#I like how they added that they're getting more comfortable with eachother on each turn like he tried to look good on the first one

[1v31182m5]

The sessions get longer each time

[jrueships]

Bron/AD

time for my honest onion on bron/AD...

i think they are very compatible like either way you view it, friendship or romantic relationship. Like they are on kyle/demar levels of compatibility in terms of opposites attracting. Lebron is driven and AD is deep. Lebron is willing to investigate and explore any of AD's unique passions (like gta rp) even if it's very new to him or he has to borrow a shitty mic from his streamer son to do it 😭. AD is willing to go the depths of Lebron's wants and desires by seeing him more than just the crown status he has. He doesn't want to please necessarily, but to just help in general because their relationship (whether platonic or romantic) revolves heavy mutuality. I think people can be too hard on Lebron/too judgemental because of him having the spotlight and all the issues that surround that, so whenever AD doesn't perform well.. people blow the thing up into a huge problem. And while that IS a problem... i think their relationship builds off of having problems tbh. Not big ones but like small ones that you can consider accomplishments when they're solved. Their relationship is built off of constant solving VIA investigating, helping, and just tending to other's needs. They REALLY get closer together by actually. Getting closer together. And to get closer.. they need a little problem first.

Problem has this whole negative attachment to it, especially to people who live more comfortable, less competitive lives, but it's different for people like Lebron who's faced more options to deem definitions toward. Their relationship works on workable problems. Not to be confused with a big.. actual actual disruptive problem. Lebron is a big solver who turns into a big feeler when something isn't solved right and AD is a big feeler who turns into a big solver when something doesn't feel right. They work well with each other because they work WELL with each other. They compensate not JUST bcs they're willing.. but because they both see it as a NEED. They're both 110% devoted (afterwards) to help out on a problem.

BUT..... the whole thing with little problems... can be a Little difficult tho. Sometimes. And it's not about having those little problems, because those are unavoidable and in both of their minds necessary for greater development...

it's maybe.. Not having any little problems. At least with the other. It's the problem of 'what more can we do?' That makes them antsy. If Lebron somehow started out with AD from the beginning as a sidekick (and not kyr*e first) .... like idk somehow they get on the same team sooner.. the relationship would still be good because it IS.. i just don't know how long it will be sometimes (both duration and depth). BCS LIKE. Lebron came off of a lot of issues during and after kyr*e. I'm not a big follower of bron, so I can't go into details, but I am an empathizer with him, even as an MJ fan. Lebron loved sticking with AD despite everyone making fun of him for being LeGM. That gave him a conflict he could easily conquer by showing out and connecting with AD, which in turn strengthens their relationship. But to start off on a cleaner slate..? With less issues to work with him on and in turn grow closer with him?

In my opinion, it's a relationship that works best the way it was found. If you take it out of the timeline too forward or backwards.. it'll still be compatible.. but it won't be. it won't have the OOMF, u know?

which leads me to say..... i think it's a relationship that really has to be like. A 2nd/3rd one. Like a trying again NOT WITH EACHOTHER but with the self. You can't just HAVE it.. and it'll be.. IT, you know? It's a strong relationship.. but it definitely NEEDS other factors that aren't exactly from the self to make it work even stronger BCS IT ALREADY IS STRONG FROM THE SELF... there IS a connection and an ability to make that connection even stronger.. it just needs an external enzyme to activate that. They can't exactly just activate that themselves with them alone. They need at least a little something else to push them into shared goals.

SO LIKE I MEAN!!! I LIKE IT ! I DO !!!!! But i think I like it a lot more as good friends bcs idk... I feel like you'll just get that more the more you try to adjust the timepieces and whatnot. Like yeah, they're super helpful to each other when pushed to be, but they're always kinda helpful to each other in general and the fact that they need a push that's forced to be outside just.. idk. It makes the friendship go from a lot less magical to me and more mechanical.. there's more reasons and definitions for it WHICH SOME PEOPLE DO LIKE!!!!! I definitely like being able to say more stuff about things!

But idk... im kind of a sap for things being sometimes just like... u know! They besties! They love each other! Besties!!!

The whole addition of the need cycle makes it go from besties!!! To woooah! Here's a reason for why that happened and if that reason wasn't there this would not be happening ! And it's not some cute elaborate romantical story from the heart.... it's cause and effect or cause and rebuttal. IDK MAN like it definitely WORKS. But like. Me, personally, VERYY personally, i love when things just sorta WORK and u can't really explain all the how's (bcs there's more than one. It's a whole jumbled story and more and more reasons for them to love/interact deeply with each other) but it just kinda.. WORKS !

If the people were even slightly different, like if ad wasn't the person he was.. it would not run like that. So they DO need that kind of specific relation between them to get that relationship specifically to survive below the surface.. so I CAN see the beauty in that tho!!! I just like seeing it better in something more platonic like a friendship tho... but i do understand the beauty of the working relationship and I think that's nice too :) !! It works great for them and especially lebron lol, maybe it's Him....

[brummiereader]

@emotionalcadaver really enjoyed this calmer chapter before the horror that's undoubtedly about to take place in the next 😬!

I have to say, I absolutely adore the way you follow so closely to the original story, adding further depth to it with Lucy's character and their relationship. I haven't re-watched the series in a while. So I feel like I'm rediscovering it through your incredible series once again 😍!

I really enjoy the little bubble you have created for them. It feels like it's them against the world. But it's fitting and true to their characters. They're both each others ride or die. Something we see towards the end of the chapter when Lucy refuses to not leave Tommy's side.

“Bye, bye, you terrible, terrible hat,” she smiled to herself as the fire popped, flames consuming the bowler hat quickly" The first part of this chapter had me giggling so much, when she watches his ugly hat burn in the fire 😂. Their playfulness feels so unique to them, and I just love how Tommy lets her have her fun with it. You can see how much those smaller interactions between eachother briefly settle his mind 🥰.

The black hand 😬. Shits about to get intense for them again. Can I just point out how correct Lucy is with her observation 👆...I’m assuming it doesn’t matter to them that Vincente’s death was in retaliation for them killing Grace, right?” ??? Hello Luca 👋. Did you miss that 🙄? I know Angel was brutally beaten, but technically, he didn't die 😌. I remember thinking this when I watched the series!

“You…you have to tell me what to do,” she whispered. 👈 This is me. You need to give me something to do in a chaotic situation, else I'll lose my mind. And what I love most about this small detail is, Tommy was quick to give her something to do. Like he knew she would need to keep herself occupied with something to stop her worries taking other. Again, they're so similar. Like when Tommy lost himself when he went on "holiday". Having too much time to think, isn't always a good thing 😬.

I could see the image of Lucy watching Tommy and Charlie prepare Santas late night snack 🥰. They're an adorable little family, and like I said in my DM, I'm so happy they're family unit is strong enough for them to enjoy these special moments among the mess that's coming their way.

“I suppose this all sort of puts a damper on the Christmas Eve blow job I had planned, doesn’t it?” 🤣 i love it! His reaction was as equally funny. I know for a fact he wasn't about to turn down that offer. If Ada wouldn't have turned up, they would have been at it in seconds 😂👌!

Gosh, it's actually a little tormenting seeing the rift between him and his family. We get a good glimpse of it in the show. But in your writing, it feels even more heartbreaking. You can see how much he leans on Lucy's support, never wanting her to be far from him. I find it so sweet how he asks her to stay and keep him company. It's melting my heart 😩!

He’d pulled her into his arms almost as soon as he sat down. Even though he’d been mostly silent, just brooding and strategizing, she could recognize the silent desire to keep her close. Probably out of both protectiveness and the need for comfort. I loved everything about this. She's his anchor ❤️. I'm so far behind, and I'm not sure if you've written anything like it yet, but I'm curious to know how Tommy reacts to Lucy being in danger or hurt. I can imagine he'd go on a rampage turning Birmingham up side down, until he knows she's safe 😳!

“He’s Italian, sir,” Frances said. Lucy’s eyes snapped open. Both Tommy and Lucy’s heads whipped around to her. “What assistant?” they both asked at the same time" the mutual realisation had me on the edge of my seat 😬.

I know he wants to keep her safe, and I love the fact he's hasn't asked her to do anything that would put her in danger for over a year. But I could never imagine Lucy sitting still. They're both so mutually stubborn when it comes to the others safety. Like you've told me in DM's, they come as a package. And I'm starting to understand, that applies to everything 😍!

Arghh 😱! I can't wait to see what happens next, something tells me it's going to be bloody 😏😈! Fantastic chapter hun, what an exciting series you've created!

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: A letter is delivered to Arrow House, and with it comes promises of death and destruction.

Word Count: 4,403

Notes: Warnings for references to violence and sexual content.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 2: Black Hand

With perhaps a bit more relish than was necessary–though in her defense, the hat had truly offended her–Lucy tossed the aforementioned article of clothing into the fire, purring happily to herself as she watched the fine black fabric shrivel and char. 

In all fairness, if Tommy really had liked the hat that much, she wouldn’t have been on such a warpath to destroy it. But she could tell he didn’t really care for it either, and as his lover she felt it was her responsibility to save him from any truly terrible fashion choices he attempted to make.

“Bye, bye, you terrible, terrible hat,” she smiled to herself as the fire popped, flames consuming the bowler hat quickly. Tommy rolled his eyes, chuckling fondly and pressing a kiss to her temple when he walked by on the way to his desk. 

“Happy now?”

“Mhm. Very. Thank you.”

He shot her that fond, I would do anything for you, look that made her go all mushy inside. Curling up in one of the armchairs by the fire with a cup of tea clutched in her hands, she watched him stand over his desk, flicking through the newspaper and looking far too handsome for his own good. She bit her lip, reminding herself to behave. 

She had plans for him, of course. But they could wait until after Charlie had gone to bed. 

Frances came in with the post and a few questions about the arrangements for tomorrow. She was a lovely woman who’d replaced Mary as the housekeeper almost a year ago. Lucy adored her. She was sweet and incredibly good with Charlie. They could rest easy with her looking after him while they were away. 

While Frances spoke with Tommy, Lucy let her gaze sweep lazily across the room. Next to the fireplace, a huge Christmas tree had been erected, adorned with red ribbons and candles. She and Tommy weren’t exactly religious, but they’d figured that for Charlie, they ought to at least indulge in a little bit of tradition. She eyed the small mountain of presents under the tree, most of them for Charlie, but she’d noticed many with her name scrawled on them in Tommy’s looping handwriting, and knew that there were a good share of gifts with Tommy’s name on them; some that she’d bought for Charlie to give to his father, and some that were specifically from her. 

Not too bad of a haul this year, if she did say so herself. 

Lucy flashed a grateful smile Frances’s way as the housekeeper departed the room, eyes tracking back to Tommy as the door swung shut behind her. He was flicking through the mail, expression uninterested until he came to one specific envelope. His face shifted as he tossed the other mail onto the desk, ripping open what to her looked to be but a nondescript, plain white envelope. 

“What is it?” Lucy asked, straightening up and setting her teacup down hastily when he opened it and she saw the look on his face as he took in the contents of the letter. At the way his expression collapsed into a look of horror and mild terror, she shot up out of her seat, rushing across the room to his desk. Already, she could see things happening behind Tommy’s eyes, his mind adjusting and working with whatever horrid new information had just been thrown at him. 

She hurried around to his side of the desk to stand next to him, head craning to examine the open letter he’d dropped onto its wooden surface. 

Scrawled on one side, in tight, meticulous cursive, it read: 

Merry Christmas to you and your family. 

From Luca Changretta & family.

On the other side, taking up the entire page, framed with a thick, black border, was the imprint of a single, ink black hand. 

“Holy fuck,” she took a staggering step back, as if the black hand printed upon the letter might somehow be contagious. “Holy fuck. That’s…”

“A black hand,” Tommy finished for her, voice sounding like it was very far away. “The Sicilian Mafia.”

“Luca Changretta is Vincente Changretta’s last living son, right?”

“That’s right,” he still sounded like he was only half there, mind racing with thoughts and developing strategies as he examined the new situation from every possible angle. “Everyone will have been sent one.”

“That means that they know where everyone lives.”

He nodded, slowly, staring at the far wall, still processing. Lucy decided to just shut her mouth and let him think. 

“Vendetta…” he whispered, more to himself than to her. Then, louder, “you remember what I told you about vendetta?”

Vendetta. An eye for an eye. Vengeance, usually in retaliation for the death of a family member, extracted in the form of complete and total destruction of the family or organization that had inflicted said death. 

No one would be safe. Not even those who did not know anything about what had transpired with Tommy, her, Arthur, John, and Vincente Changretta. 

“Yes,” she said, quietly, looking around the room, suddenly feeling lost. “I’m assuming it doesn’t matter to them that Vincente’s death was in retaliation for them killing Grace, right?”

“No,” Tommy shook his head. “No, it doesn’t matter,” he was still staring at the wall. “They’ll be coming for us all.”

She shivered, swallowing hard and turning away to face the windows,  rubbing a hand across her forehead and wetting her lips.

A year. They’d had a year of mostly peace. The sudden prospect of conflict had her feeling as though she were adrift at sea, panicky with the realization that she was not quite sure where to begin in how to handle the situation now developing in front of them. 

“Fuck,” she whispered under her breath. “Tommy…”

When she turned back to him, it was to find him standing with his hands braced widely on the desk, jaw clenched while his blue eyes just stared at nothing on the far wall. Tentatively, she put a hand on his shoulder, and he seemed to rouse a bit beneath her touch, sighing and then pulling himself back up to his full height. 

“You…you have to tell me what to do,” she whispered. He looked at her, and he must have seen a little of the mounting panic on her face, because he took hold of her hands, resting them on his chest and squeezing. 

“I need you to go get Charlie. Bring him in here with us. Make sure your revolver is loaded and with you at all times. Keep a couple knives with you too, just in case.”

She nodded, already feeling calmer at the authoritative tone in his voice as he took control of the situation. He leaned forward, kissing her forehead.   

“Be ready. They could come for us at any time.”

Nodding, she moved to go to the door. Tommy reached around to yank closed the curtains, plunging the office into dimness. 

“What will you do?”

“I need to call Moss,” he said, lighting a cigarette and reaching for the phone. “Get as much information on Luca Changretta and his men as possible.”

“He might be able to find out if they’re already in England.”

He nodded. “I’ll have him check.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back with Charlie,” she said, and stepped out of the room, heart pounding in her throat.   

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy raised an eyebrow as she watched Tommy pour a glass of whiskey from the crystal decanter on his desk. The action itself wasn’t necessarily odd. What was odd was his plucking it up along with the plate carrying a pastry and a carrot, and taking them over to where Charlie was sitting in a chair next to the fireplace.   

Perhaps Santa was in need of something a little stronger than a glass of milk, this year. 

She smiled to herself, sitting up slightly in her chair to watch as Charlie gingerly took the plate from Tommy, hopping out of his seat and following his father’s gentle instructions to set the plate down by the grate guarding the fireplace for Santa to find. Tommy knelt down next to him, and Lucy had to smother a laugh when he leaned over, nudging the glass of whiskey to join the plate.

Her heart squeezed happily at the sight of Tommy wrapping Charlie up in a big hug, the little boy looping his arms around his father’s neck while Tommy wished him a merry Christmas. 

They’d decided to do what they could to make things seem as normal as possible for the boy. So they wouldn’t scare him.

Slipping out of her chair, she knelt down, smiling when Charlie turned to her and hugged her too. 

“Good night, sweetheart,” she squeezed him back, giving him a kiss to the forehead. “Merry Christmas.”

He smiled sweetly at them both, then took Frances’s hand to let her lead him from the room and up the stairs to bed. Tommy remained kneeled on the floor, playing with his knuckles. Without Charlie there to provide motivation for them to keep up the facade that everything was alright, a dark cloud of foreboding seemed to pass over the room. 

Finally, with a grunt, Tommy leaned over, snagging the whiskey glass on the floor by the plate Charlie had dropped off, and stood. Lucy snatched up the plate, taking a bite of the pastry. Tommy’s steps boomed across the floor before cutting off with a large sigh, leather creaking a little when he sank into one of the chairs in front of his desk. Lucy watched him closely, licking a few crumbs off her fingers. He had his head tipped back, glass of whiskey dangling from one hand, and despite the clear stress and worry in his eyes, his lap looked very inviting.  

She shook her head, setting the plate down, trying to get her hormones in check no matter how difficult he made it sometimes. 

Slinking around to him, she settled herself carefully across his lap, arm wrapping around his neck. Her weight sinking into him seemed to help pull him from whatever thoughts had been swirling around in his head, the hand not still clutching his glass of whiskey wrapping around her waist. 

With a hum, she dropped her face into his neck, snuggling into his warm body. 

“I suppose this all sort of puts a damper on the Christmas Eve blow job I had planned, doesn’t it?”

His brows raised, and she was close enough to see the way that his pupils dilated slightly, tongue darting out to wet his lips. The warmth of his hand coming to rest on her thigh was nice, and did nothing to help in regards to the wrestling match she was currently engaged in with her need for him.

“Mm,” his hum vibrated in his chest, buzzing pleasantly against her. He touched her cheek, small smile pulling at the edges of his lips. “Well…maybe…”

He was cut off by the approaching roar of an engine outside, and both of them went still, smiles falling right off their faces, the brief moment of levity replaced by deep-seated dread. In one quick movement, Lucy jumped off of his lap to her feet. Tommy stood from the chair, setting his glass down on the desk and hurrying around it to peer out the closed drapes covering the window. 

Yanking out her keys, Lucy went for the door, stepping out into a sitting room. A moment later she heard Tommy’s hasty footfalls behind her, his longer stride meaning that he caught up to her quickly, taking the key she already had in her hand and held out to him. The locks on the cabinet in the sitting room clicked, creaking in minor complaint as they were shoved open. Nestled inside, carefully organized, were rows of guns of various sizes and firepower. Tommy grabbed two Mauser C96s with stock from the cupboard, handing one to her, closing up the doors again while she returned to the office, pulling the gun from its wooden holster stock and fitting it together to a click. She checked it while Tommy joined her a moment later, fitting his own gun together. 

It was not lost on her how, when he turned to again peer out the window at the approaching car, he positioned himself in a way that was shielding her. 

Headlights splashed yellow light across the window, and he jerked back, lowering the drapes until the light had passed by. The car outside had stopped moving but hadn’t shut off, just idling near the front door. Tommy peaked out again. Lucy stretched up onto her toes, trying in vain to see over one of his broad shoulders.  

Tommy suddenly relaxed, pulling away from the window. “It’s Ada.”

Lucy blinked, her mind so soaked with sudden adrenaline that it took her a second to process his words. The tension in her shoulders drained, grip loosening slightly on the gun. “Oh.”   

Tommy hummed, taking her gun from her and setting it down along with his onto the desk. She let out a heaving sigh, leaning forward until her forehead bumped into the center of his chest. He wrapped a soothing arm around her, rubbing her back as she took a deep breath. 

“Alright?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” she nodded, raising her head, giving her hands a little shake to try to dispel the lingering adrenaline. Tommy kissed the side of her head, then went to the decanter of whiskey, pouring a fresh glass and handing it to her. “Thanks.”

He nodded, prepping another one for Ada. Lucy took a generous gulp from her glass, the burn of the whiskey helping to settle the nerves the shot of adrenaline had left her with.

Ada looked more or less the same from the last time she’d seen her. Her hair was done a little fancier, her clothes more expensive, but under all that it was the same Ada.    

She rolled her eyes fondly when Tommy didn’t even start with a greeting, instead instantly jumping into rattling off about the letter. But he hugged her warmly with one arm, and Lucy smiled when Ada went to embrace her next, giving the woman who had become something like a sister to her a hug. 

“Hello, Ada.”

“Hi, Lucy,” she pulled back, moving about with her bag of presents towards the tree while Tommy continued to tell her everything he had already told Lucy regarding what information they’d been able to collect on Luca Changretta over the past few hours, as well as his orders and plans for a family meeting after Christmas. 

He gave Ada a gun to take with her before she left, and after another parting hug, she was out the door, heading to Polly’s. Lucy huffed. She wouldn’t want to have had that job. Out of all of them, Polly was the one who’d held the most wrath in her heart towards Tommy regarding the arrests and almost-hangings. Ada might have to knock her out and drag her to Charlie’s yard by the hair. 

Once she was gone and her car pulled off down the drive, Tommy rubbed at his eyes. “I need to call John and Arthur.”

Lucy nodded. She was a little surprised that he hadn’t already. If she didn’t know any better, she’s say he was procrastinating. Going to him, she wrapped her arms around his ribs in a hug. 

“If they’ve gotten the letters too, then they’ll know how serious things are. They may be stubborn, but they care about their wives and their children. They’ll do what they need to to keep them safe.”

He nodded, hugging her back. Pulling away just enough to angle her head up and kiss him, she felt him relax a little under her arms, humming against her lips. He touched her cheek after they parted, taking hold of a stray red curl that had fallen there and rubbing it between his fingers.

“I’m sorry that this has fucked up our Christmas.”

“Oh, love, no…” she cupped either side of his face, leaning her forehead against his. “It’s alright. We’ll be fine.”

He pecked her again, giving a slight squeeze to her waist before reaching for the phone. When she pulled away and moved to take a step back, he caught at her arm. 

“Stay,” he requested quietly. Feeling her face soften, Lucy nodded, lingering close to his side as he lifted the receiver to his ear, asking to be put through to John’s house. She listened as it rang, over and over again, until finally Tommy cursed and slammed it down. With a frown, she touched his shoulder.

“It’s late. Maybe they’re already asleep.”

“Maybe,” he didn’t sound wholly convinced, but he picked up the phone again, this time asking the operator to put him through to Arthur’s. This time, someone did pick up, and Lucy breathed a sigh of relief at the rumble of Arthur’s voice on the other line, and not Linda’s.

Tommy was quick and to the point with his instructions, hanging up the phone soon as he was done. 

“Okay,” she said, nodding to herself. “That’s done. What’s next?”

∗ ∗ ∗

She was curled in his lap, watching lazily as Tommy scribbled down notes. Her face rested in his neck, eyes blinking slow and sleepy. He’d pulled her into his arms almost as soon as he sat down. Even though he’d been mostly silent, just brooding and strategizing, she could recognize the silent desire to keep her close. Probably out of both protectiveness and the need for comfort. 

That was all fine with her; his lap was very comfortable, his chest warm. And he smelled good.

Unable to help herself, she turned her face to press a quick, light peck to one of his sharp, freckled cheekbones, nuzzling him like a cat. His hand petted the back of her head before falling to rest on her thigh. 

“You’re distracting me,” he hummed, a trace of amusement under the gruffness of his stress-strained voice. Lucy tucked her face back into his neck, smiling to herself as she watched him, his stern blue eyes never leaving the page he was staring at, blinking behind the lenses of his glasses as he spoke. 

“Sorry.”

He just pecked the top of her head with a small chuckle, and carried on working. 

She sighed, eyes drifting closed of their own accord. It had been a long day and she was tired. It was unlikely they’d be sleeping much, if at all, tonight, and tomorrow would be equally as long. She needed to catch some rest when she could.  

“If you’re tired, you could go up to bed. Or lay on the couch, if you’d rather…” Tommy started, hand stroking her thigh. 

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Comfortable here.”

His lips brushed her cheek. “Alright, then.”

Lucy was just starting to doze when Frances came in, and while she did not open her eyes or initially pay all that much attention to the conversation, she could practically feel it under Tommy’s skin as he battled to control his temper. Dropping one hand from where it was still locked around his neck, she rubbed his chest absentmindedly in a way that she hoped to be calming. 

Frances was still talking. Something about the chef asking questions. “He says it’s about preparation, sir.”

There was something about that. About the way it was phrased. Alarm bells went off, suddenly and sharply, in her head. Tommy’s muscles stiffened against her, no doubt because he was feeling the same thing that she was. He started to ask Frances more questions about the chef. 

He was new. He joined only about two months ago. Lucy remembered. He was also foreign.

“He’s Italian, sir,” Frances said. Lucy’s eyes snapped open. 

“Oh,” Tommy murmured, lips parted as he processed. He looked to Lucy, saw that her eyes were open and watching him. “When he joined us, you had background checks done on him?”

“Of course. They were all clean,” she was always careful. Especially when it came to anyone that they hired to work in the house. 

“He’s the best chef we’ve ever had in the house,” Frances supplied, answering all Tommy’s questions with no hesitation. She paused for a moment, then added, “the only problem has been his assistant.”

Both Tommy and Lucy’s heads whipped around to her. “What assistant?” they both asked at the same time. The hand Tommy had on Lucy’s thigh tightened protectively as Frances explained that the chef had brought a sous chef with him. 

Fuck. The chef had never mentioned bringing someone else with him during his interviews or when they brought him into the house.

Tommy dismissed Frances for the evening, and gave Lucy a light tap on the thigh to indicate that he wanted to stand. She jumped off of his lap. 

“Get me the chef’s employee file.”

“Yeah,” she went to the records, flipping through the files they kept on each employee until she found the right one, handing it over to him. “I never ran any background checks on a sous chef. I didn’t even know he’d brought one.” 

Tommy didn’t say anything as he took the file from her, flipping it open. She peered over his shoulder, biting her lip and wringing her hands together. He sorted through the papers, a couple of them menus from the chef’s previous locations of employment. He raised one up to the light. 

“San Marcos,” he said.

“Sabini used to own it. I asked you about it when I ran the checks on him. Because he’d never directly interacted with Sabini we decided it wasn’t an issue,” she tapped the note she’d made in the margin of the menu about it. “For all appearances, he looked to just be a normal employee there.”

“The assistant might not have been just a normal employee, though.”

“Sabini’s never exactly warmed to us. It wouldn’t take much for him to decide to help Changretta,” she bit her lip, looking down at the menu. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think–”

“Not your fault,” he shook his head. “I didn't think it would be an issue either,” looking over the papers in the file, he huffed. 

“I’m going to have to go down to the kitchens. You stay up here–”

“Absolutely not.”

“Love, please,” he rubbed at his eyes. 

“If the assistant is with the Changrettas, it’s possible others in the kitchen are too. I’m not about to let you be butchered and hung up on one of our own bloody meat hooks.”

He looked at her for a long time, and she sighed, reaching out, resting her hands on his forearms. 

“Vendetta is here, Tom. It’s happening. Which means as much as you may hate it, you may have to trust me to do one of the jobs you initially hired me for, but have barely let me actually do recently.”

His hands slid to cradle her elbows, frown deepening. “It’s not an issue of trust, Luce…”

“I know,” she leaned closer to him, foreheads resting against each other. Tommy’s jaw ticked, and she squeezed his arms. She knew why he didn’t send her out to kill people nearly as often as he probably should have; instead getting his brothers or another hired gun of theirs to carry out the bulk of assassinations.

It was part of what he had initially hired her to do when he brought her on. But that was before he fell in love–or at least, according to him, before he was aware that he’d fallen in love. And especially over the past year, the amount of killings he’d asked her to do were close to zero.  

She understood. After what happened to Grace, neither of them had been all too eager to leave the other’s side. He’d become protective. Even more than he’d already been.

“It’ll be okay,” she said hoarsely. “You’re not gonna lose me.”

He closed his eyes, looking as if he were in pain. Lucy squeezed him again, demanding his attention. 

“At the very least, you can’t ask me to just sit up here and hope that you come back from the kitchens in one piece. I can’t do that, Tommy,” she swallowed hard around a sudden lump of anxiousness in her throat. “I can’t just sit around here, doing nothing and feeling useless when you could be down there getting your head smashed in or worse–” sudden horrid memories, of that time he’d gone to kill Father John Hughes by himself and came back to her half dead, skull fractured and blood oozing from his ears, clinging to her as he danced on the line between life and death, as they waited helplessly for Ada to pull the car up to the hospital, hoping that it wouldn’t be too late–

“Alright, alright,” Tommy’s voice dropped, soothing as he took note of her panicked features. His hands grasped her face, guiding it to look up at him, his eyes open and staring at her sternly. He drew in a deep breath. “Alright,” he said, with more conviction, bending to her requests. She sagged a little in relief. The sternness in his eyes sharpened. “But you stay close to me.” 

“Of course.”

He examined her face for another moment, then nodded. His arm hooked around her shoulders, pulling her close to kiss her forehead before letting her go. “You have your knives?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

She followed him out the door, weaving through the halls and assorted rooms of the mansion.

“Thank you,” she whispered, truly grateful. Tommy looked over his shoulder at her, and while he said nothing, his eyes softened a fraction, understanding.

They both knew that the absolute bitch fit he would throw if he were asked to stay put while she placed herself into potential danger alone would be truly fantastic. One for the ages. They’d write about it in the history books.  

They got to the stairs leading down to the servant’s quarters and the kitchens, both of them staring in quiet dread at the darkness that the stairs led down to. 

Tommy moved first, hand resting on the wooden handrail, shoes thunking against the wood with every step down. Lucy took a deep breath, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, and followed him in his descent down into the darkness. 

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[yandereloversblog]

𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒

Random discussion I wanted to do cuz it's a shower thought about TR. It started as Bonten Mikey but it also fitted other characters and it turned into an essay >>'

Also incoming editing to these yandere discussions cuz I finally have a layout XD

Like your yandere asking you if you love them and you answering yes because Stockholm Syndrome, scared you'll get hurt more or punished and all that bullshit. Then that asshole hits you with the "Then how about we die together? Kill ourselves at the same time while holding eachother?" Cuz they're too tired to live but you huff and say no.

Before they can throw another temper tantrum/punish you you're gonna respond with "The afterlife isn't known at all, whether our souls might find each other there isn't guaranteed either, or if we'll be reincarnated at the same time. So I want to keep living with you for as long as I can and make even more memories. Maybe they'll help me find you again in our next life." And smile.

They turn so red from blushing and probably start crying cuz they think you love them so much, promising they'll make sure you two keep living together for a very long time while cuddling closely to you and clinging for dear life. Apologizing profusely about how they even brought it up and it was so insensitive to ask you to die with them when you wanted to live for such a lovely reason.

Meanwhile you're probably tied to the bed comforting them, with some will to live and escape left in you and you're not gonna let this lover's suicide trope ruin it.

Mikey for sure, that bitch just added 20 more years to his life because of this 💀 especially Bonten Mikey, like you saw light flash in his dead eyes for a minute when you were talking before he broke down crying. Kanto Mikey would break down too, a lot more queitly while clinging to you but he's sobbing and choking out apologies. I'm not even gonna bringing up Toman Mikey/Manila Mikey, cuz we know they'd start crying immediately and probably kneel for forgiveness cuz they wanted to end everything just because they were done with life when they should be greatful for even being able to breath the same air as you since you love them back.

Sanzu too, man just can't believe you actually wanna continue being with him after everything he's done. In Bonten it probably happens after Mikey fell from the roof with Takemichi and now he feels he can't protect you either but how dare you give him another reason to live? Meanwhile with Kanto and Toman Sanzu they fall in love all over again. Tbh they all probably gave you a mocking grin and said "So you finally learned." But bitch even the blind can see how he's shaking and crying without even realizing it. If you say "I love you" after that expect him to break down.

Kazutora, best way to manipulate this yandere hoe is like that, I feel like he turned so red and suddenly drank 247 energy drinks because he can't calm down or even go to sleep when remembering your words. Like do you actually mean that? Really? You love him that much? Is he even deserving of it? He was just about to let both of you rest but now his obsession got worse. Most definitely apologized for one or two hours and kept saying he loved you and would make sure you two lived as much as possible.

Izana, he might end up saying some "So you think I won't find you after we die? I'll drag you to hell with me if I have to!" But it's with a trembling voice and he's still tearing up cuz his abandonment issues are getting lowkey fixed. You wanna stay with him even after he's punished you so harshly? Of course you do, how could he doubt that you would want to die when you could live with him instead? Izana genuinely apologized for even bringing this up -ONE apology though- and he ended up giving you more privileges to breath after, probably began acting softer too.

Senju would have to be at a really low point in her life to ask that of you but you just made her do a 180 because this just confirmed you love her too right? Then as long as you want to live like that she will too! It's easy to escape her but if Senju managed to lock you down and you end up saying that to her??? Please get ready to be somewhat free again because she trusts that you love her and won't escape.

We also have Shinichiro, Chifuyu, Hakkai, Souya, Takemichi and Hinata who would fall for your words but they'd never try to do a double suicide cuz they don't want you to die or get hurt, especially not by them.

Naoto, Kakucho, Inui, Koko, Rindou, Emma, Yuzuha and Shion -Shion is kind of easily manipulated shush- would also never ask you of such a thing because they don't want to die when they have you in their life but there's a 1000% chance they fall for your words and become softer.

Meanwhile people like Draken, Ran, Mitsuya, Taiju, Baji, Muto, Nahoya, Mochi, Benkei and Kisaki are mostly moved by your words, like get that doki doki feeling but it probably was a test and you passed it with flying colors. They also don't trust you that well so nothing much changed other than they don't feel as suffocation as before.

With Hanma, Bonten Koko, Bonten Ran, Wakasa, Takeomi, South and Bad Toman Kisaki it definitely was a test and they don't believe you but are glad to know their punishments are working and you behave so well now/got Stockholm Syndrome.

[criscura]

Have you thought about doing other stories within the universe of your Tumbling Down story? Like how Mumen and Sonic or Badd and Garou got together? Tumbling Down was Saitama and Genos' story but the bits given about the other two couples made me want more. Like what was the stuff Sonic was dealing with that Saitama mentioned not to mention a good boy like Mumen finding good in Sonic. Or what Badd and Garou saw in eachother when their both hotheads, did Zenko play winggirl for her brother?

OKAY SO

if I spent any amount of time on them, I tried to figure out a little bit of the characters' backstory. I don't know that I'd write them--I sort of like having them be just bits in the background, and it's tough to make such a longterm thing with ships that I like but I'm not as invested in--BUT

I can at least explain how it happened XD Mumen, Sonic, Badd, and Garou's stories under the cut <3<3

Mumen was still with his fiance May when TD started. His running into Sonic in "Window Shopping" was when they first met, and when Saitama said that Sonic wasn't causing trouble so long as he was with them, Mumen really took that to heart. He started tailing Sonic for as long as he could to stop him from stealing anything or hurting anyone. Sonic was PISSED at first, but it turned into just another thing he had to deal with...until Mumen followed him "home" and realized the ninja was living in whatever empty spaces he could. Sonic hated him knowing about that part of his life, but Mumen was horrified. It became a new part of his self-appointed mission--bringing food, water, sheets, etc., in hopes that if Sonic was more comfortable, maybe he wouldn't be desperate enough to do such awful things to get by.

Of course this is eating up a lot of his time, and while May's used to him being out a lot of the time, he's even more distant than usual. Not mean, but distracted. He's mentioned Sonic and she's getting suspicious, especially when he's running off at all hours to try and help him. She doesn't think he's cheating, at least not at first--he's way too honest for that--but then he comes home one day with a very different vibe and they need to have a talk.

It was after he nearly stayed the night with Sonic because he was real fuckin' sick. Mumen (very belatedly, honestly) realized that not only did he not mind taking care of him, he was excited to get to spend more time with him, in a way that had gone beyond what a good Samaritan or even a friend would do. He thought Sonic was funny and charming and passionate and weirdly innocent in his own outlandish way, and he wanted more of that. He *understood *it...and it was something he couldn't ever share with May. Mumen was attracted to him too, and Sonic seemed like he reciprocated (with the added danger that he didn't give two shits about Mumen already being engaged if it seemed like his heart wasn't in that relationship anymore). However Mumen is a Very Good Boy and he *wouldn't *cheat, so he needed to talk things over with May first before they did anything.

After a bit they realized they were more getting married because that was what they were supposed to do rather than what they truly wanted. While they did care about each other a lot, it wasn't in a romantic way. They split (I think Mumen left her the apartment), and Mumen told Sonic to move in with him when he found a new place. Around then was when Sonic started to seriously rethink his lifestyle. Being with Mumen in a stable home, taking care of and being taken care of by someone you really loved, having the opportunity to fall into a deep sleep without worrying that you're going to be found out or attacked.... It was all way too much and too tempting for him, and he decided he wanted to change. And that was pretty much it for them. Low and slow, with a bit of a dramatic start ;;;

Badd and Garou just follow the fucking trajectory set up for them in the manga honestly XD I mean they've already got chemistry up the fucking waZOO. They're already fully together when TD starts. For how they fell into it, though, I think they run into each other and fight, or one of them seeks the other out, and both of them being who they are don't care much about their pasts as long as they aren't shitty now. I think they might've had a full on fighting-to-fucking moment (or close to it). After that it was a puppy love ordeal where neither of them had dated before and they didn't know how to conduct themselves. Maybe they tried in vain to go about dating in the traditional way, only to realize neither of them had the patience for it and they'd much rather just violently fuck before getting a pizza. Truly boys being boys but like. In the sweet way XD

Zenko does get pissed off and tries to help, but they're kinda lost causes. She gets another big brother, though, and Badd--for fucking ONCE--is smiling more than he's frowning, so she's honestly ecstatic. She's SO HAPPY her brother found someone who makes him look that excited to come home from work every day that isn't just her and their cat.

Badd and Garou get a lot more flack for their relationship from the HA than any other couple, though, because Garou wreaked so much havoc so publicly for so long. It's impossible to frame their relationship in a way that won't reflect really poorly on the association. Amai is convinced if they're too open about it, it's going to look like the HA set up Garou's mission or that not even the S-class care that much about keeping the world safe from monsters, and they're gonna start to lose donations for a fund that's already not really cutting it. He's a lot harsher on them than anyone else. They're pissed but it doesn't really stop them. Garou lives with them, after all--no matter what Badd's coming home to him at the end of the night, and in the morning the whole family's gonna wander bleary-eyed into the kitchen for breakfast (kitty included).

[hslotharrie]

valentines (a.m)

summary: when reader and harry go home from their valentine’s day date.

word count: 2741

warnings: fluff, smut. slight bit of a choking thing going on. not edited as per usual!

tags: @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist

read part 1 here!

After your meal and a hearty slice of double chocolate cake, you're both stuffed.

The restaurant is much quieter now, nearing it's closing hours. Harry's hand is joined with yours across the table as he continues to munch away at the remnants of the cake. He hums along to whatever music plays quietly over the sound system until something crosses his mind and you're chatting away again.

You're smitten with him. He could be talking about something completely absurd and you would still be looking at him with more love and adoration in your eyes than should be humanly possible. The day you met, you fell in love with his personality, his mannerisms, him. And, when prompted (though sometimes not), he would say the same about you; meant to be.

Your pretty new necklace is now hanging safe around your neck, perfectly accenting your shirt just as Harry somehow had planned. Shocker. An inside joke, 'Harry magic', is announced when something works out perfectly in his favor. An unreasonably frequent occurrence, in your opinion, though you can't complain.

The plate is empty (spare the streaks of frosting and crumbs you both couldn't scoop up) and your drinks are finished. You're both up at the bar now, Harry's politely complimenting his experience to the teller while using the card machine to play your bill. It makes you smile how close he keeps you even at the mostly empty pub area, you're unmistakably his, right on his hip.

While he's doing his thing, you zone out on the sports television. They're saying something about some scandalous faked injury and you're not all that interested, but it's there, and—

"Do y'come here often?" Harry jokes, pulling you out of your trance. You let out a snort, turning your attention back to him and flashing your most innocent look,

"I do, actually! With my boyfriend, have you seen him?" you tease back, grinning when his hand wraps around your waist.

"Hmmm, can't say I have," he replies, faking thought "D'you want t'get out of here then?"

You lean back on the bar top, pretending to contemplate while his smile grows. He's feeling touchy, desperate to get you home but you know he's playing it down because of the public setting. Too many eyes.

Before you know it, Harry's leading you to the rather cold car and he's backing out of the parking place, inching towards the main highway to get you both home. His hand lays gently on your mid thigh, thumb rubbing delicate circles and patterns.

He hands you his phone to play some music through the bluetooth, and after struggling with what to play for a few minutes, you decide to play it safe and hit shuffle on his favourites playlist. He hums, braking out into lyric every now and then. The volume is low, his voice standing out against the tune.

It's quiet, but not so, at the same time. A pleasant medium.

"Can we have a bath when w'get home?" Harry asks, glancing in your direction only for a few seconds.

"Only if you wash my hair," you tease in return.

...

Soon you're pulling into the driveway, you both do a funny little run to the front door because of the cold. It causes a fit of giggles to erupt between you while Harry unlocks the door to your warm home. As soon as you're inside, he pulls you in for a kiss; holding your jaw with one hand and the back of your neck with the other to keep you close.

His kisses are soft, slow, and loving. You could feel the need behind them, but you still had a bath to get to so the kisses stayed kisses.

Harry pulls away, pressing one more peck to your lips before announcing that he's 'going to get some candles for the bath!' and scurrying away somewhere within your living room. Your shoes and coats are forgotten messily in the entryway as you head upstairs to start the warm bath.

You plug the large bathtub and then start the water, adjusting the temperature to a comfortable warm. Harry soon appears behind you in the doorway with your favourite candles and both of your bathrobes.

He places the candles with his own careful consideration and lights each of them with a lighter. When he finishes, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

Harry notices the bath is nearing full, so with a smirk, his hands venture through your open tucked shirt to tickle along your back. You chuckle, leaning your foreheads together as his hands slowly untuck your shirt and then rise to push the fabric off of your shoulders. He dips down, pressing quick kisses along your neck, reaching your collarbone before you have to reluctantly push him away.

"Bath first, H." you murmur, pulling his head back to meet his eyes.

He does nothing but hums in reply, a big smirk still plastered on his face. You start unbuttoning his shirt, teasing him on purpose. You step back to admire the fake shock-offended expression you've created on his face before slipping off your bottoms and sliding into the warm bath water, leaning ahead to shut off the tap.

After murmuring something about you being a little minx, Harry shrugs off his clothes and sinks in behind you. For a moment, you relax into eachother. The comfortably hot water soothes your skin. It's bliss.

Until Harry's lips begin to roam. And his hands, too.

It started out innocent, just a few light kisses on your shoulder, but those grew into nips, bites, and soon he's blooming purple flowers along the line of your neck. You sigh as his hands roam the parts of your body exposed from the warm water.

Harry slides his foot to the tub drain, moving it to the side to allow the water to escape. Harry's hands continue to tease over your skin, lightly tracing from your collarbones, between your breasts, then skipping over your middle to run a finger down your thigh, lowering his touch as the water drains.

"Beautiful, every inch of y'body," he breathes, just under your ear.

"Harry," you warn in return, attempting to squeeze your legs together when he traces particularly low. He only hushes you in reply.

You can feel him behind you, getting hard against your lower back. A sly smirk on his face as he watches your skin tense as he traces all the way down your thighs only to skip over your most sensitive area and drag a finger up your stomach. To tell the truth, Harry loves the desperate, sensitive reactions you give him. He's having fun teasing you.

The water is gone now, completely down the drain. He nips once at your ear before his fingers travel feather-light down your thighs and this time they don't jump to your chest. He's holding his middle finger over your clit, no movement but it's pressure and it's there. The shock makes an uncontrollable gasp escape your throat and your legs try to snap shut again.

Harry hooks his foot around your ankle, successfully pinning your leg against the side of the tub and thus allowing enough space for him rub slow circles around your little bundle of nerves. You get more and more sensitive, and soon he pulls his fingers away from your clit only to slide two swiftly through your entrance.

Your jaw is wide open and your head is thrown back against his shoulder. You can see the growing, entertained, smile on his face as he pumps his fingers and you whine out. You're beginning to tighten, he can feel it, so he snakes the hand previously holding your hip up to wrap gently around your neck.

Your breathing turns into gasps and your fingertips turn white from holding the sides of the tub. Your pussy starts to flutter, hips jaunting, and Harry's adding pressure to your neck as he feels you near closer to your break.

You can almost feel the smug smile on his face. He's enjoying getting you off on his fingers, making you feel good, and he always has. He matches your moans with his own, cheering you on.

"Harry," you whine, breathless.

"Y'can let go, baby. Let me feel y'cum," he says.

He holds you through it, moaning along with you when you come undone. His hold on your neck tightens just a tad more, making your head foggy in the best way. His fingers don't stop until you're forcing him away, breathing heavily and twitching from over-stimulation.

When you come down, you let out a quiet giggle through your huffs of air. Harry wraps you in a hug from behind, pressing a kiss to your cheek and letting out a few giggles of his own.

"Didnt wash my hair," you joke. Harry snorts in reply.

"Would have you rathered I washed y'hair instead?"

"...No."

"Ah, need I say more?," He says, quiet and close to your ear, just the sound of his breathy whisper shivers down your spine.

You sit forward, giggling at the hiss Harry makes from the relief of pressure on his dick. You stand and step out of the shower,  grabbing one of Harry's soft towels and patting the remaining dampness off of your body. Harry watches like a lost puppy, hurt almost, cock hard against his tummy.

You throw the towel onto him, flashing him a smirk and walk backwards towards the door to your bedroom.

"I'm not 'gonna fuck you in the tub, H." you say, arms folded while he stands to dry himself.

"Going t'fuck me?" he pats dry his chest and legs with little effort, giving up when you stop at the door to look him up and down.

There's about three seconds of silence when the both of you just stare, taking in each other's bodies before your eyes meet again and he's dropping the towel to step towards you.

Harry brings both of his palms to your face and kisses you hard. He nudges you backwards, guiding you to the bed. Just as the back of your legs hit the mattress, he gently pushes you enough for you to lose balance and fall onto the plushy sheets. He stands, taking you in.

You move back on the bed to allow Harry some room to join you. The mattress dips with his weight and you then feel him pressing opened mouth kisses on your neck, light scruff scratching along where his lips and tongue don't soothe. The tip of his cock is resting just below your hip bone, leaking; telling the truth of just how much you turn him on.

"M'gonna fuck you baby," Harry almost warns "so good."

"So good." you agree, watching as he slides himself between your legs and brings each of your thighs to wrap around his hips.

Suddenly, he's taking your wrists and pinning them above your head, using one hand to hold them while he uses the other to tap the tip of his cock against your clit. You let out a quiet whine, your pussy clenching around nothing.

"Harry— fuck, please," you beg, squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation.

He guides himself to your entrance, teasing over your hole a few times before sliding in all at once. You both let out a loud groan, your jaw drops and you struggle against his hold on your wrists. Harrys in his own world, eyebrows furrowed as he brings another hand to hold your wrists and drops his head into your neck to compose himself.

"You're squeezin' me so tight, so fuckin' wet."

He slides out slowly, then snaps his hips forward. He moans again; the sweet sound blending with your own.

"So warm, baby, takin' me so well." he coos, pulling out just to the tip and pushing in again, setting a steady pace this time.

You can feel him deep. Every vein, the soft ridge of the head of his cock, every time his skin comes in contact with yours sends a jolt through your body. You can feel his breaths against your collar bone, building himself up so that he can truly fuck you.

And he does.

When he's confident he's got enough control over himself, he brings a hand down to your hip to use as leverage as he begins pounding into you without warning. Your head flies back into the mattress, a long needy moan breaks out of your throat as his hips snap into your own. It's not long before you feel the pit in your stomach begin to knot, and when harry feels your pussy begin to flutter he's moving the hand on your hip to rub fast around your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Give it t'me baby, you can cum, let go," he sighs, out of breath.

You give in, whining loudly and then moaning out a few loud ah ah ah!'s as he keeps his relentless pace even through your orgasm.

He slows only slightly, letting you get your bearings. He finds your eyes, making sure you're alright before flipping so he's sitting with you on his lap, holding your arms behind your back. You moan out at the new angle— he feels deeper this way.

Somehow, you convince your legs to move, sliding up and down on his cock. You're whimpering uncontrollably, Harry presses a kiss to your lips before leaning down to take one of your breasts into his mouth. You yelp, already feeling another high approaching.

Harry, of course, can tell. He releases your arms and your breast to wrap one hand around your throat, much like in the bath, and holds your hip with the other so he can fuck into you again. You almost cry with the joined sensation, wrapping both of your hands around his forearm and locking eyes with him.

There's sweat joining at his hairline, on his neck, down his chest and, fuck, it's the hottest thing you've ever seen. His eyebrows are creased together, jaw open, he's panting. He's slamming into you, keeping a medium level squeeze on your neck and trying his hardest to bring you to a second high before he meets his limit. The rings on his fingers, especially the shiny new silver ones, provide the perfect amount of bite to his grip on you. Harry magic.

He’s hitting that spot inside of you every time he thrusts and he can’t believe how tight you are. He’s losing control, fast, and his desperate whines are nearly overpowering your own at this point.

“Baby, need you to cum,” he begs, watching your eyes. You can tell he’s close, his jaw is clenched and his rhythm falters every now and then.

“Baby, please,” he whines again, out of breath. “cum around my cock.”

His thumb hardly had time to find your clit before your body tenses, the white hot feeling of your third orgasm washing over you. Harry isn’t far behind, both of his arms wrap around you to hold you close as his hips snap up one final time and warm spurts are coating your walls.

His head is tucked into the bend of your neck as he lets out a loud groan of pleasure, milking his orgasm and pulsing inside of you. You can’t help but smile and hold him through it. Gently, you knit your fingers into his hair to bring him back

When he’s caught his breath, you pull away. Harry lets out a quiet hiss when you do, but he’s got a drowsy smile on his face and presses a quick kiss to your lips before he rotates and gives you a gentle push onto the bed.

His feet pad to the bathroom and you can hear him wetting a cloth to clean you and himself up with. When he returns he kisses you again, slower this time, before bringing the damp warm cloth to your inner thigh, testing the temperature before gently cleaning you off. You still flinch though, sensitive, and Harry meets your eyes before he continues.

“Alrigh’?” he asks quietly, more to soothe than to assure your comfort. You nod, allowing him to finish and throw the cloth in the direction of the bathroom and crawl into bed beside you.

“Wha’ time’s it?” you whisper to Harry beside you. He shuffles to his side to check his phone, cringing at the brightness and then flopping back into bed beside you.

“Twelve fourteen,”

He presses a light, sweet kiss to your lips; knowing what you’re about to say.

“Happy valentine’s day, H.”

[mxchellesworld]

YASSS. So my smut request is reader and Matthew are best friends, she can be a stand up comedian or something and they're just watching telly one night, and get drunk & stoned (ignore one or both, if that makes you uncomfy). They blurt out their feelings for eachother, and end up having sex. In the process, she tells Matthew her first time/previous relationship the guy didn't treat her well, especially during sex and Matthew is so sweet about it and is so gentle. Also, when he's undressing her/she's undressing him he sees she has nipple piercings/navel bar and gets more turned on & loves her even more than he already does.

a/n: this was very similar to a few things i’ve written before so i hope its ok i switched things up a little. hope you enjoy!

you and matthew had been friends for years. he had gone to one of your shows and knew he needed to meet you after. most of your bits he helped come up with or revolved around some shenanigans you got into. 

you were currently in his backyard, it was late september so the nights were now breezy and you could comfortably be wrapped in one of his large sweaters. the day was spent hanging orange lights and getting out a few halloween decorations. 

you decided to unwind by packing a bowl with a new pipe he bought, that not surprisingly had a skull at the end. while you handled that he went inside to grab a few snacks and drinks. 

conversation flowed smoothly as you were pleasantly floaty. you had started to talk about a new bit for your show that coming saturday. it was about shitty ex boyfriends, taking inspiration from the guy you were with just this time last year. 

you didn’t seem to notice but matthew had a sour look on his face. he never liked the guy, he seemed too uptight and was very controlling, but the icing on the cake was the story you were telling. 

“god and don’t get me started on the sex. i think he might’ve made me cum like 4 times out of the year and a half we were together. he always always worried about himself and sometimes got too rough. glad thats over,” you said taking a sip from your glass.

matthew was watching you intensely and spoke softly, “i’d never treat you like that y/n/n” 

you reached over and grabbed his hand, “i know bub,” you gulped before continuing, “and i love you for it.”

“you love me?” he asked wide eyed

“course i do, i wouldn’t bust my ass hanging these lights for just anyone,” you both let out small giggles before he continued again. 

“well i love you too and it pains me to know someone didn’t treat you like angel you are.” you were hanging on to every word he was saying, large auburn eyes boring into yours. “please let me show you how you deserve to be treated,” he said inching slightly closer to your face. 

you quickly nodded and he closed the space between you. lips crashing, his hands went to the sides of your face pulling you even impossibly closer. you moaned at the taste of the sweet lemonade he’d been drinking. eventually you pulled away for air, gasping the cool night air. he stood up and extended his hand for you place yours in his. 

you followed suit and he led you into his bedroom, both of you speed walking like eager teenagers. once the door was closed you both raced to rip each others clothes off, admiring the figures you’d each been craving for so long. 

you fell back onto the bed and he wasted no time in settling on top of you, thigh in between your legs, rocking as you connected your lips again. your head fell back letting out gasps at the friction. you felt his lips traveled down your chest to wrap around one of the little bars in your hard peaks. 

your hands fell to his hair, running through his curly locks and giving slight tugs. his right hand made its way down to your center, groaning around your nipple at the feel of you being so drenched already. he easily slipped in a finger causing you to let out a sweet sigh of his name. 

“feeling good sweetheart?”

you nodded and he continued to pump it in and out before adding a second finger, this time starting to curl them. 

“fuck matthew,” you whimpered. it was like he knew exactly what spots to hit that would make you unravel for him. 

you felt him press kisses even lower on your tummy before reaching where you needed him most. soft pink lips wrapped around your clit, making you let out a cry of pleasure. 

his fingers didn’t let up and you could feel the knot in your belly getting tighter. you were grinding your hips on his face, hands grasping the sheets for some way to stable yourself. 

he was eating you like his last meal. moaning into you at the taste of your sweet essence all over his tongue. one last curl of his fingers and you felt your orgasm wash over you. his hands slowing slightly to bring you down from your high. 

you pulled him up for a deep kiss, tasting yourself in his lips. he fell next to you and pulled you into his chest. you looked up at him, “what about you?”

“we can do more later sweetheart,” he said placing a kiss on your forehead, “get some rest now because later i’m making up for all the times that loser couldn’t make you cum.”

and that was promise you knew would be kept.

[articharys]

Ignore if you don't want to write it but maybe Spencer and reader get drunk & smoke after a case, (how they relax after a tough one) and end up admitting their feelings for eachother (they're best friends) and end up having sex. ???

Ok I literally just got this ask but I love It so I’m writing it.

requests are open btw, please send some in :)

warnings: sex, drinking, uses of weed, swearing. i think that's it

After every hard case, you and your best friend, Spencer Reid, would head to either one of your apartments and relax. And by relax you meant getting way too drunk and or high to comprehend the things coming out of your mouth. It had almost become a tradition. Of course, not having a filter when drunk meant you didn’t really care what you said (within reason) and that was never a good idea around Spencer.

You had developed a crush on the doctor after a year in the BAU, it was a gradual thing that started when one day he brought you your favourite drink into work. And yes, you did work out the exact day you fell for your best friend but that’s beside the point.

Spencer came in, hair drenched from the rain outside and holding one of those disposable cups from your favourite coffee shop

His face broadened into a big smile as he saw you battling all your paperwork at your desk,

“good morning, thought you would need this.” He said, dropping your drink of at the side of the desk and moving towards his own.

“you’re the best you know that”

“I know”

“oi, earth to y/n?” spencer questioned, pulling you out of your daydream and back into the bottle he was holding in front of you. You turn and face Spencer, limbs getting tangled in the process.

Smoke rolls out of Spencer’s lips shielding his face from view before reappearing before you could complain.

“ok that one definitely looked like a cloud.” You said, voice slurred slightly as the alcohol caught up to you.

Spencer disagrees for the twentieth time saying “no that just looked like a blob. Let me try again” before bringing the joint back to his lips and taking another slow drag, eyes half-lidded as he stares down at the glowing cherry growing dangerously close to his fingers. His eyes slip shut, his head tilts back, and a few thick, perfect smoke rings slip free from his pursed lips.

A flash of light brown peeks through his lashes, making sure you were watching.  “Show-off,” you accuse. He only smirks and moves on to a different topic of conversation.

His smirk makes your heartbeat faster, but you don’t dwell on it for two long as Spencer comes closer to you to pass the bottle of some alcohol you forgot the name of, but once the bottle was passed he didn’t stop and instead moved between your legs. Your back pressed hard on the coffee table behind you while Spencer placed his hands your thighs before his eyelids drooped.

You grab onto Spencer’s shoulders to steady him and ask, “you ok there spence?”

“just peachy, thank you.” Spencer moved closer to you, seemingly taking in everything he could about you, “you are very pretty y/n, so pretty”

A blush appeared on your face and before you knew it Spencer’s mouth was on yours. A mix of alcohol and weed invaded your senses and though it was a weird combination it was still somewhat comforting.

Though Reid sat between your legs you somehow made your way onto his lap,

“I feel tall now, you’re a tall ass guy” you say, thinking of the first thing that comes to mind and saying it out loud. It doesn’t last long because as soon as you finish your babbling Spencer kisses you again, harder this time. After a while you start to really work your hips into him, feeling your own desire burning.

You sit back grinding into him as you take another drag and he runs his hands over your torso, cupping your breasts through your shirt and pushing the offending material up and off you. He hungrily kisses between your breasts and stretches an arm behind you to unclasp your bra. He watches you exhale again. You pass it back to him and toss your bra to the side while he hits the dwindling length of the joint. He’s all soft smiles and heavy eyes as he lays his back of the front of his sofa. You follow him, pressing your exposed bodies together.

“You feel good” you say, kissing your way across his chest, teasing a nipple with your tongue and making him squirm and laugh a little more than normal.

"I’m so good right now," he smiles, taking one last long drag off the joint as you’re venturing lower, kissing his stomach and hips, hands finally reaching to his fly. You look up and watch him lick his thumb and forefinger pressing them quickly to the burning end of the joint, extinguishing what’s left before placing it with the tin on the coffee table in front of you both.

You press your mouth against his boxer clad erection protruding from his open fly, drawing slow open mouth kisses up its length. You feel him extend an arm and run a hand up and down your back and you know what he means. Every touch, every sensation feels heightened and magnified.

His fingertips turn your skin to Goosebumps and you’re all too willing to follow that hand back up and let him pull you close to him. He pushes down his jeans and you separate momentarily to rid yourself of the rest of your own clothing. All you want right now is to feel his naked body against yours, and he seems to sense this, or need the same, as he rolls you over and climbs on top of you the second you’ve both discarded your pants and underwear.

He kisses you and you can feel his erection pressed against your thigh, so you reach down to tug it gently in your hands. He moans into your mouth, tongue never leaving yours and traces his own hand down your body, stopping briefly to roll a nipple between his fingers. “Spencer, please,” you whine, arching against him and tightening your grip on his dick so he understands the urgency in your voice.

Your limbs feel slow and weighted, but your body responds to his touch amazingly quick and you can feel the pleasure radiating through you from where he’s touching.

You align his dick with yourself and look up at him with pleading eyes, you moan as he sinks into your pussy and at the same time he lowers himself down against your body.

You’re momentarily lost in sensory overload. His fingers start rubbing circles against your clit and you moan at the added sensation of having him inside you and stretching you out. His mouth is at your neck, kissing, licking, sucking a trail up and down in between your ear and shoulder, every touch adding to the building pleasure.

He starts to move, pumping slowly in and out of you and his breathless gasps and abbreviated moans tells you it feels as good for him as it does for you. His hand against your clit is sending coursing pleasure through you and you feel yourself already starting to clench as your grind back against him, meeting each of his slow, measured thrusts. It’s like you can feel every inch of him inside you, pressing all the way into you.

You bury yourself against his neck, moaning into his ear and drinking in his smell of complimentary soap and marijuana, the faintest tinges of sweat and alcohol permeating through the mask.

You feel him filling every inch of you and your body starts to shake against him, right on the brink of orgasm. His fingers are still working your clit and you feel them speed up, knowing how close you are. You’re consumed by a dizzying burst of pleasure as your climax begins to rip through you, arching up into him, screaming his name, as all you feel is course after course of shuddering release ripple through you. You clench and buck against him and you can still feel every nerve ending explode as his dick passes over. You feel him wrench his hand away and press into the sofa next to you to brace himself as he slams into you hard for his final thrusts. Your pussy is still clamping around him as he buries himself deep and you feel him groan in release. You hold him close and feel him grind himself into you as he comes deep inside you, both of your hips still giving small involuntary thrusts as your orgasms linger and slowly dissipate.

“Stoned sex is the best sex, I’m telling you.”

“shut up”

taglist:

(click here to be added)

@slutforthegubes @nataliealvarado-blog @sarcasticallywitty15  

people who i think would like this:

@shyvirgoanon @g0ldengubler @collegestudentvevo @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @pumpkin-goob @spencessmile @spencersprentiss @spencersblog @peachpitfics @railmereid @reidsconverse @insufferablelust @wonderlandhatter @sleepyreid @reidaways @yours-truly-nsfw @yours-truly-r @softyreid @illuxions-x 

a/n: this is like my 3rd fic ive posted today. weird.