiled darkly and tsked gently as he leaned forward and began kissing your neck. Your mouth fell open as your eyes fluttered to see him. A slight moan caught in your throat escaped at the sensation of lips to skin and your hands struggled where he restrained them, wanting to touch him again.

His kisses were not so patient after a moment as teeth began to scrape skin, sucking and nibbling on flesh in order to mark uncharted territory. The pleasure it gave him to know that no man had ever done this to you before was intense, driving him crazy with lust, a desire to claim you as his hips cant into your own, pushing you further into the desk and otherwise hurting you—if you had not been so preoccupied with his kiss.

You moaned into the air when his hand tightened around your thigh, squeezing roughly as he groped and kneaded the flesh. His other hand busied itself around your throat and tilted your head off to the side, sitting securely there but not quite squeezing the same. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist nonetheless, though you didn’t know whether you were trying to make him stop or keeping his hand there, wrapped around your throat and effectively putting him in charge.

The hand on your thigh travelled up, smoothing along your skin until he reached your hip. It never stayed there, moving back down as his fingers brushed over your exposed cunt. Your breath stopped in your throat when you felt his fingers ghosting over your lips and gasped when you felt his middle finger slip between them before biting down hard on your lip in an attempt to silence yourself.

His lips brushed your ear as he spoke in his low tones. “You like being touched by me? Eh?” A whimper left your throat when his finger pressed into you, pushing past your folds and into the warm, wet feeling inside of you. You clenched around it, the feeling foreign and but so good. "You're practically a whore now. I did buy ya after all—cost me a penny."

Your legs trembled as he stretched you out around his finger, a second playing at your pussy before carefully joining the other. "A penny?" you stuttered. "I personally think I'd be worth at least two."

"Well, let's see then," he said, lifting his brows as he pulled his finger out of you.

You whimpered, granting him an annoyed expression at the absence of his touch so soon. "See what?"

"If you taste good enough for two pennies."

You stared at him as his lips kissed your chest, sucking on your nipples on the way down and continuing on down to your thighs. A shocked yelp came from you when he bared his teeth around a chunk of flesh, only soothed when he kissed over it.

He gripped your thighs and pulled them over his shoulders, taking your hips in his hands and pushing himself up so your body was nearly folded in half. He didn't stall you at all as he buried his head between your thighs, licking and sucking on your folds as he shoved his tongue between them.

Your head flew backward, banging against the table. You hardly noticed, even with the full throb at the back of your head, the slight dizziness in your brain. Your hands flew to his hair, tangling in dark strands and tugging him forward. His tongue was just as skilled here, commanding your body to his every will, as it was during his speeches while he commanded armies of men to join in his cause or to intimidate against their own.

One hand left your hip to play with your cunt, toying with your clit. He pushed two fingers into your fluttering hole, swirling his tongue around your clit as you moaned for him to continue.

"Fuck," you mewled, closing your legs around his head and digging your heels into his back. He didn't seem to care, not until you messed up. "Please don't stop, Tommy."

But he did. His fingers and tongue retreated as he pulled back, straightening his back and letting one leg fall from his shoulder, though he kept the other firmly held to his chest.

You whined, looking at him with shallow breath. You watched him lick his kiss-swollen lips as he stared at you with black eyes. The emotions in your belly swirled between lust and frustration and fear and intrigue. He was so intimidating and you wanted more. You wanted him to keep kissing you, to keep dragging his tongue along your wet pussy. But you also wanted him to push you into the floor and take you from behind, his hips slapping into you, his hand planting your cheek against the cold floor, his mouth whispering filthy things in your ear.

"Please," you whimpered, too desperate to care about how pathetic you sounded.

He lifted a brow, saying nothing and staring. When you tried to sit up to reach his face, he pressed a hand into your chest and pushed you down roughly, leaning forward himself to paralyse you with his dangerous glare. Even with his hand on your chest, you tried to sit up still to kiss his pretty lips but he wouldn't let you. Your thigh ached from the position.

"Please," you whispered again, a broken moan as the lack of pleasure became too much, welling in your chest and making your body tremble.

He tilted his head.

You let out a shaky breath, moving your free leg outward to spread yourself even wider for him. "Please, sir," you concede. "Please keep going. I want it."

He didn't continue. His eyes bore into yours and you shuddered. With a gentle huff, you handed over the last of your dignity. "Please, sir, I need it."

He lingered there for a moment longer before smirking. You thought he was going to kiss you when he leaned forward, but instead he took your bottom lip between his teeth and but down before returning to his previous position between your legs.

He began again with the same intensity, devouring you as though you were his last meal. You whimpered and moaned and cried from the pleasure he forced into you. As he shoved his fingers into you, spreading them apart and thus stretching you wider, suckling on your clit and kneading it with his tongue, a coil tightened in your belly as everything seemed to follow.

Your moans built to whining breaths—too high and pitchy to be real—but genuine nonetheless. He didn't let up or slow down, drunk on the taste of you and too far gone to stop just yet, not without his reward.

The warm, wet feeling of his mouth became too much, the suckling of his lips even moreso. You squeezed your eyes tight, arching your back as a loud moan ripped from your throat. Your breath was rough and forceful as it rasped in and out of your throat, and your hands clenching in his hair tugged and tugged as his tongue continued to work. The pleasure took siege of your body, attacking every nerve ending until you were naught but a pile of flesh and blood and bone.

The high slowly descended to bring you back to Tommy Shelby's study, his tongue at your pussy a distant sensation in the back of your mind before it burnt with oversensitivity. You tugged at his hair, grunting as you pulled his head away to catch your breath.

His chin glistened and his lips were plump with blood as he stared at your recuperating body. He pulled his fingers from your fluttering pussy, taking them between his lips to taste you.

"Too much?" he asked, not in any way sensitive as he stared. "What, it feels too good, it hurts?" All you could do was nod. He breathed a laugh. "Have you ever touched yourself before, love?"

You didn't have it in you to be shy as you shook your head. He didn't take that answer this time—not humiliating enough, you supposed.

"Eh?" he urged, lightly smacking your arse to get a proper answer.

You grunted, shaking your head. "No, sir."

"That's your first time cumming then," he said more than asked, watching your dazed eyes slowly return to the dull bite of their natural rebellion—though he knew he broke you down enough for it to be too weak to matter.

He still awaited an answer. "Yes, sir," you obliged.

"Well, congratulations," he said. "Most men don't know how to please, so most women don't get to cum."

You disregarded his comment, still stuck on the aftershocks of pleasure as your eyes wandered the room. You whimpered when he licked you again, suckling around your clit and earning a jerk from your body.

He sat up, moving your legs off his shoulders like they were nothing important to him. He wrapped a hand at the base of your skull and pulled you up to sit. "Come here," he said, bringing you close to his face. "Have a taste."

He pulled you forward and crashed his lips against yours, too rough but just as amazing as all the rough ones he'd given before. The taste of you was strange but addictive as you came back for more, even as he pulled you away.

Tommy backed away from you, leaving you bare and hot on the desk. His hair was a mess, and he licked his lips again. He gestured toward you. "Stand up." You did as you were told, steadying yourself on unsteady feet. "Turn around."

As you obeyed, he came up behind you and pushed you onto the desk again, just as he'd done before. You grunted at the impact and clenched your thighs at the effect it had on you. You hated how good it made you feel, his treating you so roughly, without a care to just how rough. You hated even more how much rougher you wanted him to be.

Your prayers may have been met with extremity when you felt his gun to your head again as he spoke into your ear.

"I could kill you," he considered, pressing the gun further.

Your heart kicked up, and the adrenaline took over as his unwavering voice promised your demise. You held back your moan and responded, "But you won't."

"Why not?"

"You need me," you insisted. He laughed. "It's true. You kill me, well I'm Daddy's favourite. There'll be war. You make me go, I'll just keep coming back to finish it. You fuck me now, your wager is fulfilled and you get to fuck a virgin. What man doesn't want that, eh?"

Oh, you were good. Even if he was going to kill you, your words were enough to persuade him otherwise. He pressed the gun into your temple and the clicking sound of him clocking it reverberated in your ear. You moaned a long, deep moan as you clenched your thighs tightly together.

He smiled, laughing quietly to himself as he shook his head. "A proper whore, you are."

"Then fuck me, sir. That's the purpose of a whore, isn't it?" You gripped the edge of the table when he pushed his hips into you, aching that same spot on your thighs from before and making your lust all the worse.

He lingered, the cold barrel cocked and ready. You held your breath and awaited his decision before he removed it from your head. You sighed gently, missing his warmth when he stepped away from you.

Your hips jolted when the cold tip of his gun pressed to your pussy, spreading your lips apart to see you still wet for him. With the gun still cocked, your heart pounded against your ribcage and you felt the anxiety building deliciously in your body. He hummed, considering something in his head. You stayed as still as possible, certain your breath was loud as you wondered what he was thinking.

You heard him kneel, hyperaware of every sound he made behind you. His hand nudged the other side before he was leaning forward to taste you again.

You whimpered. "You're a dirty whore for being this wet," he said. You bit down on your lip.

He stood again and bent himself over your body. "You got my gun dirty," he tutted, shaking his head like he was scolding you as he shoved the barrel in your face. You could see your arousal gleaming off of it, shaking at the sight of it so close. "Clean it up."

You didn't move, paralyzed by fear. He didn't like that. "Clean. It. Up."

You let out a wavering breath, "Yes, sir." You leaned forward slowly, not even certain you were actually moving, and stuck your tongue out the slightest bit. You shut your eyes, making contact with the gun and a tiny whine slipped.

He watched you do as you were told, licking your slick from his gun and loving every second. A tear slipped down your cheek, slow and beautiful. He kissed it from your skin as you cleaned the gun.

When he deemed that you'd done well enough, he uncocked it and put it away. Your body relaxed, all of the pent up energy inside of you calming a slight as the threat of so much danger lifted from you.

He slipped his hand around your throat and leaned into your ear again. "Such a good girl, crying for me" he husked in your ear. "I'm gonna make you scream."

You felt the head of his cock push between your folds, coating himself in your slick, and there was plenty to go around. He straightened his spine as he took a hold of your hips, just as rough as you were expecting, before he shoved his cock into you. You moaned loudly as the harsh drag of his cock invaded your cunt, stretching you out around him.

"Fuck," you cried, gripping the desk harder. He held you steady as he fucked into your tight pussy, snapping his hips in and out of you without sparing a second for you to adjust. The slick you'd gathered would have to do.

You clenched down on him, thighs aching and trembling and becoming too much already as the tears built in your eyes.

Chants and cries of "yes" and "more" and "harder" spilled from your mouth and into the air, a loud and filthy cacophony of blasphemous praise. He held you down and he held you still, dominating your body as your new god as he ruined you for any man.

"You want more? Sure you do, so desperate for a fuck," he taunted, his harsh words accompany the harsh smacks of his hips. It was loud and continuous and it felt so good. "Such a dirty little thing, filthy and twisted. You like having a gun to your head, you like me being mean to ya. Where's all that pride gone, eh?"

The tears streamed down your face, decorating you in a way that Tommy could only describe as "beautiful".

"That's right. Cry for me, little whore," he grunted.

You did. Your thighs hurt and your throat is sore and your fingers ache from grasping the desk so hard, but you cried for him and the overwhelming pleasure, a depraved sound he fed from.

One of his hands left your hip to toy with your clit as he pressed his chest to your back. He bit the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, cruel and uncaring, before kissing the spot like an absent-minded apology. Your voice was raspy as he drew quick circles at your clit, chasing your next high as though it were unattainable.

And who knows? With Tommy, it might be.

"More," you begged, despite the loss of breath in your lungs, despite the haze of your mind. You chased the pleasure, pleading for it to swallow you whole as you took all that he gave you. "Please, sir, more." He cursed under his breath.

That crashing high from before curled in your belly again, hot and searing, like molten lava. You shuddered when it erupted, squeezing around his cock as you nearly sobbed. "Ahh, fuck!" Your head went fuzzy at the sensations as you gushed around him, sucking him in tighter.

Tommy grunted, his hips stilling before he pulled out of you. You thought he was done, but he seemed far from it as he wrapped his arm around your midsection, lifting you from the table and turning. You thought he was heading for the sofa, instead he lowered you to the ground on your hands and knees, which shook with the aftershocks of an orgasm you were still recovering from.

He pressed down on your back, pushing you onto the floor so your hips were angled up. He grasped your waist, smacking your arse once and earning a cut-off shriek.

He steadied you before burying his cock in you once more, sighing from the warmth your body provided. You whimpered at the feeling so fresh after cumming, slowly adjusting to the pleasure as he fucked into you with the insistence of a starved man.

Once you settled into it again, you moaned into the sensitivity, easing the rock of his hips rubbing you against the floor with your palms planted on the wood. It was cold and hard but the way his cock brushed in and out of you was so electric that you didn't care.

"There we are," he said, guiding your hips quickly as he pulled you in against him. "Fucked on the ground where you belong. Don't you agree?"

You struggled with nodding—though you knew he wouldn't accept it anyway. "Yes, s– Ah!– sir." He rutted into you, his thrusts almost animalistic, and he kept on.

He leaned forward, bracing one hand next to your head as you reached out to grab it. His breath was loud in your ear, full of broken moans disguised as heavy grunts.

"Good," mewled. "Feels good, sir."

"Yeah?" he asked, a particularly harsh slap making you whimper. "You want more, you pathetic whore?"

"Please, sir."

"So polite all of a sudden," he spoke breathlessly.

When he pulled out of you again, you thought you'd scream. But he eased you up to flip you onto your back, standing on his knees and staring down on you. You watched him unbutton his shirt, undoing each button one by one until he was able to shed it from his arms. You stared at the bare skin of his chest, taking in his tattoos, his muscles, the light patch of hair.

Grabbing you by your legs, he pulled you into his lap after leaning back. He set your legs over his shoulders once more, guiding himself back into you before he leaned forward. Your legs ached from being put in this position so much—but hell if you cared, because when he seated himself fully inside of you, the moan you left out was deep and guttural. He reached so much deeper than before, brushing a spot inside of you that set your body ablaze.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close as his hips snapped into yours. His thrusts were shorter in this position, grinding into you and brushing that spot over and over and over again. You whined and moaned through every moment of it, your eyes tearing up and the tension in your muscles building.

Your hand splayed out over his cheek as you tilted his head toward your face, wanting to watch him as he fucked into you. His eyes gazed at you, the intimidation from before not quite as cruel as it melted into the intimacy of the moment. His forehead pressed against yours and you breathed in each other's air as he shoved your hips together.

The sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you were intoxicating, filling the air with a filthy cadence that mixed with the carnal pleas on your tongue and the raucous groans on his.

"Look at you," he said, planting his hand next to your head once more as the other held your hips up for the right angle. "So desperate, pathetically beautiful."

You gave him a drunk smile, looking between his eyes and lips. "You think… I'm beautiful?"

He rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless, shutting you up with a rough thrust. Your head fell back and exposed your neck, which he graciously nipped between his teeth.

You yelped when the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit again, sinking into a breathy moan as you looked between your bodies to see it. You looked back up at Tommy, allowing him to do as he pleased with your body, succumbing to his touch.

"Fuck," you breathed, clenching around him at the feeling of your aching clit being stimulated again. You weren't sure you could cum again, but to hell if you weren't going to try.

Your arms wrapped around his back as your nails took root in his shoulders, scraping down his flesh to find purchase for the overwhelming passion. The sound Tommy made was nearly a moan, which he covered with a hiss as he clenched his teeth.

You kissed him, lips bruising, teeth clicking, tongues flicking as you drank the pleasure. "I'm gonna cum again, sir."

He raised his brows, though his rhythm was wearing. "Oh, you think so, do you?"

You corrected yourself, kissing him again to add in your favour. "Please, sir, can I cum again?"

His grin was almost sinister as he regarded you. You were learning, and fast. His unsteady hips rocked you back and forth on the ground, and his breath was timed with each little thrust. You could tell he was going to lose it, so close to joining you as you encouraged him by clenching and squeezing, sucking him into your cunt and getting him addicted to it.

"Fuck, yes. Go on and cum for me, sweetheart," he groaned, giving you the permission you needed as the pleasure washed over you like a wave of fire.

Your back arched, your weak moan stuttered in your throat, and you couldn't help but utter his name as the ecstasy shook you. Your cunt fluttered around him, and your moan continued until it melted to helpless little whimpers which then dissolved into each breath.

Tommy buried his face in the crook of your neck when he came after you, growling in your ear and his muscles tensed under your hands. His hips rutted into you, sinking in nice and deep and putting you in a position that would have been fairly uncomfortable, had you not been so devoured by his deep fucking that you hardly even noticed. All you could feel was the pressure of his body on yours and the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, your cunt so tight around his cock that you milked every drop.

Slowly, his muscles loosened and his grip on your hip let up. He sighed, a long, deep sigh that released the rest of his tension as he began to straighten his back again. You stopped him, wrapping your hand around the back of his head and pulling him down for one more kiss. This one was so soft, a slow kiss that rendered your body useless. Everything was limp and lazy as the tender kiss changed the entire dynamic of the night.

It lasted longer than it properly should have as you both came in for more, treasuring it, cherishing it, until it had to come to its imminent end. He pulled away from you, staring at your face for a moment longer before he sat up, pulling out of you and making you shudder from the sudden loss and the even more sudden chill.

You stayed on the floor as he walked toward his desk and tucked himself back into his underwear. Your eyelids were heavy, drooping down as you lacked the strength to stand. As Tommy picked up his case of cigarettes, he looked at you over his shoulder, still laying there. Your legs were still spread out, your pussy dripping with both your cum on display and your arms framing your head. You'd passed out.

Tommy rubbed his cigarette between his lips before he lit it. His eyes never left you as he took the first puff before discarding the light and walking over to you. He knelt, tucking his hand under you to take you into his arms and set you on the sofa. He readjusted your body, your legs closed and one of your arms covering your chest.

He stood there a moment. You looked peaceful as you slept—absolutely debauched with your messy hair, tear-stricken cheeks, and swollen lips—but peaceful. Your face nuzzled into the cushion, and your lips twitched with whatever was going on in your head.

It took more than he would like to admit not to brush the apple of your cheek as he cleared his throat quietly. He picked up his disregarded shirt and draped it over your shoulders before choosing to walk back to his desk. He sat down and sifted through some files he pulled from a drawer to busy himself.

He didn't keep track of how long you slept or how long he sat there. He hadn't realised when he dozed off, tired out from you and from work.

You stirred from your place on the couch, opening your eyes and wondering why the floor was so soft. It took a moment to remember where you were, why you were naked, and why your thighs were so sticky.

Taking a deep breath in, a familiar scent filled your nose as you noticed the shirt over your body. You sat up slowly, pulling it to your chest and taking another deep breath. The scent made you dizzy, and you slipped it over your arms. The shirt was big on you, hanging low as you pulled it closed around your body.

Your body ached as you moved to stand, running a hand through your hair and stretching your sore limbs. Why were you so sore?

You took two steps, examining the floor and taking in all the clothes—scraps and fully intact—laying there, before you looked up and saw him. Tommy was passed out at his desk, bracing his face on his arms as he slept.

The events of that night flooded into your mind all at once and suddenly, everything made sense. You looked down at your dress of scraps again with a frown as you picked it up, rolling your eyes before using it to wipe away the cum glueing your legs together and discarding it back to the floor.

You padded over to Tommy, glancing over him and silently making your way to the window to peek behind the curtains. It was still dark out, so you hadn't slept long.

You returned to Tommy, lifting up his half-burnt cigarette and putting it out properly in the ashtray it was sitting in. You stared at him, watching him sleep.

You never thought the devil himself could ever look so peaceful.

You couldn't help yourself—you reached out and brushed some of his hair from his face. You just wanted to see him a little clearer. In doing so, he woke. It wasn't a slow waking like yours. His was fast, nearly startled as his eyes opened and his sharp inhale shocked his senses. Before he could jolt up to his feet, his blue eyes found you and his dark brows almost convinced you that he despised you as he granted you a hard stare.

But his expression shifted at the sight of you, after he'd properly taken you in and recognized you. He blinked away and sighed, sitting up slowly and leaning back in his chair. He tilted his head as he looked you up and down before reaching for his case of cigarettes again.

He picked one out, rubbed it between his lips, and lit it up in silence. And, in silence, you took it from between his lips and set it between your own. He stared at you, lips parted and amused—though, you had to look closely to notice.

"Apologise."

You stared at him with a raised brow, blowing out a billowing breath of smoke. He was surprised you smoke.

He looked you up and down before sighing and leaning back again. "Alright, I'll bite," he said. "What for?"

You took another deep breath before moving it again, blowing it out before gesturing toward him with his cigarette. "You called me pathetic."

"You are pathetic."

"And you called me a whore."

"You are a whore."

"You called me a pathetic whore."

He opened his arms, shrugging as he watched you. You raised a brow and blew out some more smoke.

"Apologise."

You weren't harsh as you said it, and you didn't look particularly hurt. In fact, you looked like a fucking angel dressed in his shirt, smoking his cigarette, and demanding he apologise for something you so obviously enjoyed.

He gave in, smiling as he rolled his eyes. "I apologise for calling you a pathetic whore…even if you are a pathetic whore."

You watched him for a moment, considering whether you'd accept his apology.

"I also want you to apologise for pointing a gun at me. Twice. And then touching my fucking cunt with it."

"No." He said it so simply, so finally. There was no way you'd get him to budge. "You liked it too much."

You thought about that and shrugged. Fair enough.

"I also–"

"Shut up and come here," he said, turning toward you with his open legs and arms.

You smiled and stepped between them, letting him take hold of your waist—even if you were still sensitive there because you didn't want to give up the affection. You guided the cigarette back between his lips, your fingers pressing against them as you did. He smoked it before taking it out and staring at you, blowing the air out as he thought.

Tommy reached into his pocket, digging around to pull out a coin. He handed it to you, and you shook your head at him. "That's not funny," you mumbled, stifling a laugh.

"Congratulations, you're worth two pennies."

"Fuck you," you laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I've already done that." You laughed again, shaking your head and ignoring the warmth in your belly.

You stared at him, rubbing the coin between your fingers as you toyed with it. He watched you think to yourself, biting your lip as your eyes so obviously flicked between his eyes and lips.

"Thank you, Tommy," you told him softly. "I needed this."

His smile faltered slightly as he continued to watch you. He sighed, unaware of his thumbs stroking patterns into your sides, "I didn't do it for you… but I'm happy to have helped."

You chuckled weakly, half-hearted. Looking down at the penny, you smiled slowly and held it up. "How about a wager?" His subtle amusement encouraged you.

"If it's heads…you get me a new dress because you ripped mine to shreds."

He let out a small scoff, shaking his head gently.

"And if it's tails…" you smiled. You lifted your leg, slipping into his lap as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His hands found your arse, pulling you forward so your bodies were flush against each other. Your eyes fluttered as his cock brushed your pussy, already exciting you for the probable future. You focused on him again, "...you fuck me again—this time naked."

He smiled and nodded his head. "Toss the coin, Miss Gold."

You licked your lips as you readied it between your thumb and finger. Your eyes locked for a moment between moments, drinking each other like forbidden wine. You flipped the coin into the air, watching as it twirled and twirled and twirled. The coin made its descent, you caught it, and you took a moment to close your eyes and hope before you let it show.

You couldn't hide your elation as you picked up the coin and showed him. "Congratulations, Mr. Shelby," you smiled. "Tails."

"A deal's a deal." His hand wrapped around the back of your neck and he pulled you in, "I would've fucked you otherwise." He kissed you in a mix of the roughness and sweet tenderness from earlier.

Between breaks, you sighed heavily. "Thank God because I need you," you confessed, kissing him again.

You undid his pants once more, this time pushing them down his legs and finally ridding him of them. He let you wear his shirt, refraining from admitting just how much he liked seeing you wear it.

The kiss was a mess as you devoured one another. He rocked your hips in his lap and you moaned at the pressure as his cock spread your lips apart. "Fuck, this is gonna be a long night," you hummed.

"Shut up and ride my cock," he demanded, not nearly as harsh as before but just as breathless as you now.

You smiled. "Yes, sir."

Peaky Blinders taglist: @lyarr24​ @runnning-outof-time​ @goblinjnr Tag yourself here...

[guksfairy]

word count: 1k

notes: JK is 22, OC is 21, Tsuki is Jungkook’s sister, secret relationship, mentions of a nsfw Polaroid, I love them 💕 (not proof read yet!)

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

Best Friend’s Older Brother JK who happened to always be around when you come over to hang out with his sister, Tsuki, even though he had a job and was an active final year university student

Best Friend’s Older Brother JK who would keep a constant eye on you two so the second Tsuki would step out of a room he’d make his way to you and grab your waist before kissing you with all his might telling you how much he misses and needs you

Best Friend’s Older Brother JK who knows your whereabouts 24/7 and consistently confuses Tsuki when he’s aware where you’re at but she doesn’t

“Ugh Y/N left her work jacket here. I’m gonna go to her place before she goes in,” Tsuki, grabbing her keys, making her way to the front door is stopped when her brother answers, “She’s already working,” nonchalantly while cutting up some fruit he craved.

Tsuki stood frozen with her hand on the door knob before slowly turning back to face Jungkook with her eyebrows furrowed.

“What?”

With a subtle panic Jungkook quickly fixes his composure and replies, “Uh I ran into her earlier and she told me she was called in to cover someone’s last hour,” avoiding eye contact he clears his throat hoping it’s enough for his sister to not ask him anything else.

“Okay well regardless I’m still gonna take it to her and probably grab a bite to eat. You want anything?” Jungkook shakes his head waiting for the second Tsuki walks out the door to run to his phone and text you.

Koo 💕: baby my sister is on her way to your work

Koo 💕: just take off my sweater before she gets there sweetheart

Best Friend’s Older Brother JK who lies to his entire family before going on their annual family vacation that he was feeling a little under the weather in order for his parents and sister to leave him home alone. His parents and Tsuki reluctantly leaving him alone with little worry. Tsuki texting you the day of.

Tsuki my baby🤍: hey babe you think you can go check in on Jk later today? He’s not feeling the hottest 😕

Your phone pings moving your attention from your boyfriends’ lips to your screen. Reading the text makes you giggle peaking your sweet Jungkook’s attention as he reads the screen. If only his sister knew the second his family’s car was out of view he had already called you to come over with a duffel bag full of clothes enough for 4 days and 3 nights.

Best Friend’s Older Brother JK who carries a Polaroid he took of you in quite the intimate moment. You laying on his bed on your back, his cock clearly deep in you with your face showing nothing but pleasure.

“Pleaseee I just want an energy drink!” Tsuki begging Jungkook for the nth time to buy her a drink. She didn’t have the best sleep the night before due to staying up all night trying to finish a paper she put off until the last minute. Her brother refusing to because “energy drinks aren’t good for you”.

“I’ll buy. I’m craving some gummy bears,” you’re heard from the back seat as Jungkook parks the car in front of the store.

“Really?” Tsuki’a face lighting up with joy before her brother takes out his wallet handing it to you.

“It’s fine. Here,” his sister staring awkwardly at his hand extended to you instead of his own blood relative before snatching it making him panic.

“Give it back,” his tone was supposed to be stern but his sister unbuckles her seatbelt before leaving the car with the promise of grabbing your desired snack as well.

“Are you trying to be obvious baby?” you giggle hitting his shoulder lightly.

“Sweetheart I suggest you chase after Tsuki right now and grab my wallet,”

“What? Why? She’s just gonna get snacks,”

“Your Polaroid is in there,”

“The one you took of us at our picnic date?” already in a slight panic you get ready to catch up to your friend.

“No, the one where I’m fucking you raw,” he says it like it’s almost nothing before laughing when you whine his name and get out of the car as fast as you could to get your boyfriend’s wallet out of his sister’s grip.

Best Friend’s Older Brother JK who pokes the inside of his cheek when his sister tries to talk you into a date with a guy from her graphic design class.

“Oh he’s so dreamy! Besides you need some,” she stirs the pancake mix she’s preparing for her best friend and brother.

Her brother, with his eyes on his phone screen, trying to block out his sister’s intention of setting up his girlfriend with another guy. Clearly not being able to when he slams him phone on the table placing all his attention to your conversation.

“Why don’t you date him then?” Jungkook says before you could even answer her previous suggestion.

“No. Seongmin is cute but he’d be way better with Y/N. I mean he did ask for your name last week when you walked me to class,” she smiles and winks at you before turning to the stove ready to make the delicious breakfast.

“He did?” your response made Jungkook look at you clearly reading why do you care?

“He did! Oh Y/N you’re so getting a boyfriend,” your friends excitement was cute but your boyfriend who had a pout on his cute face made you melt.

“I don’t think I need one,” getting up from your chair you give a quiet kiss to Jungkook’s temple and make your way to help Tsuki.

Jungkook’s cheek a shade of pink while his pout disappears and is replaced with a cheeky smile.

[neiptune]

i got nothing to believe unless you're choosing me

cw: 2k wc, blank blogs don't interact, hurt no comfort (ish), something is wrong and tobio can't quite put his finger on it, excuse the angst i promise i like him

Kageyama Tobio has never been particularly skilled at picking up on social cues but he’s certainly learned how to read your cues. It doesn’t mean he knows how to properly voice his concerns.

Your shoulders are tense when he describes how the training is going in agonizingly specific detail over dinner, the inflection clothing your good morning and have a good day hasn’t been particularly warm or affectionate lately, even when his body felt heavy from muscle fatigue, as if he was trying to move through mud, but he still suggested a comfortable movie night on the couch, you refused and went to bed early because you were tired. What could be possibly tiring you?

Tobio doesn’t mean to be an asshole but knows he can easily come off as one, so he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t get annoyed when you anticipate his usual goodbye kisses by briefly pressing your lips to his cheek, doesn’t investigate further when you start suspiciously timing your morning showers just perfectly to miss the exact moment he usually heads out. You still make him breakfast and pack his lunch and reply to his texts and pick up when he calls.

But you barely touch him anymore and it’s with a heavy heart that Tobio realizes that it’s almost never him that initiates physical contact anyway. It’s easy to melt in your hands and nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck and tighten his arms around your frame once you climb on top of him or gently cradle his face or start running your fingers through his hair.

You ask questions and reply when he asks about your day, friends, family, but you don’t smile as often and when you do it doesn’t even reach your eyes. He doesn’t remember the last time he heard your laugh.

There’s a weird feeling infiltrating his heart and it sucks that Tobio only realizes something is wrong when focusing becomes increasingly hard. He doesn’t see the ball or the court just as clearly, can’t think of how to run his team’s offense, suddenly forgets all the Italian vocabulary he’s worked so hard to master.

There’s an odd emotion that clutches his chest, it’s cold and it scares him because he knows that, whatever it may be, it’s his fault. Somehow, he has disappointed you. You, of all people. The person who moved across the freaking globe to support his career, who accepted to leave family and friends and life behind out of nothing but love. Fuck. What did he do? How did he do it?

Tobio wants to ask but he doesn’t know how. And suddenly his world seems on the edge of shattering, so much that he thinks leaving you alone and giving you time to figure it out on your own isn’t exactly proving to be a successful strategy. You’re drifting away and Tobio isn’t sure you aren’t already where he cannot reach you.

The apartment you share is significantly close to the gym and it came fully furnished. Yet you insisted on adding some little personal touches, dragging him to ikea over the weekend and asking him opinions on napkins, bath mats, duvet covers, dish towels. You’ve never been one of those people who ask for someone else’s thoughts only to follow your own taste in the end and that is why he actually felt invested enough to pick things he actually liked, albeit hesitating, hyper aware of just how differently you would’ve picked. But you never once faltered as he pointed towards the less exciting, not really colorful options.

“You’re back early” is the soft greeting Tobio gets as he takes his shoes off, leaves the gym bag by the door because he knows if he’s a second too late the courage will melt away and leave him a sweaty, timid, confused coward.

“I’m not very hungry but we have some leftovers you can heat up” your eyes have only shortly darted to him before settling on the show you’re watching on tv once more.

“I was hoping we could talk” he feels a weird lump in his throat and suddenly swallowing seems hard. Is his voice coming out weird too? It feels weird. Like he’s watching the whole scene from the outside, you turning to look at him as he mechanically makes his way to the couch, sits reasonably afar from you.

You look at him with what feels a weird mix of apprehension and distress. Are you anticipating the topic? Would you have preferred to be the one to bring this all up? But just how much longer did you want him to wait, exactly?

The tv is turned off.

“Yeah. Yes, we should talk”

Tobio recalls feeling nervous a couple of times in his life, maybe the worst anxiety he’s ever felt was the one creeping onto him the night before the 2021 Tokyo olympics. But this? This feels so much worse. It’s dreadful. There’s no outcome he can predict, only one he can pray against.

“Something is wrong and I want to know what it is” he knows he’s picked the wrong words, the wrong tone, from the sigh you heave. “I mean, I feel that something isn’t right. Please tell me how to fix it” and then, much more quietly, “I miss you”.

Your eyes soften at that but, much to his horror, also fill with fresh tears.

He’s made you cry before. Out of anger, frustration, petty arguments, sharp edged comebacks. But right in this moment Tobio feels you’re about to tell him there’s nothing to fix anymore, that it’s too late. Those are the kind of tears he’s never made you shed.

“What did I do?” his uniform sticks uncomfortably to his sweaty back, he didn’t shower in order to get home as fast as he could.

“You didn’t do anything, Tobio”

Well, that’s not exactly the truth, but he didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. Nothing you haven’t been used to throughout the years spent together.

“Please. I really want to understand” it scares me he wants to add.

“This is nothing I can hold you accountable for. It’s always been like this, after all”

“What has always been like this?”

“My place in your life” you smile sadly with a slight shrug of the shoulders “I always come second. It’s fine, I know I do, really. I guess it has just been weighing extra heavy lately”

Tobio blinks once, twice, genuinely surprised and even more confused. “I love you” he articulates slowly, as if to express what should be the most obvious thing on earth “the only person I love as much as you is my sister. But it’s different, she’s family”

“I would never expect you to love me more than it” you carry on as if he never interrupted “volleyball was there first, I get it. Please know I actually get it. But it’s just… not always easy”

Tobio gets that feeling he sometimes gets when trying to fall asleep, the oh-no-I’m-plummeting-from-a-fucking-skyscraper one. His body jerks the same way, an involuntary contraction to the last words he was expecting to hear. “I don’t understand” because volleyball is different too. It’s a comparison his brain can’t process the right way. You’re the person he’s in love with, volleyball is the one thing he has dedicated his entire life to. He doesn’t dare put you both on a scale.

“I know you don’t” you reply softly, cheeks now stained with tears that put a knife through his heart “and maybe it’s on me because what else did I expect?”

“I love you” Tobio scoots closer now, takes your hands in his “I will be better at proving you how much I love you” it sounds desperate and pathetic even to him as you shake your head.

“And I love you, Tobio. But you’re just… never here. You’re either training or staying for extra trainings or on the road or playing, always playing. You forgot my birthday, which is no big deal because I know how tired you were and it’s not like it hasn’t happened before. But then you forgot our anniversary. You forget the promises you make. You don’t come home for dinner or meet me at the restaurant or pick up the groceries. You can barely keep your eyes open while I tell you about my day” he watches you choke up on your words and it’s like someone is toppling a bucket of iced water over his head. So he was right. It is his fault. But he did worse than disappointing you, he hurt you.

“I just think… I need to go home for a while. I miss my family, I miss my friends. And, well…”

“I promised we’d travel home for our anniversary” he murmurs, realization hurting his chest and twisting his insides. He tightens his hold over your hands.

“Yeah” you offer another grim smile “yeah, you did”

Tobio has no idea how to fix any of this. He just knows he might lose you forever if you step on that plane without him and the thought alone is enough to make his eyes fill with tears too. “Don’t go. Please, I’ll make arrangements, take some time off, and we can go together. I promise-” he shuts his eyes the second the word leaves his mouth, disgusted. This is what he has sounded like for the past months. He feels sick.

“I have my ticket ready. I need to go alone, I think it will do me good” your thumb travels over his uncharacteristically chapped knuckles “I might even surprise Suga at his school”

But all Tobio hears is that you’re leaving. Without him. “Don’t do this. I need you” he flinches when you free one of your hands to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t think that’s true, Tobio. I think you have one priority in your life and that it’s unfair to ask everyone else to be okay with being eternal seconds”

“I don’t love it more than I love you” he bites “it’s a fucking stupid comparison. It’s a sport and you’re a person”

“Would you stop playing if I asked you to?”

He stays silent, petrified. That question also feels unfair and so unlike you. “You would never do such thing”

You chuckle but there’s no actual humor in your laugh. It’s empty and so exhausted. “You’re right, I’d never. But that still isn’t the answer I would’ve hoped to get”

“So what, if I don’t give up on my entire life it means I don’t love you enough? Is this the yardstick by which you’ll decide if you’ll break up with me or not?” he hopes he seems angry because he’s desperate more than anything else. He feels inadeguate and, for the first time, wrong for you. Like you’re a perfect match but a one-sided one. Could he ever be a match for anyone, honestly?

“But I did give up on my entire life, didn’t I?” you lean forward, press your forehead to his shoulder because looking into his pained eyes is torture “for something that now feels like the shell of what we once had. You say you miss me but I’ve been missing you for far longer, Tobio”

He aches for the way your body shakes as you try to muffle your sobs, his arms around you don’t feel nearly enough. Tobio wishes he could rip his chest cavity open and tuck you inside, right next to what’s sure is a bruised heart. Maybe then you’d believe how deeply sorry he is. Maybe then you’d feel loved once more, you’d be safe from his selfishness.

“Don’t leave me” Tobio whispers it into your neck, lips grazing your skin. He wants to be better, knows he can be better. “I wouldn’t be who I am without you”

“I don’t want to stay and end up hating this, or you. I want to shield the love I have for you and I can’t do that if I stay here. It's like I'm... fading” your voice isn’t but a murmur “you understand, right, Tobio?”

He shuts his eyes, time and space and his house and the room you’re both in cease to exist. He doesn't. But he thinks the least he can offer, at this point, is understanding.

“Yes. I do”

[harrywavycurly]

To tell the world we are engaged I think an insta post would be fine but the Vogue thing is so good for after the wedding and everything is done? So Harry isn’t single one day then all of a sudden married the next and really upset fans?

Hiii lovey!! Okay so I hope you like this, it’s a mix of a little blurb and also an instagram post where y’all let the world know about the engagement and allow yourself to see how fans and people react! 💖

-find all things Lonely here✨

*if the ring in the instagram isn’t your style that’s okay you can just imagine any ring you want I just used one that looked like it could be family heirloom type vibes*

A/N: You post your ring on instagram and Harry claims you didn’t tell him you were going to do it, enjoy✨

You bite your bottom lip as you hit the share button and watch as the screen on your phone takes you back to your instagram page, you smile as the photo of your engagement ring pops up at the top of your page letting you know the post has been uploaded and is now live. You know people will start to see it pretty quickly, having gained quite a following over the years thanks to your friendships with both Niall and Harry. Ever since Niall posted a video of you talking to Harry in the background of a random backstage video during the One Direction days you became well aware of the fact most of your followers just came to your page in hopes of getting a glimpse of either of the boys, and you don’t mind because for the most part they didn’t bother you much besides a few “where’s Harry?” Or “when is the 1D reunion?” comments under your posts. But that was more than likely all about to change with the photo and caption you just posted because the news of you and Harry getting engaged was going to be a bigger shock to the fans than it was to your friends and family because at least they could kind of see it coming.

“Baby?” Harry’s voice startles you as you slide your phone into the pocket of your pajama shorts. “You okay?” He asks as he watches you from the doorway of your closet with his arms crossed over his chest and a quirked brow.

“Yeah I’m fine.” You answer a little too quickly for his liking as you bend down and grab your slippers from the bottom shelf of the built in shelves you’re standing in front of. You don’t look at him as you slide your feet into them but you soon feel his hands on your hips giving them a gentle squeeze as he stands behind you.

“Do you want to tell me the truth?” He asks as he leans down and places his lips to the top of your head before his hands move from your hips and up your arms until they are resting on top of your shoulders. “Or do you want me to drop it?” You feel his lips next to your ear making you let out a sigh while his hands begin to rub your shoulders instantly making you relax under his touch.

“I was just lost in my thoughts that’s all.” You explain and Harry just nods as you lean your head back so it’s resting on his chest.

“Yeah? What kind of thoughts?” His hands continue to rub your shoulders as you close your eyes and Harry smiles when he hears you let out a little hum of approval when he adds a bit more pressure to his movements trying to help ease the tension he can feel in your shoulders.

“Just thinking of all the different reactions people are going to have that’s all.” Your answer makes Harry’s hands momentarily pause their relaxing rubbing of your shoulders causing you to open your eyes and turn your head so you can look up at him.

“Reaction to what?” You want to roll your eyes at his question but when he looks down at you with his eyebrows raised you can tell he’s not joking. You stand up and turn around making his hands fall from your shoulders causing a slight frown to take over his face at the loss of contact but it’s only there for a moment because when he looks at you and watches you place your hands on your hips and look at him with a slight squint, as if you’re trying to read his face and see if he’s being serious or not he can’t help but begin biting on his bottom lip because he knows he’s clearly missed something and when your squint turns into a full on glare he knows you’re not happy with him.

“I posted the photo just now.” You answer and Harry just nods and you know he has no clue what photo you’re talking about when he brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck so you decide to mess with him a bit. “I went with one from last week at the beach because my ring looks really good in the sunlight.” You can practically see Harry flipping through what the two of you did last week in his mind trying to picture the moment you’re talking about and you have to hold back your smirk when you see his eyes go a bit wide and a hand fall to his hip as he stares at you.

“The beach? You posted a photo of us at the beach? I’m like barely dressed when at the beach.”

“You’re barely dressed when you’re just running out to get coffee Harry the only difference is at the beach you actually fit the dress code.”

“Oh you love my short shorts don’t even act like you don’t.”

“I never said I didn’t. But you’re missing the whole point.”

“Which is?”

“My ring looks really good in the photo.”

“So you posted a photo of us at beach because-wait a minute you said your ring looks good? Like your engagement ring? You posted your engagement ring on the internet?”

“I did.” Harry just stands there and blinks a few times as you answer him while turning around and heading out of your closet and into the bedroom, leaving him standing there with his hand still on his hip and his eyes so wide his eyebrows are practically in his hairline.

“Sweetheart.” You roll your eyes at Harry’s extra soft and sweet tone of voice, the one he saves for when he knows he’s about to say something that will upset you. You place your phone on your nightstand before sitting on the edge of your bed as Harry walks into the bedroom. “You can’t just go and post half naked photos of me and your engagement ring without giving me a heads up.” You rub your lips together and grab your hand lotion off your nightstand as Harry begins pacing the width of the bed, you turn your head to look at him and watch him run a hand through his hair tugging at the roots a bit. “I thought we talked about just letting people find out when we walk a red carpet together or something after the wedding next year?” He asks as he walks around the bed so he’s standing right in front of you.

You look up at him as you begin rubbing in the lotion on your hands and Harry can’t even say he’s surprised by how calm you are because honestly out of the two of you in moments like this he is always the more irrational one, but he can’t help that he is always quick to panic. So him seeing you just casually putting on your hand cream and going on with your nightly routine isn’t anything shocking to him, but it doesn’t do anything to calm him down because all he can think about is how any moment now his phone is going to ring and it’s going to be Jeff asking why there’s a photo of him barely dressed and you with an engagement ring on your hand circling the internet. Because even though Jeff knows the two of you are engaged he wouldn’t be prepared for the media whirlwind of you randomly announcing it with a half naked photo of Harry.

“Harry.” You say his name with a bit sternness that you know he needs in order to get him to stop fidgeting with the rings on his fingers and to get his eyes to look into yours so he can focus on what you’re about to say next. “We talked about this last night and you said it was okay if I posted my ring so that the fans can go ahead and know what’s going on so it’s not such a shock for them to just find out you’re all of a sudden married.” Harry feels your soft hands grabbing his and pulling him closer to you till he’s standing between your legs and you’re staring up at him with a soft smile.

“When did we talk about it last night?” He questions as you let go of his hands, he is quick to place his on the sides of your face as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“While getting ready for bed.” You watch a small smirk form on Harry’s face as he leans down and places a kiss to your forehead.

“You mean while you were getting undressed? That’s when you decided to try to have that conversation with me?”

“I didn’t try Harry I did have that conversation with you.”

“And tell me baby how exactly did it go?”

“I said I wanted to tell your fans about our engagement-"

“And what did I say?”

“You said uh huh.”

“Right and then you said what?”

“I said I wanted to do it today and that it’s just going to be a photo of my ring and a cute little caption and you said yeah sure okay.” Harry lets out a breathy chuckle as his thumbs gently stroke your cheekbones and now it’s your turn to feel as if you’re missing something as you look up at Harry confused.

“Baby you had to have known I wasn’t paying any attention to what you were saying.” There’s a playful look in Harry’s eyes as he stares at you while he talks. “Your tits were out and you had on those cute little black and pink-”

“Harry Styles.” You snap as you reach up and place one of your hands over his mouth to stop him from continuing making him laugh as his hands drop from your face as you feel your cheeks get hot at his admission as to why he doesn’t remember having the conversation about you posting the photo today. “You really don’t remember any of that conversation?” You ask and Harry just shakes his head with your hand still covering his mouth, you let out a sigh as you drop your hand from his mouth and rest your forehead on his chest making him laugh as his hands begin soothingly running up and down your arms.

“Let’s look at this photo then shall we? See what the people are saying about us?” You feel one of Harry’s hands leave your arm so he can reach into the pocket of his sweatpants and grab his phone. “Oh you cheeky little thing that’s just a photo of your ring not of us at the beach.” He gives your arm a playful pinch making you laugh as you sit up a bit and turn your head so you can rest your cheek on his chest as he holds his phone so the both of you can see the screen.

“As if I’d post a shirtless photo of you to announce our engagement.”

“Yeah that would’ve been extremely cruel of you. Letting everyone see what they officially can’t have.”

“You really are such a narcissist.” You mumble as Harry begins scrolling through the comment section and you bring your finger up to his phone to make him pause when you see one that makes you laugh. “Does that say-”

“Adopt me? Yes that’s exactly what that says.” You laugh as you tap the comment making a red heart appear next to it. “Love this isn’t your account this is mine.” His tone is teasing but your eyes go wide as you quickly unheart the comment but you know even in the two seconds it took you to fix the mistake that screenshots have been taken and soon fan accounts will be posting all about how Harry Styles liked a fan’s comment asking him and his fiancé to adopt them.

“Oh shit I’m sorry.” Harry just laughs and places a kiss to the top of your head as he puts his phone back in his pocket and leans over to grab yours off the nightstand. “I’m still getting used to the social media part of things when it comes to us.” You know you don’t need to explain yourself because Harry gets it, he knows you enjoy replying to people and liking comments that make you laugh and sometimes he wishes he could do the same thing but sadly he can’t or at least not like he used to.

“You don’t need to apologize sweetheart it’s okay.” He reassures you with a gentle squeeze to your arm as he pulls up your instagram and begins looking through the comments on the post. “Now let’s just give ourselves a few minutes okay? We don’t need to get too caught up in what people say or think of our situation because-”

“Oh that one says you have incredible taste in both rings and fiancés.” You tap the comment so a heart appears next to it and continue to scroll while Harry holds the phone in his hand. “Well that’s just rude.” You mumble as you read a particularly nasty comment making Harry raise an eyebrow as he tries to lean down and read it but you just keep scrolling making him let out a huff.

“Am I just holding the phone then? I don’t get to read any?” His voice is slightly whinny as he watches you scroll a bit more and then pause, when you don’t make any moves to scroll further Harry takes this as a sign to lean down a bit so he can read the screen better and the little portion of comments he can read make a grin take over his face. “I like the one that says you’re their favorite Styles because I agree and just watch you’re probably going to become everyone’s favorite.” You laugh and heart the comment on his behalf and then quickly type out a reply saying Harry agrees. “You’re sneaky love.” You just smile as you feel his lips on the top of your head letting you know he doesn’t mind your reply.

“Uh oh it appears I have stolen this poor girl’s boyfriend from her.” Harry reads the comment you are referring to and shakes his head at you disapprovingly.

“That’s not very nice you should send her a fruit basket or something.” You roll your eyes at him as you continue to scroll and randomly heart a few comments here and there that catch your attention.

“Me? You’re the boyfriend you send her a fruit basket.” You tease as you lean back so you can look up at him, he turns the screen of your phone off before leaning over and placing it back on your nightstand. “That wasn’t so bad.” Harry just smiles and nods in agreement as you place your hands on his chest.

“Can we cuddle now?” He asks as he leans down so the tip of his nose playfully bumps into yours, you drag your hands up his chest and to the back of his neck making him smile as you pull him closer to you so you can place a kiss to his lips. Harry smirks when you pull away and rests his forehead against yours “Or maybe we-”

“Don’t ruin the moment Harry.”

The photo you posted on Instagram:

[ferrstappen]

Max the wag (again)| Max Verstappen blurb

love note: I’ve loved the response to gossipy Max and (y/n) that I came up with this little piece 💘

YOU CAN FIND THE REST OF MAX THE WAG SERIES HERE

summary: a new break up hits the paddock and Max and you are the best investigators.

Canada GP, 2023

Max didn’t mean to overhear whatever was going on inside the four walls of Ferrari’s place on the track.

But if the information came his way, who was he to deny it?

He was mildly bored in between interviews and before FP1, not caring about interacting with people because you weren’t there, too many things to take care of, studying and being an intern didn’t allow you to be there with him. Still, he sent you silly pictures of him walking by himself (metaphorically since fans and workers were all over), he smiled at the WhatsApp sticker you sent him along with a picture of you, papers scattered all over your desk, iPad showing the F1 app.

While walking by Ferrari, he really really couldn’t help walking a bit slower as three engineers were enjoying a cigarette while loudly speaking to each other, motor and tool noises were ambient noise.

I heard she’d forgiven him once, after São Paulo last year.

What happened there? I keep hearing about it but i left to Abu Dhabi right after the podium.

Carlos and Norris contacted some girls and left with them or something along the way, kept it under wraps though but now? I think it was too much for her.

Shame, she was always polite and nice to everybody. She even knew our names!

And Carlos’ sister is getting married soon, he ducked it big time. I heard someone in the garage she decided to not go and his family is pissed.

It caught Max’s attention… he instantly recalled the conversation with you, trying to figure out if Carlos and Isa were still together. Clearly, they weren’t and the entire paddock was aware of it.

Maybe Christian could have more information about it.

But the first thing he did was to text you, announcing he had more information.

Info about what? Was your response, making Max’s eyes roll…

Sainz and girlfriend!

Max didn’t hear it, but you gasped at the simple text message. Max was very selective with the information he actually took seriously, and for him to tell you he heard something meant it was probably real.

Shut up! What did you hear? Who told you?!?!?

Max smiled, a smug grin knowing you were dying for the information, but he’d keep it for later, when he was laying on the hotel bed, fresh out of the shower, white t-shirt and shorts and ready to fall sleep. That’s when he was sharing the information.

He was surprised when you called him out of the blue and he chuckled, his gorgeous blue eyes getting smaller, little wrinkles forming, dimples showing.

“Hello schat, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Max teased, instantly taking in your neat hair, neutral make up and deep red lipstick… oh, what would he give to bite your lower lip and have his face and chest covered in faint red lipstick.

”don’t be coy! What did you hear? I heard the snippet of an interview and she sounded so broken it was so sad, but what did you hear?!” You rambled, making Max’s smile even bigger.

“I told you I’m sharing my discovery later, i’ll have to be in the car in thirty minutes or so,”

“I hate you so much, you can’t leave me hanging! I don’t want to ask her directly!” You complained like a toddler, noticing Max was just staring at you through the screen.

“I love you, I have to go,” Max said after he noticed part of the Red Bull PR team approach him. He was waiting for you to tell him you love him too, but your words weren’t exactly what he was expecting.

“Max babe, try to get info on Shakira and Hamilton!”

Honestly, you and Max were a match made in heaven.

[adventuringblind]

Misheard, Misjudged

Lando Norris x Leclerc Reader

Genre: Angst with a pinch of spice

Summary: Lando overhears a conversation and thinks it’s about him

Warnings: Lando’s self-esteem plummets

Notes: I’m aware I have things to do but I’m doing a friend a favor

Masterlist

Lando and the little Leclerc are everybody’s favorite couple. He clings to her every second of every day and she gets livid when her brother call her little. Younger then Arthur by a minute and she never hears the end of it.

Their families love them, the fans love them, but most importantly is that they love each other.

They met when Arthur started racing again. She was bored without her partner in crime, so Charles took her on as is social media manager. Needles to say they banter a lot. Charles’ fashion choices are horrendous at times but she loves him nonetheless.

Charles teases them all the time about how they are practically glued together. Which is probably true, considering they are like magnets in the paddock.

So in Lando’s head, it makes no sense why she would say such things about him. In their home. With her friends.

‘Sure he’s good looking, but like - is there really anything else? He’s so childish and whines like a bitch. Also, have you seen how clingy he is?”

He couldn’t listen anymore after that. Is he really that clingy? And for all intensive purposes, isn’t she also clingy? He never thought it was that bad. Sure, people tease, but who cares what they think? Or, maybe he’s just overthinking and he should just ask about it.

Scratch that - a terrible plan. Instead he shall withdrawal himself and see if it makes her happier.

The first week she looks confused and a little hurt by his actions, but she doesn’t say anything. No more initiated physical contact. No random hugs and kisses. He doesn’t cling to her during the race weekend like normal.

See! He isn’t cling! if anything, she’s definitely the more clingy one out of the two.

Week two hurt more then the first. He catches snippets of a few phone calls between her and Charles. She’s locked in the bathroom and her voice is cracking. “I don’t understand what I did, Charlie.”

Doesn’t understand what she did? You can’t just say things about a person and expect everything to be okay after. Why doesn’t she talk to him about it? If she wanted more space he would’ve just rather have talked about it then have overheard the love of his life shattering his heart into pieces.

He turns her back to her in bed starting week three. She looks tired over the next few days. Not just yawning, but the dark circles under red eyes screams that something is wrong.

she starts leaving sticky notes on his things, on the counters, the insides of cabinets, and even plastered all over thee mirror.

He ignores them. Yet his mind starts to wonder if maybe he should just ask her why. But it’s not like she talked to him, so why she he talk to her now?

He wonders again when he catches Max glaring at him.

And again when Oscar grows concerned.

And then when George gives a PowerPoint presentation with how to communicate properly.

Yeah, ok - so this wasn’t the right way to go about this. He really wishes George and his stupid PowerPoint had come earlier.

The icing on the cake is when he comes home one day and passes Charles as he’s leaving. He doesn’t look happy at all, and honestly, Lando can’t blame him.

He goes straight to bed, face buried in the pillow. Limbs tossed dramatically like a Disney princess in despair.

“Lando?” Her small voice shreds every ounce of strength he has left. She sits on the bed beside him. He doesn’t look up and she sighs heavily. “Please talk to me.”

When he does finally look at her. Truly, for the first time in months, he sees just how broken she looks.

“What’s there to talk about?” He curses himself and his tone because she flinches away at it.

“Why are you avoiding me? I don’t understand what I did…”

He scoffs. “Don’t know what you did? Last month at your little get together? Calling me a clingy whiny bitch behind my back?” He chokes on the last part.

She looks at him, head tilted in confusion. The same look she gives when he’s trying to read directions. Confused, loving, patient. Why is she smiling?

“You didn’t hear the beginning of that did you?”

“No.” He pouts.

“Lando, love, light of my life - that was about Charles.”

His entire body freezes. It’s true that her friends like Charles and she hates when the fawn over him. Oh, he’s been an idiot. An Absolute asshole.

“I’m so sorry.” He throws himself at her and every ounce of anxiety over the past month is washed away as soon as her fingertips touch his skin.

“Charles is terribly clingy to everybody and he’s my brother. Of course he’s a whiny bitch in my eyes.” He would respond but his brain is mush at her hands in his hair.

“I just got so in my head. I’m so sorry I didn’t talk to you - George gave me the whole lecture about proper communication.”

“I Know. He said you were hopeless.”

“How encouraging of him.”

Lando pulls her on top of him. Her warmth, her skin, her full body weight is everything he ever needs to survive.

“I can’t believe you’re smiling at me.”

“I’m mad at you, but maybe we can make up.” She raises her eyes suggestively.

“I think I can make that happen.”

[artandshid]

*found this in my drafts and i was prob heartbroken when I read this lmaooo*

Eddie Munson didn’t do girlfriends, he didn’t do love outside of the platonic kind for that matter. Eddie loved girls, he loved sex, but the romantic bullshit just wasn’t for him. He didn’t have the money to pay for expensive dates, he didn’t have the maturity for a real relationship, and he didn’t even have anyone to bring a significant other home to. He had no family, I mean sure he had Uncle Wayne and Wayne was a great guy. But Wayne worked a lot and he was often grumpy when he came back from work, not the friendliest guy to meet. As a matter of fact, the only person in Eddie’s life who met Wayne was Y/n.

Y/n was someone very dear to Eddie. Y/n was Eddie’s fuck buddy, the girl that maybe he loved a little more than platonically, but most of all, Y/n was Eddie’s best friend.

The whole fuck buddy thing started after a horrible hookup on her end, and Eddie was certain that he could be better than whatever scumbag she went out with that night, and he was. He would never admit how proud he was of that, though.

Eddie is slightly aware of his feelings for his best friend, he’d never tell her, but he would be lying if he said her presence doesn’t make him feel better. That the sight of her doesn’t just have him turned on, but brings him a sense of inner peace. He knows what these feelings are, but he also knows that they’re wrong. People like Eddie don’t deserve to feel those feelings, especially towards someone as great as Y/n. So he’s just letting them be for now, because he knows that she’ll find better eventually and he’s going to be okay with that, because having her as his best friend is good enough.

“Oh fuck Eddie.” Y/n moans from underneath him, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

Eddie rocks above her, panting and moaning the entire time. “Fuck babe I’m close, so fucking close. Oh shit, here I come babe.” He says as his eyes squeeze shut and he fucks his orgasm into her, her climax quickly approaching.

He pulls out and rolls next to her, both of them panting. They make eye contact and smile, both of their stomachs doing flips, neither one knowing about the other.

“We did good, huh?” Eddie says jokingly and pulls a cigarette out, offering her one, which she happily takes.

Y/n laughs out loud and lightly hits his chest, “Shut up.”

“No I’m serious, that was one of our best rounds yet.”

She laughs again, but slowly goes into a trance.

Eddie lightly shakes her shoulder, “What’s wrong y/n/n?”

You look him in the eyes and Eddie gulps, “Eds, I think I’m in love with you.”

Eddie freezes, even though he’s in love with you, he also knows that your feelings aren’t real. Maybe you guys have slept with each other too many times that you’re just getting confused. But you can’t love him and you can’t be in love with him. You’re far too good for him.

“Eddie please say something. Please tell me you feel the same way.”She now has tears in her eyes knowing that she’s going to lose him.

“Y/n, baby, you know I can’t. I’m sorry, but you’ve known me for how long, I’m not a relationship guy.” He says and he shrugs you off.

You look at him incredulously. To not reciprocate feelings is one thing, but to completely blow you off by saying ‘i’m not a relationship” guy after all of your history together, is what makes you mad. And the tone he said it in, too, like an arrogant prick.

“So that’s that? You can’t say anything else.” She says with tears now streaming down her face.

Eddie is feeling a lot of things right now and that’s never good. When he feels too much he gets overwhelmed and deals with it by being angry. He’s never been angry at her before, though, but seeing her cry, mixed with her “confession” and he’s still dealing with his feelings for her, Eddie is feeling more than overwhelmed.

“What else do you want me to fucking say? You’ve known me for how many fucking years? Never once have I done relationships, and you’re no fucking different. What did you think just because we have a bit of history it would make any difference.” He yells at her, taking another puff of his cigarette trying to calm his nerves.

“‘A bit of history’ is that what your chalking up our years of friendship to now? You never act like this with me, and I try to be honest with you and you just lash out on me? I’m your best friend, not some asshole at school, try treating me with a little respect.” She says, finally putting her clothes back on while he stay naked under the covers. Even with the clothes covering her, she’s never felt more exposed in her life.

“Respect?!” Eddie laughs out loud. “I just had you a moaning mess underneath me and you’re demanding respect?” He instantly regrets saying this at the pain on her face, but again, he won’t let her see that.

“You are such a selfish dick, I’m leaving.” She says and starts walking out with tears and mascara streaking her face.

“I may be selfish, but at least I didn’t sleep with my best friend and catch feelings, ruining years of friendship!” He yelled back even though she’s already almost out the front door. Now he’s not only selfish, but a selfish liar.

[blue-slxt]

First Heat

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: Something about a deep animalistic urge to mate just does it for me apparently. All characters are aged up. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Neteyam x Avatar!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Explicit smut, p in v, heat, creampie, praise kink

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: It's your first heat cycle in your avatar body and you beg Neteyam for help.

It’s been about 5 months since you’ve decided to stay in your avatar permanently and live with the na’vi. At only 19 years old, you were the youngest person with an avatar and you took a bit of pride in that fact. Life on Pandora was a far cry from the life you knew on Earth, but in the absolute best way possible. The air was alive with this energy that you could feel at the bottom of your feet flowing through every living thing on the planet. You felt like you were starting to get the hang of how things worked; the customs, the traditions, the hunting, the healing, everything. You enjoyed life here much better.

You loved spending time with the Sully family. Since Jake was originally from Earth too, you enjoyed talking with him and telling his kids all about Earth and watching their ears perk up in amazement. In particular, Neteyam would always ask you questions wanting to know everything there was to know about your first home.

You enjoyed Neteyam’s company. He was a good listener, always very respectful, but he was also a bit of a jokester. You found him charming. Nothing like the men you knew on Earth.

You kept your hut pretty minimal for the most part. Although, there were a few Earth things you decided to keep, mostly a full body mirror. You loved admiring your avatar. They were able to customize it so that even though you had mostly the same build as the na’vi, you still had a lot of the same curves as your human body. It made you feel a little bit embarrassed sometimes wearing the na’vi clothing because it left you feeling extra exposed since it didn’t cover much. Nevertheless, you admired your long, slender legs all the same and strong arms. You sat on the floor of your hut weaving an armband with some beautiful beads that you had collected. Funny enough, the beads looked similar to the ones Neteyam would wear in his braids. And almost as if he had heard your thoughts, the flap to your hut flips open and he walks inside. You were surprised, but not unhappy to see him. Next to no one comes to your hut so you weren’t expecting company. “Hey Neteyam.”

“Hey, we missed you at dinner tonight” he said looking around at your strangely decorated home.

“Yea, sorry, I guess I got a little lost in my thoughts” you admit.

His eyes wander around looking at the Earth items littered through your hut, tail flicking back and forth with curiosity. His eyes finally land on the mirror and you can see the intrigue written all across his body language. He stares at himself moving this way and the other looking at his movements matched by his reflection. You wander up behind him and look in the mirror with him giggling to yourself a bit. “Pretty neat huh?”

He grins to himself clearly pleased with his appearance. “I have never seen myself so clearly. At most, I get a blurry glimpse in the water.”

It was fun to watch him watch himself. And you couldn’t help yourself from noticing him too. You became acutely aware of his slender muscles and the way his braids fell around his neck and the stripes along his body. He was a handsome man, there was no two ways about it. Your tail is brushing back and forth along the floor and your body lets out a soft purr. You feel your face flush deeply as Neteyam makes eye contact with you in the mirror. You cannot believe that the body you loved so much would betray you in such a way. “Sorry! I have no idea where that came from. I’ve never done that before. And you know I’m still kinda getting used to things and—” you try to explain away the sound and he turns around to actually face you. His head cocks to the side listening to your ramblings while a knowing smirk plays on his lips. God, his lips looked soft. Have they always looked so soft? And…inviting? ‘Stop it!’ what were you thinking? What has gotten into you? You have never acted this way before so why now?

You excuse yourself to go and sit cross-legged on your sleeping mat across the floor. Suddenly, it feels very hot in your hut. Strange, since it was getting late and it usually cools off around now, but you feel like you’re about to start sweating. Neteyam walks over to you and crouches in front of you. His big golden eyes scan your face. His stare is scorching, and you dip your head down to avoid his burning eyes, but his fingers find your chin and lift your face to look at him. He takes in a big breath, and you notice a flash of realization come across his face for a split second. If you blinked, you would’ve missed it. His eyes drop from your eyes to your lips and his thumb traces across your bottom lip, “Tell me, how much do you know about heat cycles?” his voice was low and for some reason it made you hot at your core.

“What is a heat cycle?” you question feeling like your body is burning up and your mind is going fuzzy. It’s all you can do just to focus on the conversation.

Neteyam chuckles to himself. He realized that this must be your first heat. When he came over to you, he could smell your pheromones radiating off you and clouding his senses. You smelled of fresh rainwater and exotic flora. It drove him mad with desire. He could notice your breathing speeding up and your eyes starting to cloud.

With how you look right now, it makes him want nothing more than to ravage you, but he was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of you in such a state. No matter how painfully hard he was right now looking at you.

He drops his hand from your chin and pats the top of your head instead. “You still have so much to learn.” He sighs, “Your heat will come every month, it’s basically your body’s um…need to…seek out a mate” he did his best to explain, but truthfully he wasn’t very good at it since his mother or sister usually handled this kind of thing.

You managed to register the information he was giving you, but it did nothing to quell the feeling growing inside of you. There was this deep ravenous hunger you felt, but not in your stomach. It was growing so strong, it was getting painful. You sit up on your knees and crouch over holding yourself. Neteyam rubs his hand up and down your back and his fingers feel like fire on your spine. You jolt under his touch wanting to lean more into it. “I hear the Tsahik has certain herbs that you can take that can help ease you through the next few days.”

Days? You would have to endure this feeling for days? You weren’t sure you would last even through the night. Neteyam moves to go leave your hut and get the herbs, but the sudden loss of his touch leaves you feeling needy and without any thought behind it, you reach out and grab his wrist to stop him from leaving you. He looks back down at you in surprise. You can barely hold yourself up on the floor. “Please…please Neteyam…don’t leave me.” You couldn’t believe what you were saying. It was like your lips suddenly had free will apart from your brain. Neteyam couldn’t help but notice how desperate you looked. Despite his better judgement, he bent down and scooped you up into his arms bridal style. The gesture makes your heart skip several beats. You knew he was strong, but something in the way that he picked you up and held you as if you weighed nothing did something to you. You rested your head in the crook of his neck and you breathed in his scent. You’ve never noticed how good he smells. He smells Earthy. It makes you feel…feral.

Neteyam tries to ignore your breath on his neck and hold his composure while he carries you back over to your mat. He lays you down gently on your back and sits cross-legged beside you. He’s stopped touching you and that painful feeling comes back. Your thighs rub together desperate for some kind of friction to hopefully relieve the ache you feel. Your hands roam up and down your own body needing touch. You turn your head to look at Neteyam as he watches you clearly concerned at your current state and the fact that he doesn’t know how to help you. Your eyes catch movement down at his loincloth and it’s practically calling your name.

“Neteyam..n-need you t-to help me…please” you moan out with your hands resting underneath your top.

“I want to help, but I don’t know what you need”, he touches your shoulder eyes full of worry. You trail your eyes down to between his legs and look back up at him. It clicks. His face and ears blush a deep violet color. “Oh, I can’t do that, I shouldn’t be the one to do that. That should be something for your mate.”

“B-but I…don’t have one” the pain is getting worse and your vision is blurring. You’ve decided there’s no point in trying to fight it anymore and let yourself succumb to the lusty haze in your head. “Please ‘Teyam, I need you” you beg him. There was no denying that hearing his name dance across your tongue was enticing to him. Soon, Neteyam found himself wanting to give in too. Watching you writing in lustful agony in front of him was too much for him to bear. He ponders on it for a moment before letting himself give in to you. “Fine.”

You felt such relief wash over you once he agreed to help you. You untied the strings to your top and let it fall off to the side on the floor. Neteyam froze in the middle of untying his own loincloth at the sight of your breasts which were noticeably larger and more shapely than typical na’vi. You hurriedly shimmy out of your own cloth and flip over to your stomach. You hold your hips up into the air on your knees with your face still on the floor. You can feel something warm running down the length of your thigh and you surprise even yourself with how wet you are. Neteyam is stuck in awe seeing you like this. Without the loincloth in the way, he can smell your pheromones even more clearly and it makes him lick his lips in anticipation. Unable to wait one more second, your tail drags along Neteyam’s jaw and pulls him closer to you until you can feel the tip touching your opening. Your body purrs in waiting and that drives Neteyam mad. He slides in you inch by inch letting you get used to the stretch and every inch feels like a jolt of electricity throughout your body. By the time he’s all the way in, you swear you could cum right then and there. Your body can’t even wait for him to start moving so you start to throw your hips back into him giving your body the friction that you were craving. Neteyam holds on to your hips to steady himself and he squeezes his eyes closed trying to focus on not cumming inside of you so soon. Once he gets ahold of himself, he bucks his hips forward into you finally matching your movements. He opens his eyes and the sight of your ass falling back onto his dick over and over again makes him let out a low groan. He felt the need to have you completely. He wanted to be the only one to ever see you like this. The only one to ever touch you like this. The only one to make you feel like this.

All the pain is gone from your core leaving behind pure ecstasy. You’ve never felt need like this. You turn your face to the side so that you can look back at Neteyam hearing the constant smack of your hips against his. Neteyam looks down at your face and what a sight you were. Tongue hanging out while you moan and pant with every thrust, eyes nearly crossing unable to focus, a string of drool falling from the corner of you perfectly full lips, and your hair an absolute mess. “You’ve never looked more gorgeous than right now.”

His words of praise make your ears feel hot as his words dance around them. You needed that. “More. More please Neteyam.” You plead trying to focus your vision on his face, but it was no use. Your body wouldn’t listen to you.

Hearing you beg for more praise makes Neteyam feel this sense of pleasure that he didn’t know he could feel. He wanted to shower you with the sweetest of words like rain. “You feel so good.” His grip on your hips tightens. “Fuck, you make me want to give you everything.”

“Oh shit, Neteyam..I’m almost there!” you practically scream as you feel the pressure building in your body. Neteyam is close too, but he’s going to make sure that you get yours first. He grabs your wrists and holds them behind your back with one hand and he pulls you up so that your back meets his chest. The angle makes it so that he’s hitting exactly where your soft spot is. His free hand comes around the front of your body to grope one of your breasts. You catch a glimpse of the sight in the mirror across the room and it’s so lewd, but so…hot. It’s enough to get you to that sweet release you were chasing and you let it out all over Neteyam.

“Oh fuck, that is hot” he says admiring the mess you made on him. Between the sounds of your sweet moans and your walls still clenching around him from your orgasm, it’s exactly what he needs to get there. “I’m almost there. Should I take it out?” he asks you trying to be respectful, but the thought of him pulling out of you now damn near makes you panic. “No! Please don’t take it out!” You tell him. “B-but if I don’t then—” you cut him off. “I know, but I need it Neteyam. I need this” you practically have tears in your eyes at this point. Neteyam can’t hold it off any longer. ‘Fuck it’. He thrusts into you harder than before and releases inside of you. It feels thick and burning hot, but it satiates the aching hunger you felt earlier.

Neteyam releases his hold on you and you fall limp onto the floor. “Are you okay?” he asks making sure you’re not hurt. You squeak out a weak ‘mhm’ and lay there catching your breath. You feel him start to slide out of you slowly and your tail instinctively wraps around his thigh begging him to leave it in for a little while longer. You’re afraid that the pain will come again if he leaves you. He sighs and carefully lays down next to you being sure not to let himself come out of you yet wrapping one arm around your waist. He waits until you fall asleep before pulling out of you. Even in your sleep, your body can recognize the sudden emptiness and it makes you flinch. Your eyes flutter open to see his face studying yours. “Sorry ‘Teyam.” You say above a whisper feeling ashamed and embarrassed about what you asked of him. He brings one hand up to cup your face and lightly kisses your forehead, “Don’t be.”

“I do have to get home, though. If I stay here too long, your pheromones will drive me to do something crazy again.” He states.

You snake your tail around his waist holding him in place and you ask, “Would that be such a bad thing?” looking up into his eyes.

And you can feel him stiffen again at your suggestion. This was going to be a long couple of days.

[lieslab]

Nothing new

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Minho X gn reader

Summary: Minho finds you on the porch when the hurt from the issues your father gave you tends to bubble up and fizz over.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.3K

Trigger warning: Daddy issues, grief, depression, anxiety, mentions of physical violence and emotional abuse.

A/N: I forgot that I wrote a daddy issue post like a week or two ago because I have the memory of a goldfish. I haven't done a Minho drabble in a while and honestly, this was one hundred percent completely self-indulgent and I cannot lie about it. I was spiraling and this was what conjured up in the middle of my grief. I'm so sorry if you can relate, we deserve better <3

_ _ _

"Why are you hanging out here alone?” Minho plopped down beside you on the back wooden porch. 

You couldn’t remember how long you had been here. Maybe it was mere minutes or maybe it was more like hours. Time seemed to blend together out here and you let it. 

The sun was starting to set. It painted the sky with roaring reds and bright oranges. Streaks of clouds were beginning to fade further and further away into the distance. Soon the sun would set and the moon would begin to climb the darkened skies. 

“I’ve been calling your name for a while. I thought you were in our bedroom, but you didn’t respond. I even thought you were showering until I found the bathroom empty. I was starting to think you had been kidnapped or something.” 

You shrugged, “I’m just here.” 

“So what are you thinking about?” 

“Noth-” 

“Bullshit. You don’t turn into a recluse unless you’re truly struggling with something. You know that I’m not going to judge you, so what are you really thinking about?” 

“Everything all at once.” 

“Anything specific?” 

“Family.” 

His face softened at the mention of your family. Life with your family has been chaotic. He knew the stories, you always told him about them. More specifically, he knew the issues that you had with your father. 

“Daddy issues again?” 

“Or perhaps my brain is the issue.” You shifted and leaned back. Your legs hung down the descending stairs, but your upper half clung to the deck. “I just…I just wish I could stop making it a big deal. I wish things didn’t affect me so much. I wish actions and words would run off me like water instead of sticking.” 

“It’s not wrong to mourn the things you missed out on. I understand that it must be hard to deal with the cards life gave you. Everyone has struggles and yours just happens to be your father.” 

“You’d think it’d stop once you grow up.” 

He paused for a moment and his eyes went out to the backyard. Off in the distance, the shared vegetable garden bloomed. Bright grown plants flourished in every direction. Two white cabbage butterflies chased each other around and around. Soon they’d land on an outer cabbage leaf and begin to munch away without a care in the world. 

“I think realizing it when you get older makes it worse. You become aware of the injustice and hurt which causes a cognitive disconnect. It makes it cut that much deeper. You don’t have to feel bad for feeling something so natural.” 

“You know what the worst part is?” You finally got out. The sting of tears began to collect in the corners of your eyes. “He’s not even a good man. We’re talking about one of the worst people out there and yet I still feel myself chasing after him.” 

“The kind of person who picks strangers over his own children. The type who spends money on stupid things instead of the youngest child’s needs. The kind of person who has no issue yelling and screaming in someone’s face. The kind that lets their anger control them and make all the decisions.” 

“But yet…I keep chasing. I keep hoping and praying. I’ve started to talk to God,” a tearful snort fell from your mouth. “I don’t even know if I believe in him, but I’ve talked to him. I keep asking for a better father, but all I hear is silence.” 

“They say you should stay in contact with your parents because they’re your parents, but what if a parent is making you so stressed and upset, your hair falls out? What if it leads to sobbing and emotional distress? What if it leads to screaming and fighting? What if trying to love my father is what kills me?” 

Minho’s heart broke apart at your words. He knew it was bad and it had been for a while, but he didn’t know it was this bad. His hand instinctively reached out for yours. The warmth of his palm connected with yours and curled around your fingers. 

“And you know what the worst part is?” 

“Hmm?” 

“If I leave him, that’s it. He won’t change and try to become a better person. He won’t think about his actions and go out of his way to change. He’ll just point the finger and belittle me. Run my name through the mud to every family member. He’ll belittle me, turn me into an outsider, pull the curtain over everyone’s eyes again. He’ll always be the good father in his eyes and I’ll just become another asshole that did him wrong. Just like the hundreds of other people that he once upon a time knew.” 

Narcissism was deadly for some. Too much of an ego and too much self-imposed-importance left people craving attention. No matter whose character they had to rip apart, they’d do it. Whether that meant belittling them to everyone they knew, screaming at them, or even assaulting them. 

Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. 

All the attention had to be swallowed by them. Like some sort of powerful sun, the rays never knew how brightly they burned. Any ounce of criticism was a pot of boiling hot water. 

The huffs and puffs. The finger in your face. The yelling and screaming as spit flew everywhere. The broadening rage that seemed to fill the room without a single sound. The angry marching from them as you tiptoed along on eggshells. Just when you let out a breath, they snapped and lashed out. 

You didn’t have time to react before you became a victim of another episode. Another rage fest where things went flying. When the refrigerator door slammed shut so hard that the shelves full of condiments shook. The way that cupboards were dented from the force of wood slamming against wood. 

Your dad would always be your dad, but he’d never be a good father. You could cry and cry and cry. You could cry enough tears to create an ocean, but it’d never be enough to wash the hate out of your father. That realization caused your heart to break apart. 

Your biological father would never love you, at least, not the way you loved him. Your chasing was starting to slow down. You could spend a few more years chasing his love and begging on your knees for it, but when was the last time your father said he loved you? 

When was the last time you were your father’s child? When was the last time that your father seemed to give a shit about you? Did he know your favorite color? Did he know the songs that caused your heart to boom with adrenaline? 

Better yet, did he know something as simple as your birthday? Does he know or does he laugh as he asks you because it’s not such a big deal to him? So when he hands you a card from the dollar store with his name, does it feel just as worthless as his love for you? 

“Is it wrong to want to be loved?” 

“Never. It’s never wrong to be loved and I’m sorry you don’t have that kind of love. If you want me to, I’ll share my father with you.” 

“I haven’t even met your father.” 

“Oh, I was talking about Bang Chan.”

“Minho!” You leaned over to lightly slap his shoulder. Before you could reach it, he jerked out of reach. His hand grabbed your wrist and he jerked you closer. 

“Hey!” 

Your annoyance instantly dissolved the moment his lips met yours. Your body relaxed and you began to kiss him back. At this moment, none of your father’s lack of love mattered. Right now, you had this and what a fool you’d be to ever give it up.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

[queens-of-spirits]

Sometimes I get really sad and think about Shen Yuan’s family and how they reacted to his death.

He lived alone, so I wonder how long it took for someone to find him. I don’t think it took very long. Here’s why.

From my understanding, he didn’t get to post his final review of the PIDW ending. He died before he could.

The internet is the internet so people notice that Peerless Cucumber is missing. People get concerned because no way this fucker is not commenting on this if he still has the ability to type and they track him down and get in contact with his family

At first they think the “hey maybe check on this guy, he’s been radio silent online and that’s a not like him” message is a joke, but they send his sister anyway.

Of course, she finds him dead.

And a few weeks later, Peerless Cucumber posts the review with the following note included:

So for those of you itching to know what Peerless Cucumber thought of the update, here you are. I want to thank everyone who reached out out of concern. You were right. My brother died before he could post this. We only found him so fast because of all of you.

I will say, being made aware of this account is the best gift I could be given. I get to read through all his old reviews and really get a sense of everything he hid from us. He was a sickly guy and reading novels like this one were his escape, you know? He used to rant to me about whatever trash he picked out when it was too hard to talk about everything else, so this was like getting to talk to my brother one last time. I could practically hear his voice again.

I’m posting this, his final review, because I know my brother and he would not want the last chapter to go unroasted, even if he had to do it from beyond the grave, so I believe I can help put him to rest with this.

So this is Peerless Cucumber, signing off for the last time

[senselessviolets]

“stay soft”

Roman Roy x Fem. Reader

Rating E (Smut)

Word Count: 3.3k

AO3 Link

WARNINGS:

Mommy kink, smut, some plot, this man has MOMMY ISSUES™️, gentle femdom, titplay, breast sucking, so much dirty talk, Roman gets called “baby” a lot, no PIV, no uses of Y/N

Author's Notes:

The people have spoken—y’all want Roman being fucking babied in bed so that’s what the fuck I did and I have zero regrets. Totally gave up in the end but school’s been incredibly draining for me so I’m proud of myself for even getting THIS out.

[Gif creds: I forget. if it’s yours, lemme know!!]

Summary:

You are an equally wealthy childhood friend of the Roys and Roman in particular. After years of little to no contact with him, he and you decide to finally act on the mutual attraction you both share in the most ‘Roman way’ you can think of. 

“Okay, but like if we…fuckin’...if we fuckin’ do this, I will want…some things. But I’m not g’na fuckin’ beg or anything…call you mommy, ‘goo goo ga ga’…none of that shit. I will want you…to be there…and I will want you to ‘not be there’...if you catch my drift. I-I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ word or a single moan. I don’t want—I just don’t want it, okay. And this might sound bad—even though I’ve definitely said worse—but you would be just a-a means for me,” a voicemail blears in your ear as you are made aware of the four calls you missed in your slumber, “‘Kay? I dunno. Think it over. It’s not fuckin’ life or death. Until it is. And I kill you. And hide the body and burn the evidence…kidding! ‘Kay, love you, kidding, ‘kay, bye!”

This was uncharted territory for you both. 

You and Roman and the other Roy children were longtime family friends. Like Stewy Hosseni or a lesser example Ray Kennedy. What that meant was your incredibly loaded dad gave Logan Roy an ungodly sum of money in the nineties and had managed to stay on his good side ever since. At their status, that’s what qualified as ‘friendship’. Everything was a transaction at the end of the day. Like you suspected Logan and Caroline had bought their way into their kids’ hearts, to even be in the same room as these titans—to breathe the same air—you had to beg, steal, or borrow. Fortunately, you hailed from less-than-humble beginnings; your father being an incredibly successful venture capitalist-turned-philanthropist and your mother the heiress of a billion-dollar publishing company. 

But it was all just details. 

You were eternally grateful to be an only child, imagining an existence where you and your progeny were destined to forever claw at each other's throats—all for whatever scraps your parents were generous enough to leave you.

Unfortunate. ‘Pitiful’ felt more accurate. Every hollow soiree and vapid function served as a reminder. These were not your people. And they never would be. And yet—

“Heya! Well, you look less miserable than usual. Lemme guess, you finally ditched Loser What’s-His-Face and have taken up my longstanding advice of giving lesbianism a try,”

“Hi, Roman. No, I’ve actually been reminiscing about our younger years together. Remember the time you threw up in your mouth before presenting me my corsage the night of the winter formal? Seventh grade? Ring a bell?”

“That was because it only dawned upon me then that I would be getting Cody Keener’s sloppy seconds,” he answers, “I just couldn’t cope with that, I’m sorry,”

You slug him in the arm and he reacts overdramatically, as if someone stuck him with the pointy end of a knife. Onlookers included none other than Frank Vernon, Hugo Baker, and a close friend of your mom’s, Michelle Anne. This time, you and Roman had crossed paths at your father’s 70th birthday party. It was held at your parents’ penthouse on the Upper East Side and attracted a decent crowd. Faces you’d sworn you met pass you by as strangers come up to you, recounting memories of you who were only this tall. It was always a discombobulating experience but you continued to frolic and mingle nonetheless. 

In truth, this little ‘reunion’ was nothing but a facade. 

You and Roman had been talking for weeks now after years of no contact with one another. Brief texts turned into prolonged phone calls which by the end of the night became one-sided, pathetic voicemails expressing some sort of yearning for the other. It was becoming all-consuming and quite frankly, exhausting. And now it had finally come to blows. 

There was a plan, there were contingencies (of course, there were) but above all—there was transparency. And that was something you could hold onto. Oh, the many men who lied their way into your bed. And then here comes Roman, who’d made it abundantly clear he’d rather inhale glass than have you worm your way into his. So this scheme would not transpire at his place or yours. 

It would be occurring in a Central Park Suite at The Carlyle—just a quick jaunt from your parents’ place. He deigned to be a gentleman and handled the reservations as well as your transportation because you had to already be there. You were going to be lying on the bed, in some satiny sleepwear. No lingerie, no hosiery—nothing that could be construed as ‘sexy’. You were to look mundane, average, and bored. 

Roman would enter and you would be still and let him do as he pleased. While you’d had this endeavor nailed to a T, you’d be lying if you said the prospect of him going off-script—doing things rougher, harder, doors off the hinges, letting his darker impulses get the better of him—didn’t make your knees buckle a bit. 

So once the candles had been blown, the birthday wishes made, and goodbyes were said—you were to slide into his black Range Rover SV while his secondary chauffeur Crispin brought you to your destination. In your duffel was your change of clothes and a few other goodies. It had crossed your mind—once, twice how exceedingly easy it would be to bail right about now. Crispin could drop you off on the side of the road like some floozy and then your personal chauffeur could pick you up and drive you back to your cozy brownstone for a mundane evening spent by yourself—alone. That was the part that struck a pang in your stomach. That was the truly unbearable part. That, and the heat between your thighs which was starting to become really inconvenient. 

…

Now was not the time to get cold feet. 

You had already slid your sequin cocktail dress off and exchanged it for your satin sleepwear. Like the pretty kept thing he’d instructed you to be, you lay flat across the plush hotel mattress, awaiting his arrival, legs swinging to and fro like an eager teenage girl.

Maybe he’d be the one to pussy out.

At least then you’d have yet another thing to hold over his head for the foreseeable future. In your phone’s front-facing camera, you inspected the makeup you’d done earlier that evening for the party and it still seemed sufficient. Your lips seemed a bit drab. You roll off the bed and I sift through the contents of your bag, searching for the mauve lip color you’d brought along. Dabbing it onto the purse of your mouth while gazing into the mirror of the room’s modest vanity—you begin to lose track. 

This isn’t it and you know it. 

You know it. 

So fucking do something about it. 

Examining the time on the wall clock, you decide to hastily shake off your striped satin pj set and tear through your duffel for the sheer lace slip and matching long gloves. Not liking the unkemptness of your long hair at this particular moment, you palm your bag for one of the chignon French hairpins that had sunk their way to the bottom—a go-to for you since your younger years. The best you can muster is a half-up, loose, more-than-messy low bun because suddenly, a knock on the door can be heard. Your heart leaps into your throat and you shove your duffel bag into the armoire in a hurried panic. The click of the hotel room’s keycard lock comes next and you spring to the door as to be the one to open it. You and Roman meet each other’s gaze through the crack of the half-open door, you two beam down at your hands, enclosed over both sides of the handle. He is very noticeably startled, not expecting you to answer the door.

“C-Come on in,” you stutter, gesturing into the hotel suite with a gloved hand. 

Roman’s mouth goes dry. It is not all that often the family jester is able to be truly caught off-guard. This absolutely was one of those times. He shuffles into the room with tepid steps and doesn’t turn around to face you until he hears the door click shut. With a blank, nonchalant expression—he shrugs, prompting you to provide some sort of explanation. Of which, you do not possess. 

“What?” you say. 

“What’s…all of that about?”

“Yeah, sorry…wasn’t really feeling the pajamas tonight. I opted for something I felt was a little more fitting. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No,”

He definitely fucking does mind actually. But any frustration at being caught unawares expresses itself in the form of big beautiful hazel eyes beaming at you with fear and uncertainty. His lips are parted, unable to form the words he can’t even begin to think of at this particular moment.

“So…,”

“...so…?”

“So…lay down,” you finally say.

Roman is able to briefly channel the smarmy assholeishness he usually hones with a sarcastic scoff and smirk. He shakes his head to himself before his gaze finds the floor. 

“...I’m sorry, maybe you just didn’t hear me right the first time,” you say, crossing over until you are eye-to-eye with him and your competing breaths can be felt, “...or maybe I should’ve been a bit more specific.”

You lean in until your lips brush the outer shell of his right ear and he stops breathing. 

“Roman. Lay the fuck down on that bed. Now.”

He quickly scrambles onto the bed, resting on his back while slightly sitting up. There is a tentative eagerness in his demeanor as if the last hints of resistance in his muscles had yet to dissipate.

“Good. Now can you unbutton your shirt by yourself or do you need my help?”

“...I-I-I need your help,” he mindlessly babbles, “P-Please. Please, can you help me?”

You click your tongue at his wanton request, attempting to maintain your composure. It was after the first ‘please’ that you knew you were going to willingly give everything in you to this man right then and there. 

The safeguards? Fuck the safeguards. 

The time for self-preservation was about five or so minutes ago before his knuckles had rapped gently on the heavy wooden door. Without breaking eye contact, you straddle him effortlessly, both knees on either side of his hips. You aren’t certain because all the blood had flooded to your ears and you were unable to hear much over the thumping of your own heartbeat but you swear you hear a quiet ‘oh god’ slip out of him. Your fingers find the buttons on his grey button-down and your wrists noticeably begin to shake as they undo them.

For fuck’s sake.

Up until this point, you had conjured the impression that you were the one in control here and that there was nothing he could say or do otherwise. But now the true vulnerability of the situation had begun to set in. The playing field had been leveled. 

His fingers enrapture yours and he steadies your grasp as you both work to unbutton his shirt. Roman swallows, anxiously. You get more than half of the way there before he gives up and presses his face firmly to yours. 

It’s a declarative kiss. 

It’s long-lasting and when the two of you eventually break it—you know there’s no going back. Those hands of his, wracked with nerves, find their way to your hips. He slowly drags the lacey fabric up so your upper thighs are exposed. Once you can feel the soft flesh of your hips exposed to the cold air, you grab his wrists and he freezes. 

“Ah-ah-ah, I don’t think I remember saying you could do that,”

“I-I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t—I’m sorry,”

“So many apologies, they just keep on coming,”

“I’m…,” he deeply exhales out of his nose. 

“You’re what? Wait, lemme guess,” you goad, “Sorry?”

He bobs his head up and down, face full of embarrassment.

“Hm…think I’m a little sick and tired of those ‘sorrys’, sweetie. You and that mouth of yours. Oh, that fuckin’ mouth of yours. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the amount of headaches it’s caused me in what, the two decades I’ve known you? What are we gonna finally do about that mouth?”

Roman looks up to you, hanging onto your every last word. 

“I-I don’t know, j-just tell me what to do. I can make it up to you, I-I promise,”

You genuinely take a moment to mull it over, though the growing hardness pressing against your most intimate place admittedly was making it hard to think.

“...I think…we need to find another use for that mouth of yours—something to keep it busy, hm? How does that sound, my sweet baby?”

You swear his face goes pale as he assumes you mean your cunt. While the thought had crossed your mind (many, many times in fact), knowing Roman—you know that would be too much. And that you would lose him forever somewhere along the way and you didn’t even want to begin to think about that. 

You tilt your head, staring longingly at that poor little boyish face of his. Your clothed index finger traces its way slowly from the exposed flesh of his tummy, up to his ribs, across his collarbone, along his Adam’s apple, over his bearded chin— finally stopping at his pinkish bottom lip. You pull it down, making him pout for you. 

“Open for me,” you utter softly. 

Roman obeys, his tongue moving upwards in his mouth when he swallows. You continue to tease around his mouth torturously, the lace creating a delicious friction against his beard. The heat of his pants against your lone finger makes you stir inside. 

“Now, close your eyes—mouth still open,”

He noticeably resists before relenting, his eyes flutter closed. You drop one of the spaghetti straps of the slip off of your shoulder, exposing yourself. Your nipple pebbles in the cool air conditioning of the room. You awkwardly lean your torso inwards, inching your breast closer to his mouth. For a brief second, his eyes flick open, taking in the scene. Catching your drift instantly, he swallows as much of the soft flesh as his mouth will allow, moaning into it. The most obscene sucking sounds soon fill the room. Roman whimpers into your skin, letting his head fall limp against your chest. You wrap your arms around his neck, cradling his head. His brown fluff of hair is too tempting for your hands to not tangle themselves in. 

“There, you go…you’re so good. You’re so good for me, aren’t you? Yeah?” you sigh, tilting your head backward.

You swear you can feel your hips gyrating on their own. Roman’s fingers have ensnared themselves onto the flimsy fabric of your slip, gripping it so tight you think it might tear. Not that you’d give a shit if it did. 

“Y’know what I think? I think you act the way you do all the fucking time because you’re just waiting for someone to come and put you in your place, is that right? Yeah? You’re a brat ‘cause you want someone to do this to you? Hm?”

He releases your nipple and an almost pornographic line of spit drools from his mouth. Roman’s lips are plump and rosy, kiss-bruised and swollen. You find out just how warm they’ve become when his wet mouth comes to meet your own in a kiss so messy, you know you’ll touch yourself thinking about it later.

“I-Is this good? A-Am I being a good boy for you?”

“Mm-hm, you’re being a very good boy for me. My good boy. Mommy’s good boy, right?”

“Yes, fuck, yes—” he sobs, moving onto your other breast.

His voice is shrill and wrought with desperation. You only ever heard it get this high-pitched when he was making a mocking impression of you or some other woman. And now here he was, making these noises all on his own. The edge of his bottom teeth catches your nipple in just the right away. You squeal, jolting upwards in his lap and laughing at the surprise sensation. He soothes the sensitive skin with the flat of his tongue immediately after. 

“That’s it. There’s my boy, there’s my sweet baby boy,”

All of the sudden, his hands leave your slip and fly to the buckle of his belt. Roman undoes his zipper and shimmies down his slacks enough to pull his dick out. He jerks it quickly with his eyes wound tightly shut in an attempt to get himself completely hard. 

“M-Mommy, c-can I see ‘it’? P-Please, god!” Roman begs out.

Your current position leaves his cock hidden by the hem of your slip. All you can see is the silhouette of his fist in the fabric pumping up and down speedily—relentlessly. He could easily just lift the skirt himself and look at your bare pussy, just as he hungrily wants but he doesn’t. 

He waits. He waits for you to give him permission. 

“See what, sweet boy? Say it, use your words for me. You’re a big boy, you can do it. I know you can,” 

Your hands cup his face and you rest your forehead on his. The skin is taught and slick with sweat. A vein above his brow becomes visible as he strains into his own palm. 

“What do you want, Roman?” you reiterate, trying to regain his attention.

“Fff-fuck! Your p-pussy, I wanna see y-your pussy!”

“All together. Say it all together. Say ‘Mommy, can I please see your pretty pussy?’” 

“Mommy, can I please see your pretty pussy?”

His eyes finally open and they aim downwards, expectantly. 

“Is that all you want, pretty boy?”

“N-N-yes!”

“Is that all you want?”

“No! No, I wanna cum, I-I wanna f-f-finish! W-Wanna finish on it,” he whines.

“All together, baby…”

“Mommy, can I please finish on your pretty pussy?! Please!”

It’s on the last syllable of his sentence that he erupts. Only as he’s cumming is he able to look at your cunt. You swiftly move the fabric up and his load catches the edge of it, the rest of it coating your exposed pussy. Roman falls backwards limp onto the pillow and you roll off of him and the bed and onto your jelly-like legs. The two of you don’t look at each other, occupying opposite sides of the room while you make yourselves decent. You shed your stained garment, using it to wipe your cunt clean. You fling it onto the hotel carpet and don’t think twice about it. 

“Mind if I…borrow that…for a bit?” a weak voice croaks from across the suite. 

You turn your head and smirk, still topless.

“All yours.”

Briefly, you catch a glimpse of Roman from behind, buttoning up his shirt. You pull up your dress, sweatier than before when you had taken it off. You expected there to be a palpable shift between the two of you, had everything gone according to plan. You figured the next RECNY ball that was just around the corner might be a bit awkward but it was nothing a few sarcastic quips and some alcohol couldn’t fix.

“My guy’s still waiting out front, so that’s my not-so-stealthy getaway. I can have Crispin pull around in twenty if I guess, I dunno, you wanted to shower the stank off of y…”

Roman’s words trail off as he becomes caught up in the sight of you; your cocktail dress zipped up halfway, your hair in an even messier updo than before, one heel on with the other remaining to be seen. It left him dumbfounded, feeling impulsive, like he could leave everything behind then and there and things might turn out alright. 

“Um…d’you maybe wanna just come with me…I dunno. Back at my place, I mean. And don’t make it into…it’s not a thing. Th-This is not a thing. But, yeah, we could order in whatever you, you could stay over, I-I got spare rooms–”

“Roman—”

“—it-its not like a big deal or anything, y’know? This isn’t, this wasn’t ‘a thing’. Fuckin’ labels and everything, I m—”

“Roman! That all sounds fine; I just would like to exit one of the nicest hotels in the damn city not looking like a two-bit whore, yeah? Come and zip me up,”

“I mean, if you ask me—I think it’s a rather fitting look,” he says, echoing your previous words.

“ROMAN!” 

“Alright, fuck, fine!”

End.

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<3

[wangxianficrecs]

Catharsis by Starfell123

Catharsis

by Starfell123

T, WIP, 7k, Wangxian

Summary: “Look, I know I’m probably foolish. I know that the chances of this not being a business-meeting are slim to none, but I need to know for sure. If Uncle Jiang wants to apologize, I’ll give him a chance to do so. If not, I want to tell him where to stick it in person.” Thirteen years after being thrown out by the Jiangs, Jiang Fengmian contacts Wei Wuxian and asks to meet. Wei Wuxian goes in the hopes of reconciling with his adopted family, but the circumstances he finds himself in wont allow that to happen. What will he do when his former guardian tries to arrange a marriage for him that will benefit the Jiang-sect? Kay's comments: This story felt very satisfying. Thirteen years after being kicked out by Madam Yu, Wei Wuxian is thriving. He's filthy rich, he's surrounded by people who love and support him, he has a successful company and now, Jiang Fengmian turns up because the Jiang Sect is struggling and thinks he can just marry Wei Wuxian off as though he's still part of the sect, because technically, he was never formally struck of the disciple rosters. Also, rest in pieces Madam Yu, she's not missed. Really loved how soft Wangxian were for each other. Excerpt: Now the Jin-sect was on the verge of collapse and several sects stood on the brink of financial ruin. Wei Wuxian hadn’t been all that interested in listening to the financial portion of the story - he let Qing-jie handle their money for a reason! - but he’d understood enough to know that things were BAD. “I am aware of the monetary issues most sects face in the wake of Jin Guangyao’s schemes. Have you found a way to save Yunmeng Jiang?” “Yes. The Lan-sect has offered to enter an alliance with us. An alliance based on marriage.” Jiang Fengmian gave him a significant look and Wei Wuxian’s thoughts started racing. A marriage alliance. Someone from the Jiang-sect was getting married to a Lan. Who…? He tried to mask his growing dread with a smile. “Oh, that’s so sweet! Did you call me here to invite me to Jiang Cheng’s wedding?” Jiang Fengmian grimaced. “Not exactly…” Before he had a chance to say anything else, the door opened to reveal two figures clad in white.

pov wei wuxian, modern setting, modern with magic, wei wuxian leaves the yunmeng jiang sect, attempted arranged marriage, bad parents jiang fengmian & yu ziyuan, somebody lives/not everybody dies, hurt/comfort, happy ending, genius wei wuxian, rich wei wuxian, families of choice

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[ur-local-anti-hero]

Dear John

Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: Maybe you should have listened to your best friend's warning about Regulus, you didn't. Now you just have to deal with the consequences.

Genre: Angst

CW: Intimidation, angst, pureblood's ideology, toxic family dynamics

Word count: 1.6K

This is part of my Speak now (Marauders' version) collection.

“Maybe it's you and your sick need. To give love then take it away

And you'll add my name to your long list of traitors, Who don't understand

And I'll look back and regret I ignored when they said, "Run as fast as you can"

You wished you had listened. The argument you had with Sirius when he learned you were dating his brother was being replayed in your head while you ran towards your boyfriend’s room. 

“He’s going to ruin you, you don’t know him like I do.” Sirius had said, voice low with anger and worry. “The moment my mother hears about you two it’s over.” 

“You’re the one that doesn’t know him!” It had angered you, Sirius assuming that Regulus’ love for you was fragile. “I really love him, and he loves me. End of discussion.” 

“You don’t understand what you’re getting into. My brother would never prioritize you over our mother. and she’s never going to accept a Gryffinfor Muggleborn as a suitable partner for Regulus” 

You knew he was right, but some part of you naively thought that Regulus truly loved you.

“I’m saying this because I care about you. You should leave while you can” you could tell Sirius was worried and meant no harm, but that argument ended your friendship with the oldest Black brother. 

That was almost a year ago, you used to have a close friendship with him, but now he wouldn’t even acknowledge you. You refused to break up with Regulus, and you really thought you were doing the right thing. Regulus had shown you every part of him, you knew about his family and all the things he had done and regretted. But you also knew about the caring, loving and kind person he was. 

Even when the war was starting to become more and more imminent as the dark lord and deatheaters won power and followers, he never showed any interest in joining into the dark lord’s lines. The abuse and intimidation became worse and worse for mugglerborns who had the bad luck of running into slytherings in the hallways. 

Regulus was very aware of it, he became like your shadow, never leaving your side until curfew forced him to. And he was the first to greet you every morning, waiting for you outside your house’s common room. 

At least it was like this before Christmas break. It had been a week since you come back from the break and Regulus was acting weird, at first you thought it was because he had to adapt again to Hogwarts - It took him some time to come back to his normal self ater staying in his house - but after a week of almost no contact with him you became worried. 

On your way to the dungeons you ran into Snape and Evan. You had tried to avoid them, head low and pace hurried, but it seemed like they had a special radar to spot possible victims for their tortures and mocking. They blocked your path, you were cornered against a wall as they got closer than it was safe. 

“Look who is here” Evan had teased you, his wand pointing at your face. “Regulus’ little pet”

“Why are you separated from your guardian dog?” Snape taunted you. “Has he finally realized that he’s got more important things to do rather than take care of a filthy mudblood?” 

You didn’t like a bit where the situation was going, you had tried to reach your wand, but Snape had noticed and raised his wand at you. 

“Don’t even think about it” 

“You know, Snape? I’m curious.” He hadn’t stopped looking at you. “What are you doing here, there’s no way you’re going to see Regulus right?”  

He knew exactly that it was the only reason you would ever step into the dungeons. His face turned into a look of fake pity. 

“Oh. Poor little thing, he hasn’t told you has he?” Evan was mocking you, playing with your psyche as all slytherings liked to, still his next words made your blood run cold. “He’s become the new right-hand for the dark lord. As he ought to, at the end of the day he’s a Black.” 

That’s when you started running, Snape and Evan probably tought it was enough torture to mess with your head and they let you pass them by without much hussle. 

And you ran all the way to the Slythering common room. Usually you wouldn’t dare to enter alone, but you needed to see Regulus. You didn’t want to believe Evan’s words, ‘He’s probably trying to confuse you, make you confront Regulus and cause an argument’. You were trying to convince yourself, but you couldn’t deny that the possibility was there. 

You made it to Regulus’ dorm, without even knocking you entered. Inside Regulus was laying in his bed, Barty was in one of the desks, working on homework, or a plan to destroy civilization. You didnt really care, all you could focus on was Reg. 

“Regulus” your voice didn’t feel like yourself, it was void of any emotion other than obvious tiredness from your running. 

Regulus jolted out of bed when he heard you. Barty turned around and his lips morphed into a teasing smirk. 

“Oh well, look who’s here -” “Leave, now.” Barty was cut short by Regulus’ demand, for a second you thought he was talking to you, but he was facing Barty. 

“okay, okay. No need to get aggressive…” Barty said before getting up from the chair. He walked past you, didn’t even acknowledge your presence, and closed the door behind him. 

───✥───

Regulus knew this was coming, there was no way you wouldn’t notice his absence or avoid entirely the rumors of the new deatheater in Hogwarts. He just wished it didn’t have to be this way. He coudn’t face you, from the start you and him were on opposite sides of the war, but he getting the mark was what made it definite. 

“Reg-” “What do you want?”

 Regulus’ voice was icy, not a single emotion in it. He saw you flinch at his tone. He never talked to you like that, his tone was always sweet and words picked with care whenever he referred to you. His change in demeanour angered and saddened you, he could tell. 

“Are you really asking me what I want?” your tone was colder now, you stepped closer with each word. “I’ve barely seen you for a week, and the moment I step into the dungeons the first thing I hear is that you’re the new right-hand for the dark lord. Please, tell me it’s not true”  

He could hear your voice crack and your waterline become wet with unsed tears. He knew you so well, he knew you were not going to cry, he knew you would give him the benefit of the doubt and hear him out. He knew that if he would tell you the truth, how he was forced and tortured to take the mark, you would understand, try to find a way to help and stand by his side. 

“It’s true” 

And he couldn’t allow that. If he were to let you in again, he wouldn’t be able to do what he had to do. End things, for your sake. 

“You’re lying to me, this is all a big joke, it has to be” you cried. 

He didn’t reply, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. At his silence you reached for his sleeve, pulling it up. He didn’t even flinch, and he let you stare at his bare arm. Well, not bare, as the deatheater mark was there, taking up half of his arm. 

You dropped his arm and stared at him in absolute shock. He didn’t say anything, that was angered the most, how he was not even able to say anything. 

“You didn’t want to, right?” he stayed silent “Please, say something” you implored. 

“It's my duty, it’s what 's right.” he deadpanned. 

You chuckled humorlessly “What’s right? That 's right? You’re joining a pureblood supremacist cult, there’s nothing right about it!”  

“And what about us, do I mean that little to you? Does our relationship mean anything at all to you?”  you said in a softer tone. 

“No. It was a mistake, from the start. I shouldn’t have dated a mudblood” Regulus had to make an enormous effort to not flinch at his own words. But this would make you leave, it had to. 

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry, but the heartbreak you were feeling was unlike anything you’d ever felt. Regulus had been able to make you feel special, loved for almost two years. He held your heart in his hands and treated it with care, now he was ripping it and giving back to you. 

He didn’t want to fight for your love and you were not going to beg anymore. 

“You’re right. It’s funny, really, Sirius warned me this would happen, but I was too blinded to see that he was right” bringing up Sirius was a low blow, you knew how much he meant for Regulus. But at that moment all you wanted was to make him feel the same heartbreak you were feeling. 

“At the end of the day you’re a Black.” You repeated the same words Evan had said to you on your way to the dungeons. 

Regulus just stood there and nodded. You left his room, clearly distressed and crying. Regulus’ heart was shattered beyond repair. However, this was the best option. He would rather see you leaving, crying and heartbroken for the last time in his life, than lying on the floor lifeslessly as his family had promised if he didn’t leave you and took the mark. 

At the end of the day he was really just a Black, it was the family he was born to and the family he’ll die for. 

Author's note: this one is so sad, I'm sorry Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed and very appreciated. I'd love to hear what you thought about it so don't be shy!! To be part of the taglist Dm me or send me an ask <3 Taglist @feral-posts @izuoyarmin @aremuslupinsim @yourfavgay @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo