#I nearly swore there 🤣

[writing-for-life]

Dream—Mindy Lee

[madhatterbri]

Pumpkin King | Hangman A.P.

Summary: Professor Page has a little too much to drink.

Author's Note: Professor Page AU. Happy Halloween, babes. ❤️ I shot it out to @smallestsnarkestgirl and she didn't think it was stupid so I wrote it. 😂🤣

Hangman Adam Page Masterlist

AEW Masterlist

Taglist: @theworldofotps @smallestsnarkestgirl @magicalbuttertarts @new-zealand-chic

"I'm the pumpkin king!"

Y/N nearly dropped her phone to the ground when she heard her boyfriend yell that in the background of her phone call. After not being able to reach her boyfriend, Adam, she decided to call his friend John.

"John, what is going on?"

"No, listen, Adam, shut up, Alex. We are just having fun at the football stadium. Adam found a pumpkin and smashed it to the ground. He's wearing it on his head. Now he's the one true pumpkin king. He is going to steal Christmas," John answered proudly. A few of his words were slurred. Four idiots that drank too much on Halloween night.

Y/N was supposed to go out, but she had to study for her midterms. Now, she had to leave her apartment in the middle of the night to bring them back to her place. She thought dating a professor would be easy.

By the time she pulled up to the stadium, she couldn't believe her eyes. Her boyfriend was shirtless with a pumpkin on his head. He stumbled a little as three of his friends cheered him on. As she walked closer, Y/N couldn't believe what she heard.

"Adam, you are the pumpkin king, and we are the creepy little kids," Alex Reynolds insisted.

"Yes! Yes! Uno, you are Lock cause he wears a mask. I'm Barrel and you are Shock,"

"I don't want to be the stupid girl," Alex whined. "You always make me the female character in Dungeons and Dragons too,"

"It's because Shock has long hair. Come on. It's funny. Three of us and the pumpkin king," John chuckled.

"Boys?" Y/N questioned. The Dark Order looked at her. Evil Uno appeared the most drunk as he barely spoke. "Get in the car. John, you better not puke in there and don't push Alex's hair in front of him when he's vomiting,"

"I knew you did that!" Alex shouted.

"I did not! She was driving. Y/N couldn't see in the backseat anyways," John defended.

The two friends walked to the backseat of the car while bickering. Y/N sighed and shook her head. Now she had to rope one more guy into her car. Her favorite guy.

"Hey, handsome," Y/N greeted pleasantly. "You having fun with the pumpkin on your head?"

"I'm the pumpkin king. I'm looking for my pumpkin queen, but she had to study," he pouted. His bottom lip poked out. Y/N swore she felt her heartstrings break.

"Why don't we put your shirt back on?" She asked.

Y/N placed her hand on his bare chest and stomach. She reached behind to grab the shirt that dangled from his back pocket.

"No! You aren't my pumpkin queen. This is for Y/N," he spoke and took a few steps back.

Y/N sighed. "I am your girlfriend, Adam. I'm Y/N,"

"Y/N!" He called out. His light eyes widened as if she suddenly appeared. He grabbed the smashed pumpkin from his head. Some of the pumpkin guts and seeds stuck to his hair. "You have to wear this to be my queen. Don't worry. I'll find another pumpkin,"

"No! Adam put that down. We are going home. You have a midterm to administer in the morning,"

"Did you study for yours? Did you get an A?"

Y/N pinched the ridge of her nose. "Yes, darling, I did. Now let's get you dressed and back to my apartment,"

Adam dropped the pumpkin on the ground after telling it goodbye. He allowed Y/N to grab his shirt. With little struggle, his shirt was back where it belonged. "This was the best night ever. I have my pumpkin queen, and I got my boys,"

"I'm glad you had fun, baby. Let's go," Y/N insisted. Adam stumbled behind her. Their fingers interlocked. He sat in the passenger seat. Y/N made her way to the driver seat.

"Okay, boys, buckle up. We are going back to my place since it's almost one in the morning. You have to be really quiet," she stressed.

To her surprise, the boys actually listened. Not the first time she had to pick them up, the Dark Order laid in their favorite position to fall asleep. They bid their pumpkin king a good night.

Adam sat on the bed. He swayed a little. Y/N helped take his boots and socks off. His shirt was the next to go. Before she could remove all the contents from inside the pumpkin from his head, he laid down on a pillow. The seeds and guts managed to stain her white pillowcases.

She climbed in bed next to him. His arms wrapped around her. Y/N cringed at the feel of the pumpkin yet sighed. This was probably the best way she could have possibly spent her Halloween night.

[chvoswxtch]

From one court to another court

I'm sooooooo happy for you! You deserve alllllllllll the follows (and likes and comments and reblogs)!!!

For your celebration, I would like to request a margarita with Matt that uses a similar theme to Meredith Grey's "pick me" speech from Grey's Anatomy. Not sure if you've seen it, but it's pretty angsty. The line can either come from Matt or reader. Direct quote below:

Okay, here it is. Your choice, it's simple, her or me. And I'm sure she's really great. But Derek, I love you. In a really, big really big pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your bedroom window, unfortunate way that makes me hate you... love you. So pick me. Choose me. Love me.

But for the love of all that's holy, it needs to have a happy ending 🤣

I love and appreciate you so much! Congratulations again!!!!!!!!

ahhh my lovely court!!!❤️

thank you so much, angel!! okay this is actually hilarious bc I was OBSESSED with grey's (like literally went into college as a premed bc I swore I was gonna be a surgeon) and meredith was always my favorite and the one I related to most.

i'm gonna make matty be the one to stand in the rain and pour his heart out dramatically bc he's a lil shit and I feel like he's gotten his fair share of love confessions and honestly it's his turn to beg. there is a lot of angst, but a happy, cheeky ending!

i love and appreciate YOU so much!!!! 🥂

blurb below the cut

pick me

pick me. choose me. love me.

Matt only had himself to blame for the jealousy coursing through his veins right now. He’d had his window with you. A long, six months to be exact, wide open window to confess how he really felt. There were several times along the way he almost did, when the truth nearly slipped past his lips almost as easily as his excuses for yet another superficial injury. When your hand slipped down his arm to tangle your fingers together as you languidly strolled behind Karen and Foggy down the busy streets of New York. When you leaned closer into his side as you sat together in one of the booths at Josie’s, even though you had plenty of room. When you pulled him into a quiet space to help him calm down, being able to tell when he was overstimulated just by a simple look on his face.

When he told you the truth and you didn’t yell at him. You didn’t call him a liar, or express betrayal through verbal daggers. You didn’t question the authenticity of his blindness with the revelation of his heightened senses. You didn’t walk out on him. You stayed. 

He should’ve told you that night. 

And even though he convinced himself it was safer for you if he kept his heart to himself, deep down he knew he was a coward. 

He was scared to lose you. He was afraid that he would push you too far, ask for too much patience, or break one too many promises that he wouldn’t be able to rectify with an apology and good intentions. He was terrified that he would lose you like he’d lost Elektra. He wasn’t sure what was worse; driving you to the point of resentment because of something inside himself he couldn’t tame, or that very thing tearing you away from him for good.

But neither of those things were as bad as having to endure you being happy with someone else.

Foggy had warned him from the beginning. He told Matt from the moment he met you that if he didn’t make a move, someone else was going to. Karen had cautioned him that you wouldn’t wait around forever. They were both exhausted with the drawn out pining between the two of you, secretly scheming to get one of you to cave and confess, until Matt had snuffed out that ember of hope entirely.

Karen had set you up with a coworker of hers with the intention of making Matt finally pull his head out of his ass, but when you had asked for his advice about the date, he’d told you to go.

What a fucking idiot he had been. A selfish part of him didn’t think you were going to actually enjoy yourself. He certainly didn’t think you would entertain a second date, or a third. Matt knew how you felt about him. He wasn’t stupid, and you weren’t subtle. Maybe he thought because you felt the exact same way about him, you wouldn’t actually move on.

Matt wasn’t bothered by the idea of you going on a date, but he was absolutely distraught over the reality of you being in a relationship with someone else. He was devastated by the fact that you had a boyfriend that wasn’t him. That someone else was holding your hand, making you laugh, kissing you. It made him nauseous to think of what else another man was doing to you.

He didn’t think it would last. He kept telling himself that any day now, the nightmare would be over. You would tell him that it was over, and he’d have you all to himself again.

But it had been two months, and Matt was getting nervous. What if you never broke up? What if you loved him? Did you love him more than you loved Matt? Would you marry him?

Fuck, he didn’t think he could handle that. That guy didn’t love you. Not like he did. No one could ever love you like him. No one could ever protect you as well as he could. No one was as right for you as he was. You were supposed to be with him. You were meant to be with him.

Matt gripped his cane so hard his knuckles turned white as your boyfriend placed his hand on your lower back and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. He hated that you reacted at all to his touch. But a tiny flicker of hope ignited in his heart knowing that you didn’t react to your boyfriend’s touch like you did to his. He didn’t make you shiver. He didn’t make your heart race. He didn’t make heat spread across the tops of your cheeks.

Maybe he still had a chance.

The second your boyfriend excused himself to the bathroom, Matt was tossing his cane onto the nearest table and practically running towards you, gripping onto your wrist to drag you down the hall to an empty room that he barricaded the two of you in.

“Jesus Christ, Matt! What the hell? You nearly-”

“I lied.”

“What? What are you talking about? You haven’t spoken to me all night-”

“I didn’t want you to go on the date. I don’t want to just be your friend.”

Matt’s own heart rate began to accelerate hearing the way yours started to quickly pound in your chest like thunderous warnings in a stormy sky.

“Matt-”

“I love you.”

As a shaky breath escaped your mouth, Matt tore his glasses away from his face and clutched them tightly in his hand. You always told him you felt like he hid behind them, and he wanted you to be able to see the truth on his face. Taking a step back from him and placing your hand over your forehead, you closed your eyes for a moment as your hands began to tremble.

“Why are you doing this right now?”

“Because I lied to you, and I need you to know the truth.”

“Matthew-”

“Just…listen. Please.”

Matt took several steps forward until he was standing in front of you, swallowing thickly as his hazel eyes blankly stared in your direction, searching his brain for the correct formula of words that would fix his selfish mistake and make you his.

“Okay, here it is. Your choice? It’s simple. Him, or me. And I’m sure he’s really great, but sweetheart…I love you. In a…really…really…big…pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your window way, love you. So pick me. Choose me. Love me. Please…just…tell me I’m not too late.”

Matt tuned out every sound except for the roar of your heart thrashing in his ears, but it paled in volume compared to the silence that rang even louder. He detected a light layer of sweat forming along your hairline, and your nails were dug so deeply into your hands, he could almost feel the blood pushing against the taut, clammy skin of your palm. You exhaled through your nose in a jagged and swift pattern, and there was heat burning in your face, but Matt couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was from right now.

“S-Say something.”

“You’re fucking unbelieveable.”

Matt’s tongue darted out quickly to wet his lips as he shifted his weight onto his other foot, placing his hands on his waist while he cleared his throat and tilted his head in your direction.

“Say…something else.”

Throwing your hands up in defeat, you laughed humorlessly as you turned away from him.

“Six months, Matthew. I waited six months for you-”

“I know-”

“And God, I practically did everything but come right out and say I was in love with you-”

“I know, sweetheart-”

“And after everything, all those times you made me believe there was something more, like I wasn’t crazy and reading too much into things. You know, when you finally told me the truth I thought…I thought this is it. I thought that was the last thing holding you back from me but then-you told me to go out with him-”

“I was scared.”

Matt’s confession halted your furious pacing, and he suddenly felt nervous under the intensity of your unwavering gaze. Dipping his head between his shoulders, he let out a deep sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“People have gotten hurt…because of me. Because of who I really am. I lost-Elektra died in my arms. Twice. I thought…I thought I was protecting you. I thought not being with me…was what was best for you. But…I can’t do it. I thought I could, but I was wrong. I can’t…you can’t be with him. You don’t belong with him, sweetheart. You belong with me.”

“You are the most infuriating man I have ever met in my life.”

The anger had dissipated from your voice, but your heart’s rhythm never faltered, and a melancholic smile glossed over Matt’s lips.

“I know. You still love me?”

An exaggerated sigh flew past your lips as you settled your hands on your hips, shaking your head slowly while staring up at him.

“Well someone has to.”

Matt’s lips parted slightly, and his face morphed into an expression of anticipation feeling the edge of your mouth quirk upwards slowly. He took a cautious step forward, reaching out a hand for yours as an excited grin threatened to take over his entire mouth.

“So…it…it’s me?”

“You know for an Ivy League graduate, you’re not very bright. It’s always been you, Matty.”

The smile that stretched open Matt’s mouth would’ve made you think he had just won a contest, and he didn’t hesitate to rush forward to grab your face in his hands, pulling you in for a long overdue kiss that had you both sighing in content against each other's lips. 

“Shit.”

“What?”

“I…I have to tell him.”

Matt’s lips pulled into a mischievous smirk as he wrapped his arm tightly around your waist, pulling you closer into his chest as he nudged his nose against yours.

“Can I tell him?”

“Matthew!”

“What?”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“I’d let him down gently.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

Matt snickered as he lifted his brows slightly in agreement, leaning in to seek out your lips for another greedy kiss.

“No I wouldn’t.”

[rookthorne]

THERE IS A FUCKING SEQUEL

But Steve...Steven Grant Rogers was a shitstigator. You, and your body, knew that well. Bucky knew it well, too. Which is why you had no idea how he kept getting goaded into playing these sexual games. Then again, you let yourself get caught up in it. Safe to say you were feeding the monster and he was feeding you right back.

IS THIS WHERE THE TERM CAME FROM YOU MENACE?! 🤣

“I just wanted to see my best girl,” he said innocently enough. 

liar

You found time to bake for them and Steve, the little shit, turned it into part of his game. “Delicious. Almost as sweet as her pussy. You know, she screams louder with me. Remember last time? I thought her lungs would give out.” You made Bucky feed you a brownie after he nearly destroyed you.

"Why not?" he asked. You didn't have to see his face to know he was pouting. And he was likely staring at you with that kicked puppy expression. You thought you were strong, but those eyes always got you. It wasn’t fair that he used them against you. So you had to keep looking forward.

*bangs the table*

turn a-round, turn a-round, turn a-round

"And the only job you need to worry about is keeping your voice down while I stretch that tight, little hole of yours. Darling, please. I’ll be good,” he swore as he helped you up.

jfc jfc JFC

You raised an eyebrow, not sure if you should believe him. The idea was tempting. “I HAVE to finish.”

“I’ll make sure you finish...your report, too,” he said, his tongue immediately slipping past your lips when you opened your mouth.

YOU CHEEKY SHIT

"...It feels better than Bucky. It feels so good. I need more," you moaned.

"You hear that, punk? Told you I have the better cock."

STEVEN GRANT ROGERS

YOU FUCKING SHIT

"Something wrong, Steve? I thought you liked playing games. You sure as hell don't mind dishing it out. But you can't take it...can you? Oh, she was dripping. Thought she was gonna leave a puddle right here."

“Never swore in Romanian for me,” Steve grumbled, fucking into you like he had something to prove.

“Must not be doing it right, Stevie,” Bucky smirked. “Or do I need to teach you how to fuck a dame again? You can take notes in your sketch pad.”

fucking- where do I go to sign up for this?

I am in fucking love, I love Steve being a brat and Bucky was FINALLY able to dish it, oh my god. 😍

Continuing Orders

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader x Steve Rogers Summary: Steve still runs his mouth, but Bucky dishes some back. Word Count: Roughly 3,042 Warnings: Explicit sexual content, cockwarming, spitroasting, possessive behavior. It’s porn. 18+ Please!!! This is not beta-read, so any and all mistakes are my own

Sequel to Following Orders. Steve is still a troll. Bucky throws some shade back his way. Reader gets wrecked in the process. Enjoy!

You yawned a bit as you typed out your report. It was a bit unnecessary to use one of the conference rooms for that, but you were avoiding your super soldiers. You loved them so much. You really did. But you had to get your work done without any distractions.

Keep reading

[reidsaurora]

"If Loving You Is Wrong" ~ A. Hotchner

Summary: When Y/N has a one night stand with her best friend's boss, she realized just how wrong things are. Lucky for her, the man she slept with doesn't want to be right.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 943

Content Warning: sexual themes throughout (no actual smut though), one (1) explicit swear word, light mention of going to a bar, lmk if I missed anything!

Genre: Smut? Fluff? Aftercare? some weird mix of those three, i honestly don't even know 😭🤣

Extra Notes: N/A on this one

Based On the Prompt: Character accidentally had a one night stand with a reporter… pillow talk causes some problems.

Originally Written: 06/23/2022

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

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Hands tangled up in dark black hair, skin against skin as their senses went into overload, tired moans escaping both of their lips as Aaron kissed his way up her thigh for the umpteenth time that night.

Y/N blinked herself awake as flashbacks played in her head. She rolled over to face the man who kissed every crevice of her body the night prior. She admired the way his tousled hair looked in the light rays of the six o'clock sun.

"Hey," he smiled lightly, like this was something he did often. "How'd you sleep?"

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to hold back the guilt she felt. "Fine. Why?"

"Just asking," he chuckled, his hand moving to her exposed shoulder.

She nearly shivered as his fingertips glided across her skin. "No," she stopped herself. She wanted to tell him to leave, to find some way to convey how wrong this was. Instead? She came back with, "Don't act so innocent when we both know where your mouth was last night."

He chuckled, a deep chuckle she recalled thinking she'd like to get used to. "You're right," he chuckled again, rolling over to hover above Y/N. "I can't help you made me feel like a kid again."

Y/N sighed, trying to think of the right words to say. She turned away, only for his thumb to tilt her head so he could look at her. He glanced over every feature on her face: from her rose-stained lips, to her furrowed brows, to those eyelashes that were as soft as fresh linen.

He kissed her lips for the millionth time, tasting the remnants of her lipstick from the night before. He swore he could feel her eyelashes brush against his cheeks as they kissed again. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"This, Aaron," she finally stated.

"What's so wrong about it?" he inquired, kissing her once more. "We're two consenting adults."

"You don't see any problem with having a one night stand with your colleague's best friend?" she asked point blankly, guilt coming across her again.

"Not when her best friend is as beautiful as you."

Y/N thought about Emily, about how she'd told Emily that she needed some fresh air. About how she just left her best friend, sitting there at the bar, while her back was arched against the headboard of a hotel bed. About how her stomach churned with the thought of her best friend finding out that she'd slept with her boss.

"This is wrong, Aaron. You know that," she told him, almost like an instruction. Almost like a demand for him to be mad at her.

"Well, if loving you is wrong," he paused, bending down to graze his lips against hers again. Fuck, did she love the sound their lips made every time he did that. "Then I don't want to be right."

She sat up, forcing him to move back to his original position. She looked him dead in the eyes, curious as to how he'd take her next demand. "Ask me a question."

"What?" Aaron's eyebrows wrinkled in perplexity.

"Ask me a question. Anything."

He sat up, leaning back against the headboard. "Pfff," he let out as he tried to find a question. "Uh, what's your favorite color?"

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Not that kind of question. Something deep," she explained her game.

"Seriously though, what's your favorite color?" he asked, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Yellow. What's yours?"

"Red," he answered. One of his eyebrows raised in sarcasm as he figured out which direction this conversation was going.

"Exactly! Yellow and red look awful together," she rebutted.

He wrapped her arms around his midsection before lifting her chin. "That's a personal preference," he mumbled, peppering kisses along her jawline.

"Aaron." She tried to squirm away, but the more she wriggled, the tighter his grip around her waist became. "OK, what's your favorite song?"

He rolled his eyes, but obliged. "While My Guitar Gently Weeps by The Beatles."

"See, I've never even heard a song by The Beatles," she admitted.

"Well, I can change that," he chuckled, kissing her forehead.

Suddenly, she stopped as the most telling question she could think of popped into her mind. "What's your biggest priority?"

Without any hesitation, Aaron answered, "My son."

Y/N looked down, the guilt from earlier rising up through her stomach once again. "Aaron," she hesitated, "That's why this is wrong. You have a son—a son that you love, a son that, if you're a good father, you put first and foremost. I-" she stopped abruptly, the guilt almost completely taking over her stomach, "I've always been focused on work. I don't have kids. I've never wanted kids. This isn't right, Aaron. Your son deserves a good woman in his life. Not me."

Aaron rolled over again, hovering above Y/N once more. "Well, as I said before," he bent down, their lips stroking together once again.

She hated him, how he made just one simple kiss change her mind. She hated that she agreed with the end of his statement, before he'd ever even finished it. Most of all, she hated that she loved him, even though it was wrong in every meaning of the word.

She locked eyes with him, longing for their lips to connect again, though they'd just parted. One of his hands moved to her neck, his thumb delicately rubbing the skin where he'd bruised it the night before. "If loving you is wrong," he paused again, kissing the sweet spot on her neck, just hard enough for a moan to escape those pretty, little lips of hers, "Then I don't want to be right."

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I'm so excited to finally share my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Forbidden Love Writing Challenge!

also yeah, i'm with you guys. i didn't think it was gonna turn out to be this smutty either but here we are. i also didn't expect it to be with Hotch either but yk

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed! I'm really proud of the way it turned out! ❤️

also imma apologize for the weird formatting again, tumblr is still refusing to fix this issue lol

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[cevans-is-classic]

Spring Flowers

The third installment of the flowers series I didn't mean to start 🤣

18+ only, please. Language, mentions of anxiety, and Chris being the sweetest.

My Masterlist and Chris list

Autumn Flowers - Winter Flowers - Summer Flowers - Autumn Vows

The chair squeaked when you propped your feet up on the patio table, head tipping back, a soft breeze making your hair brush off your forehead. Chris lifted a brow when you lifted your bottle of water. “No help at all?” He moved further down the row, digging the trowel into the dirt. 

You hummed, “It’s my day off.” 

Chris throws a hand full of soil at you, making you sputter with indignations nearly toppling your chair backwards to wipe the dirt off, “How dare you!.” 

He was laughing hard enough to shake his body, his thighs burning where he leans back, hand coming up to his chest. You huffed, grumbling under your breath about germs and new pairs of leggings, making Chris laughed even harder. 

“Oh ha ha, Evans, you’re hilarious.” You’d sat back down, still wiping your hands down your chest, over your shoulder, checking that your hair was free of the mess. 

He grinned with his teeth. “You’re the one who loves me.” 

The water bottle hit his shoulder before he realized you’d throw it at him, the cap off letting water spill over his arms and chest, “Oh come on!” 

He chased you around the yard, grabbing at you when he got close enough and evading your elbows as you wiggled free to run towards the sliding door. Oh no, you weren’t getting away that easily. He jumped over the pots of flowers, leaping over the chair you’d pulled behind you and caught you around the waist. 

You yelped when he lifted you into the air, spinning you around and around until you were shoving at his shoulders and laughing his name out. Chris kept going, lifting you higher, your legs coming up to wrap around his middle, your head shaking with laughing shouts, “Okay! Okay, you win!”

Your hands were around his neck when he lowered you back down to your feet, his arms still wrapped around your waist. He grinned into the kiss you pressed onto his lips, your own smile causing your teeth to clash together. It was a messy, horrible kiss; he loved it. 

“Finish your garden.” You pulled back, “I’m going to start lunch - oh wait, shit no I have to go to the store.” 

Chris frowned. “I thought you were going to make the chicken you bought the other day?” He brushed his lips over your forehead, you hummed; arms tightening around his neck to pull him closer. 

He ducked his head to kiss you again, savoring the warmth between you two, the easiness that loosened his shoulders and had him melting into your arms. When you patted his shoulder, stepping back with a rueful smile, he ducked his head onto your collar, “I started craving something with broccoli. It’ll be new to try to make.” 

“You know, when we first met you swore you never cooked.” 

Another quick peck before you headed towards the house again. “I want me man well fed, Lad?” He shook his head at you.

-

He had the rows he wanted to get done today finished. He’d showered, changed clothes and taken Dodger for a walk by the time you’d returned from the store. The door closing with a slam that had you shouting an apology. Chris finished typing up the email he’d started, checking it over before he closed the laptop and looked up as you came in. 

You held a bouquet in your hands. 

“Sweetheart.” It was beautiful, bright, the pinks and blues accented by yellow daises and green poms he rubbed his thumb over. 

You lifted it up to let him breathe in the floral scent. “I know I got one last week, but I saw the daisies in the window of Carol Ann’s and had to bring them home. I figured they’d make do until your own grow big and strong.” 

Chris took the vase from you, placing a kiss on your hairline. “I love them.” He sat them down the table from the original ones. The color schemes played well together, one blue and pink and the other soft yellow and white. He wondered if he should move them to the living room, sit them on the coffee table for other to see when they came over. 

“Oh! I got a call from my publisher.” Your voice sounded further away and Chris followed it toward the hallway where you’d left the groceries. Dodger was nosing into a bag. You scratched his head, bending down to kiss between his ears, grabbing two of the bag, and motioning for Chris to help with the others.

“About what? Don’t you have another few months before your bit is due?” The frozen food was put away first, then the ones that went in the fridge and Chris helped you shift the contents of the cabinet around to check for outdated items. 

“Its is, but he wanted to talk about me doing an interview for Writer’s digest.” He stopped with a box of macaroni in his hand, turning to watch you clean off a bushel of broccoli. 

“Writer’s Digest! Baby, that’s amazing!” You were blushing, ducking your head down as you turned the water off. He knew you were trying to play it down. If you’d wanted it to be a big deal, you would have told him over a mini celebration. Chris knew the hold of your shoulders though, knew you were nervous about the news. 

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, places a kiss on your shoulder and holding you against his chest, “Baby,” You nodded to let him know you were listening, “I’m proud of you.” 

A squeak had him shaking his head at you. You’d covered your face with your hands, turning around to hide your face in his chest. Chris chuckled, lifting a hand to cradle the back of your head and sway the two of you back and forth. 

He was proud of you — knew you’d worked hard at getting to where you are now with your journalism and when you’d published your first book last year, he’d been the first one to buy a copy. 

“I could have given you one.” You’d said when he asked you to sign it. 

He’d wiggled the book until you grabbed it, flipping the cover open and signing the dedications page. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I had you just giving me stuff?” 

A sarcastic tone slipped into your words, “Yourself.” 

You had a point then. Even if it’s small, you gave Chris something. You’d bring home little trinkets, patriots merch you knew he didn’t have, or a book you thought he’d like. If it wasn’t flowers, then it was chocolate he wouldn’t buy himself or a gift for Dodger that had him playing catch with his best buddy for hours. When Chris was away or you were using your office space to write, you brought him origami hearts, boxes, cranes, and once an entire bouquet that gave you more paper cuts than you've ever had before (your words.) 

God, how did he get this lucky?

He loved you so much. 

His mind started firing off an idea that blossomed his love for you in his chest. 

“Come on, let’s get lunch started and then we can watch Netflix.” You pushed him back with renewed vigor and turned back to the food. 

-

They made the interview for the end of April and the closer it got the more you panicked. Chris had seen you at your worst, sick, stressed and feeling like the sky was weighing on your shoulder, but seeing you pacing up the hallways with your headphones in at odd hours of the night — it kept his own nerves in check. He had to make sure you were okay. He had to be the one to take the reins and hold your hand when you needed it. 

He knew what would help when the day came and he’d been preparing for the last two weeks. On the day you’d went for a jog with Dodger, kissing Chris goodbye that morning and taking off with a nervous smile. 

His mom came over as soon as you left, her car packed tight and a bounce in her step. “Lets do this.” She called out. 

Heres to hoping it does what he hopes it will. 

He crossed his fingers that you kept your jog routine the same. The run is interspersed with walks that cleared your mind. Chris knew you’d take Dodger to your favorite trail to walk along the lake. The breeze would keep you calm and grounded even with nerves piercing your stomach. He counted on you following the path from start to finish, then taking your time before coming home to let Dodger rest and grab a protein shake. 

By the time you’d texted asking him if he wanted anything before you headed home, Chris felt thankful that his Mom came over to help. Between the two of them, he had the living room just right and set out your favorite snack to keep you relaxed during the interview. 

He hugged his Mom goodbye when he knew you were ten minutes out. 

“I’m happy you found them.” His mom kissed his cheek, patting his shoulder as she got into her car and buckled up. He jogged back to the house when she drove away and took his place at the kitchen island, tea steaming in your favorite mug and his phone out — he had to play it cool.

Time to put all those acting skills to use. 

The door opened and closed, your called out for him and Dodger trotted into the kitchen — and Chris felt his stomach coil tight and he knew he was going to give everything away if you walked into the kitchen.

This was a bad idea. Chris couldn’t keep a surprise from you no matter how hard he tried. 

“Hey do you remember where I put my laptop? It’s not in the-” You stopped talking and Chris’s shoulders stiffened. Here goes nothing. 

When he walked into the living room, you were standing in the middle of the room, your hands covering your mouth and tears steaming down your face. Chris stood behind you watched you walk towards the flowers he had on every available surface. Purple orchids and snap dragons sat in front of the television, yellow tulips and pink pansies sat on both sides of the couch. You touched the petal of white and pink Lily of the Valley that lined the back wall. When you moved back to the couch, you reached out to grip your red plaid blanket he’d draped over the back of the couch. He heard the choked sob you let out when he you saw he’d replaced the regular throw pillows with your Halloween ones. 

He knew you found comfort in soft items, that you had to have something in your hands when you were nervous and he made sure that a few fidget toys were close at hand. You laughed a shaky laugh at the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the coffee table and your Iron Man tumbler filled with your juice. 

He cleared his throat when you sat down on the couch. 

You were crying, a smile brightening your face. You opened your arm towards him and Chris crossed the length of the room, dropping to his knee to fall into the circle of your arms. 

“Oh, Sweet boy.” You nuzzled your face in his neck. “Thank you. No, that doesn’t convey how much this means to me. Nothing could express how much I adore this and you.” 

He didn’t even need to explain what it was for. You knew he’d made this up to help ease you for the interview, to keep you calm when you’d been nothing but nerves all month. Chris moved to sit on the couch and pull you onto his lap. 

“You do so much for me.” He kissed your nose, “This is the least I can do.” 

You tucked his hair behind his ear, flattened the cowlick at the crown of his head and kissed the space between his brows, “Fucking sap.” 

Chris laughed.

Someone knocked at the door and you stiffened, “Come on,” He lifted you up, easing you down until your feet touched the rug, “Let's show off how good of a writer you are and how good of a trophy boyfriend I am.” 

“The best.” You grabbed his hand and walked to the door.

@xoxoloverb @bolontiku @stephv213

I should be asleep for my interview tomorrow but nope I'm writing this

[bookersebastien]

hmmm hello?? for the cliché prompts: 44 for joe x nicky if it speaks to you 😊💜

brielle ty so much for the prompt!! this was so fun to write! i did change the prompt slightly because i ran with the idea before double checking the prompt. hope you like it! also this got lost in my drafts for a bit so yes i know this was from soo long ago 🤣

44. i’m your new neighbor and i got locked out, help! 

Yusuf could think of nothing else other than his painting. The soft brushstrokes, the feeling of the bristles gliding across the canvas as the colors blended together at the tip of his fingers, the idea in his mind slowly taking the shape of something complete, something real, something magnificent.

Or it would as soon as he got up these fucking stairs.

Three days he'd been holed up in his apartment working on a new project, sudden inspiration chaining him to the easel and he was all too willing to let it hold him captive, the paintbrush cuffs around his wrists. He was utterly and completely consumed by it, to such a degree that it was all he dreamed about during the few hours his eyes managed to slip shut despite his best efforts, and all the coffee in his apartment.

Then right as he could practically see the finished product before him, it was missing something, a very specific shade of green so perfect in Yusuf's mind he spent two hours attempting to bring it to life. Paint tubes littered the floor around him, half empty and some dripping onto the ground in what he took to be a mocking manner as he failed each time to make the color he could see so clearly in his mind.

Three art stores later and he could only pray that this time he could create the green he so desperately sought. His fingers were itching to get ahold of his brush, his feet bouncing quickly up the last few steps, once again cursing his decision to live on the third floor of a building with no elevator. But the view of the nearby park could not be beat.

He was in such a hurried daze coming up the stairs that he ignored the noise across the hall from him, juggling armfuls of supplies because even if he was just there for paint he could not let the sale on canvases go unnoticed, nor the new clay glazes they got in.

His breathing was nearly ragged, his hands patting down his pockets, only finding his wallet and not the telltale jingle of his keys. His movements became so desperate he let his stuff come crashing down to the floor, his knees coming down right after, his hands searching inside the bags but the keys were still nowhere to be found.

Now the noise got louder across the hall, he could hear some people talking before he caught sight of someone walking towards him from the corner of his eye. He let his head hang in his hands, mumbling to himself that he swore this wouldn’t happen again after the stairs incident of 2015. 

The stranger approached him and spoke with such sincerity that Yusuf froze in place.

"Do you need some help?" His voice was calm and unbearably soft as he spoke, an Italian accent heavy on his tongue. Yusuf let himself laugh a bit at himself, because even if he wanted to say no, anyone could see that he needed it. After a moment he let himself glance up at the stranger who was looking down at him with concern. He just stared for a second before remembering you were typically supposed to answer when someone asks you a question.

His face was shadowed as he leaned down over Yusuf, but he could still admire the strong shape of his jaw that sloped down to impossibly broad shoulders.

"I uh-seemed to have forgotten my keys." He could barely manage the words, his breath stolen by the stairs and captured by the man before him. A man he realized he'd never seen before. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

He took a look at Yusuf's door before answering, "I'm your new neighbor it seems. I'm Nicky." He sticks his hand out and Yusuf takes it, suddenly remembering he's sitting on the floor as he reaches up.

"Yusuf. Oh sorry--" he pulls back quickly once he sees his hands are still coated in paint, his mad dash out the door didn't include washing his hands first, "--I'm in the middle of a project."

"You are an artist then I assume? Or is there some other use for all the supplies?" Nicky asks eyeing the, quite frankly, ridiculous amount of supplies scattered on the floor around him. Yusuf stood up, suddenly feeling mildly embarrassed as he tried to put everything back in the bags with as much dignity as a man in his position could muster.

"I am, or I guess was trying to finish a new piece I started, hence-"

"Forgetting your keys?" Nicky laughed and Yusuf's heart skipped at the sound. "I can't say I've done the same for art supplies, but I understand feeling when I'm cooking. Can I ask what it is?"

"I don’t usually like to discuss my pieces until I'm done," Yusuf replied before he even realized what he was saying. It’s not like it wasn’t true but the last thing he wanted was to come off as rude to his beautiful new neighbor. He smiled awkwardly as he finished grabbing his things; never one to be nervous he found himself double checking the paint lids with painful slowness before setting each one back in the bags and leaning them carefully against the wall. It felt like it took him hours while Nicky watched.

"It's fine. But I would like to see it when it's done if that's alright."

Yusuf just nodded. He realized his desperation to get back into his apartment had paled now, pushed into the back of his mind as he spoke to Nicky, feeling something stir within him. There was an earnest calm about him, words careful and eyes searching, posture tall though his frame shortened by the breadth of his shoulders.

"Would you like some coffee while you wait for a locksmith?" Nicky offered and Yusuf was in no position to refuse, not like he would anyway but that soft Italian voice pulled at his chest in a way he didn't think he could refuse if he wanted.

"Yes, that would be nice. Thank you...," he whispered, words trailing off when Nicky bent down to help him with his bags, his face catching the sunlight from the window as he stood. His cheekbones complimented his strong jaw, his nose so perfectly highlighted by the light it's as if he was looking at a painting. But it was his eyes that Yusuf could not look away from. A soft green, the color of the shallow waters of the Mediterranean, of sea glass, of the moss that covers the forest floors.

The perfect shade of green.

[brummiereader]

@mischievouslittlecreature urgh Mosley, been waiting for him to make his dreaded appearance 😬.

Incredible chapter Lily! I'm so relieved to see Lucy finally put her foot down when it comes to Lizzie. It needed to be said, but I can't see things lasting very long when it comes to her yo-yo behaviour 😤.

“Have Isiah keep an eye on him. They’re friends, and he’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid.” 👀, this feels like Michael all over again in The Shadow Of The Abattoir when Lucy's gut was telling her something was off. I know this is only a passing comment, but I've got a feeling this will pop up again in later parts.

I’m part of you forever, now, his and Luca’s voices, mingled into one, whispered inside her head where they now lived. This Is so haunting, because when you really think about it, Luca got it kinda easy. He's dead, but Lucy has to live on with the pain and reminder of what he did. And what's even worse is, she has to physically endure every day the damage his torture did to her body. It must feel like she's being cut over and over again. It's horrible 😭. I'm glad Tommy was there to relieve some of that pain and tension for her. If may forget to look after herself, but Tommy certainly won't ❤️.

As much as I hate the man, your description of him when Lucy is sat watching him and when he introduces himself after, was just perfect 👌🏼. I could literally see him in front of me... unfortunately 😂.

Lucy swore that for a second their eyes met, before she hastily looked away from him and back to Tommy. This gave me shivers 👀. I swear my brain conjured up this exact moment as I read it, and it's was so fucking creepy.

“How did I do?” he asked, once he found her standing at the usual spot where she always waited for him. I couldn't not mention this little line, it was so cute how he quickly sought her out to ask how he did 🥰. Arghhh, I wana squish his cheeks 😂.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?” She felt Tommy tense beside her at Mosley’s words. Urghh he's gross. I nearly forgot that Tommy and Lucy are keeping their relationship secret, and that's why Tommy didn't react to this. But part of me now thinks that Mosley is onto them already and he did this on purpose. I wouldn't put it past him 😬.

Does that mean I get to play with him now?- ”Tommy chuckled, raising the lighter to his own cigarette before closing it with a click. “Easy, girl. I gave him until Monday to get us the full amount.” 🤣, I loved this whole exchange! I adore their playful flirty exchanges and how they're always under the guise of murdering or "dealing" with some one 🤭.

Loved the office quickie 🔥👌🏼. Possessed Tommy telling her to be silent when he can barely hold it together is everything!

A huge round of applause for Lucy 👏🏼! Lizzie deserved those hard truths, and she deserved to finally hear how incredibly selfish SHE has been. Lucy and Tommy have been nothing but accomodating towards her, and she's thrown tantrum after tantrum, demanding more.

I think the thing that continues to irritate me the most is, how she thinks Tommy and her relationship should he held to the same standards of a loving marriage when there's is a bloody contract 😬! She has all these demands that a wife should rightfully have, but she forgets that Tommy is only her husband by law. Gahhhh 😤.

You sap up all his love for yourself and leave nothing for the rest of us! You don’t care that him spending time with you means he’s not here with his family! Those children. 👀!! Yep, she's using the children again to place guilt on Lucy. This is such a low blow and she knows it, because if Lucy didn't exist and wasn't a part of Tommy's life, we all know he still wouldn't be giving her the love she thinks she's owed.

Lizzie continued to just stare at her with a look of both extreme sorrow and loathing, and then she picked up Ruby’s suitcase and shouldered past her without another word. Let her go 😌. I think they all need a long break from each other anyway.

Fantastic chapter! I'm so eager to see how things will play out with both Lizzie and Mosley 😬!

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Tommy and Lucy meet a man dangerous enough to frighten them both, and Lizzie reaches a breaking point.

Word Count: 6,543

Warnings: Smut, polyamory, chronic pain, references to violence, past torture, and past sexual assault.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 2: Selfish

“Lizzie is going to be mad about that for a good long while,” Lucy commented, one hand stuffed into her trousers pocket while the other flicked ash from her cigarette down onto the cobblestones. Her eyes swiveled around, taking in the ash, flames, and glowing embers being emitted into the air by the nearby factories. All around them was the bustle of men and women going about their business, children with dirtied faces and knees marked up with scrapes and soot racing through the streets together. She dropped a few shillings into the cup of a young girl who wandered past them. 

The train station that they were headed to wasn’t particularly far, and it was good for the people to see Tommy out amongst them, walking to work and taking the train like any other ordinary working man. So when they could, they made the trek to the train on foot. 

She didn’t mind. It was nice to get out into the familiar smoky air, settled like a black cloud over most of Birmingham. Despite everything, it still felt like it was where she most belonged. In the dirt and flames of hell. 

Though it did mean that they had to keep a professional distance from each other. No hand holding or letting their sides brush and bump. They couldn’t risk looking suspiciously close. Not even in Tommy’s own kingdom of Small Heath.

“Yeah,” Tommy sighed heavily. “But what else is fucking new?”

She cast him a regretful look. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why? You didn’t even do anything.”

“It always feels like I’m the root cause of most of her anger towards you.”

“No; you’re not.” She felt him casting her a worried look. “It’s not your fault.”

She didn’t tell him that she didn’t believe that. It would only upset him. And he didn’t need to be worrying about her feelings on top of everything else already on his plate.  

“She’s mad because you tell me things that you don’t tell her.”

“Which isn’t fucking new. That’s always how things have been. If she’s only realizing that now…”

“I think she’s more upset about it being thrown in her face than anything else.”

He shook his head, teeth grinding together. “I’m going to cuff Finn the next time I see him. Jesus Christ.”

“Arthur’s right about him needing educating. The kid can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life.” As she spoke, she rolled her right shoulder back and forth, trying to ease the twinge that had settled in it. Tommy huffed. 

“Yeah. I’ll put him in charge of running the football betting at the shop. Give him something productive to do.”

“Have Isiah keep an eye on him. They’re friends, and he’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid.”

Tommy nodded. They caught the train just before it left the station, slipping into an empty compartment and closing the door, drawing down the blind that covered the window on the door, hiding them from any curious eyes that may have tried to peek in from the narrow hallway.

“May called earlier. She said that she was at a party that a couple other MPs were attending recently. One of them was asking about you,” Lucy settled into her seat, the train whistling shrilly before starting to move, steadily picking up speed as it pulled out from the station. 

“Oh?”

“Oswald Mosley. He’s the MP for Smethwick. Also the Minister of the Duchy of Lancaster,” she fiddled with her rings, twisting them anxiously around her fingers. “May had…a lot of bad things to say about him.” Another throb of pain rocketed from the bottom of her shoulder blades up to the base of her neck, and she had to fight back a flinch. Fucking Luca. Dead and long gone, and yet still haunting her through the aches and pains that the torture he had put through had left. 

Just like Matthew, her former fiancé and the man who instigated the gang rape that left her nearly dead and fleeing to Small Heath to escape marrying him. He too lingered with her still–despite his deceased status–through the scars he and his friends had left all over her body.

I’m part of you forever, now, his and Luca’s voices, mingled into one, whispered inside her head where they now lived. 

“Lucy?” Tommy’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, his hand lightly touching her arm. She jumped a little, jerking back to life, eyes wide when they met his. “You alright?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry. Just thinking. What did you say?”

His eyes narrowed a fraction, and she was pretty sure that he sensed the slight waver in her voice that she attempted to cover up. But he must have decided not to comment on it if he did. 

“What does Mosley want with me?” He instead repeated patiently. 

“He didn’t exactly say. But May said that he was asking an awful lot about your moral standings on things. She thought that he might’ve been trying to feel out if you would be amiable to joining the new party he’s rumored to be building.”

“The fascists, you mean?”

“Yeah.” They had been sprouting up everywhere it seemed, lately. Germany. Italy. Even in England. It was spooky. “I could do some more research into him, if you think that it would be worth it.”

Tommy considered for a moment, blue eyes glancing out the window to observe the countryside they were whizzing by. “Yes, you do that. He’s gathering information about me, it would only be fair to return the favor.”

She nodded, a hand unconsciously going up to grasp at her still aching shoulder, trying to rub away some of the pain. But she never could seem to get the right angle…

“Are your shoulders bothering you?”

She looked up to find Tommy still watching her, observant eyes zoned in on where her fingers were subtly kneading. With a sigh, she dropped her hand, rolling the aching bone and muscle back and forth with a wince. There was no use trying to lie to him. 

“A little.” 

His head cocked, pushing up with his hands off the seat he was slumped in across from her to instead settle in the space next to her. “Here.”

“Tommy…!” she immediately started to protest, eyes going panickedly to the blinds covering the window of the door leading into their compartment. 

“Don’t worry. No one will see with the blinds closed. And we’re just passing country right now,” he nodded towards the window, which sure enough was only displaying green fields and farmland. “Let me help. If you don’t do anything for them, they’ll be killing you by this evening.”

Spoken from true experience. He’d seen her when the pain got really bad, leaving her unable to sleep or do anything other than cry and writhe, as if trying to get away from the pains wracking through nearly her entire upper back. 

Slumping in defeat, she nodded, turning to angle herself with her back facing him. His large hands found her shoulders, so big they nearly swallowed the entire expanse of each one in his palms–or maybe she was just that tiny. A small sigh of relief left her lips when he began rubbing gentle but firm circles into her skin, just like how the doctor had instructed him to when explaining ways to help reduce her pain. Slowly, he started to urge the tensed up muscles to relax enough to give her some relief. 

“Did you not do your stretches yesterday?” he asked. Lucy shook her head. 

“Forgot.”

She was supposed to do them everyday, to avoid things like this happening so frequently. But in all the chaos yesterday, they’d completely slipped her mind. And sleeping on the hard earth with nothing but Tommy to use as a pillow probably hadn’t helped things.  

“Hm. Sorry; I should’ve reminded you.”

“Not your fault.”

He pressed his fingers a little harder into her skin. “How’s that feeling?”

“Better.”

He hummed, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Just try to relax.”

“Pot meet kettle.”

“You want me to stop?”

“...No.”

He chuckled, the first real laugh she’d heard from him since before yesterday, and rested his cheek against her hair while his hands continued to work. Lucy allowed herself to melt a little under his touch, for a moment not worrying about them getting caught together, or about Lizzie, or Michael, or the company. She was able to just rest. Even if only for a moment. All the while Tommy gently rubbed the pain from her body.

∗ ∗ ∗  

She so did love to watch Tommy speak in the house. 

He stood there, amidst the smoke emitting from cigarettes and pipes, glasses perched on his nose, notes held in his hand, his voice ringing out, deep and rumbling. Pretty, eloquent words. He had them all in the palm of his hand and he knew it, the men seated in the benches around him, and those in the observation area with her all clinging to his every word. And when he was finished, those on his side of the room cheered and rapped their hands approvingly against the wood of their benches, the entire room thundering with the sound. 

Lucy couldn’t help but think that the room looked like a theater. 

Who were they performing for? Themselves? Each other? The people in the observation booths? All of them at once? It was hard to say. 

She spotted him seated to Tommy’s right–her left. In the row below Tommy’s, the third man in from the aisle. His dark hair was slicked back, the mustache that decorated his upper lip meticulously groomed. One side of his lips pulled up at something Tommy said, his eyes gleaming. Lucy felt a shiver go down her spine. Humor may have been what was intended to cross his face, but those eyes of his were dead. No emotion to be found in them at all. They remained focused straight ahead as Tommy spoke, except for one specific, notable moment, when they flickered towards the observational benches where she, along with some secretaries, journalists, and other observers, sat to watch the men speak. Lucy swore that for a second their eyes met, before she hastily looked away from him and back to Tommy. Her skin crawled, the fine, fair hairs on the back of her arms standing up straight. Her very insides seemed to recoil, every instinct within her screaming to get up and run as far away from that man as she could possibly get. 

She kept her eyes glued firmly at Tommy for the reminder of the time spent in the house, despite originally going there specifically to observe Mosley.

She felt that she’d gotten all the information that she needed to about what kind of person he was from just that quick glance alone. 

Soon as they were done, she stood, gathering up her notes, tucking them securely in the crook of her arm and making for the exit where she would meet Tommy out in the hall. 

“How did I do?” he asked, once he found her standing at the usual spot where she always waited for him. Lucy caught herself wishing desperately that she could have pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Splendid as always, love.”

He looked away, lips twitching up slightly, clearing his throat bashfully. “Come on.”

Lucy smiled a little to herself at the reaction, falling into step beside him, heading in the direction of their office.  

“Did you get what you needed?” he asked, as they walked.

“Sort of.”

His brow raised. “Sort of?” he quoted back to her.

“I don’t like looking at him,” she explained in a lowered voice. “He makes my skin crawl.”

“Mm.” Tommy hummed in agreement. 

“Lord Suckerby’s secretary said you’re welcome to come by anytime between now and the end of the day to see him,” she told him just as they were interrupted by a voice calling his name from one of the open doors they passed.

They stopped, turned, and were met face to face with Oswald Mosley, a barbed smile sliding into place across his features as those empty eyes bored into Tommy. Lucy’s skin roiled in response to his posh, clipped voice when he spoke, introducing himself and holding out a hand for Tommy to shake. His sly smile never once ceased, eyes never leaving Tommy’s as he took his hand and shook it firmly. 

“Let me just say, you’ve come to my attention,” the words were spoken in a croon, with the smallest of head tilts. Lucy couldn’t fully decide if the intended effect was supposed to be predatory, or seductive. 

Before Tommy could reply. Mosley’s eyes had snapped, sharp and quick, like a snake striking, to fix on Lucy. She had to fight back the urge to hide behind her lover’s back. The expression on Mosley’s face turned wolfish. 

“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?” She felt Tommy tense beside her at Mosley’s words. “Oswald Mosley,” he extended his hand towards her. Lucy felt ill at the thought of touching him, but forced herself to reach out and take his hand. It was cold as ice and dry as a bone.

“Lucy Winters,” she introduced herself, shaking Mosley’s hand once before letting it go, pushing away the urge to wipe her palm on her trousers. “I’m Mr. Shelby’s assistant.” 

Mosley’s eyes darted between them, one eyebrow quirking upwards, a smirk settling on his lips. “Hm. Lucky you, Mr. Shelby.” 

“If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Mosley, we have to get going.”

“Yes, yes, of course. But if you aren’t too busy, I would love the opportunity to speak with you more. Perhaps over drinks?”

Tommy considered. “You can call my office,” was all he ultimately said, hastily turning on his heel and starting down the hall again. Lucy hurried after him, not wanting to be left alone with Mosley. 

“You’re really going to meet with him?” she asked, once they were far enough away to be out of ear shot. 

“Just to hear what he has to say.” He looked over at her. “Don’t worry, I’m not sympathetic to his cause. But keep your enemies closer, eh?”

“Yeah.” She looked over her shoulder, half expecting Mosley to appear spontaneously behind them. “He scares me a little, Tommy.” Her voice was a rough whisper, half ashamed at the omission. 

“Me too.”

That got her attention, and when she looked at Tommy, she noticed something almost unsteady under the guarded armor he kept carefully in place across his eyes. Fear squeezed at her throat. 

A man who was bad enough to make Tommy so frightened was something she hadn’t even thought existed.

“You head on back to the office,” he said, changing the subject with a small clearing of his throat. “I think I’ll go see Lord Suckerby now.”

“You don’t want me to come with you?” He shook his head. “I think it’ll make a stronger impression if I go see him alone.”

“You think he’ll give you any trouble?”

“Maybe. Depends on how hard he was hit by the crash.”

She frowned. She hadn’t really thought about that. Though she probably should have. “Everyone was hit by the crash.”

“Yeah.”

“If Suckerby can’t pay us…”

“He will. I’m not giving him any other choice.”

She pressed her lips together in a small smile. “I’d like first crack at him, if it comes to it.”

Tommy shot her an amused look. “Oh, is that so?”

“After seeing those photos that he wanted us to get for him, there are a couple of things I’d very much like to do to him.”

During the train ride to London she had flipped through the small package of photographs, letters, and cheques that Isiah had handed off to her while they were in Birmingham. Everything he and Aberama had collected from the man they killed in Chinatown who had been using the contents of that package to blackmail Suckerby. Her stomach had roiled at the contents of some of them, bile rising.

Lord Suckerby was one disgusting man. Maybe after he paid them, an unfortunate accident could befall him. Like falling out a window or getting run over by a bus.  

Based on the thunderous, repulsed look that had crossed Tommy’s features when she showed him the photographs, Lucy thought he may very well be open to the idea. The envelope was now stashed safely in the inner pocket of her suit jacket, snug against her side. It would remain there until Suckerby paid what he owed them for their services.

“Alright,” Tommy said, eyes still dancing with fond, quiet mirth. “He doesn’t corporate, he’s all yours.”

She beamed, only just managing to restrain herself from throwing her arms around his neck, stretching up on toes, and planting a firm kiss to his temple that would have left his fair skin stained with red smudges from her lipstick. “Thank you, Tommy,” she said instead, adding what she hoped came across as a playful, affectionate lilt to her voice. He glanced over at her, one edge of his lips nudging upwards, eyes softening. 

They came to a hallway splitting off into two separate directions. This was where they parted ways. Her, turning left to head to their office, him, heading right, towards where Lord Suckerby’s offices were located. 

“I’ll see you soon?”

He nodded. “This won’t take long.”

“I’ll phone his office when I get in and let them know you’re coming. So they’ll be expecting you.”

“Right.”

“And then you have a few more meetings this afternoon.”

“Mm.” He lowered his voice. “I thought that we’d stay at the apartment for the night, rather than go back to Arrow House.”

“That probably would be a good idea. It’d give Lizzie some time to cool down.”

“Exactly.” 

She nodded, moving to head in the direction leading to their office. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

She walked backwards a few paces, fondly watching his broad back disappear around the corner before turning and making her way the rest of the short walk back to the little corner of Parliament that they presided over. 

∗ ∗ ∗

She had not been back in the office long when Tommy returned, heavy footed steps booming against the floor and swiping his fringe from his eyes. 

“How did it go?” Lucy asked, looking up from her desk.

“By the time I left the room, he was screaming my name,” he thumbed a cigarette from his silver case. Lucy raised an eyebrow.

“Is that a euphemism?”

Tommy snorted, plucking out a second cigarette to hand to her. “He only had twenty thousand to give to us.”

“Really?” That wasn’t even half of the fifty thousand pounds they’d agreed upon. She placed her cigarette between her lips and leaned forward towards the flame of his lighter when he held it up for her. “Does that mean I get to play with him now?”

Tommy chuckled, raising the lighter to his own cigarette before closing it with a click. “Easy, girl. I gave him until Monday to get us the full amount.”  

She pouted a little, leaning back into her chair. “You’re going soft, Shelby.”  

“No,” Tommy’s eyes danced amusedly. He reached out, brushing his thumb down her cheek. It was a risky move, since anyone could walk through the door at any moment, but she didn’t pull her face away from the tender touch. “I just want my fifty thousand pounds.”

“Mm. Whatever you say, love.”

His thumb inched into dangerous territory, ghosting over her bottom lip. She aimed a playful nip at it, and he drew his hand back with a grin. 

“Cheeky mare.”

Lucy smiled at him, batting her eyelashes innocently in an ‘I’m-very-sure-I-don’t-know-what-you-mean’ kind of way. Though remnants of his smile lingered on his face and his eyes remained softened fondly, Tommy’s expression turned serious again.  

“Hey, make that research into Mosley top priority, yeah? I wanna be ready when I next see him.”

“Yes, boss.” She gave him a little two finger salute. The corner of his lips kicked up again.

“Thank you.” 

She watched him head through the double doors into his office, leaving them open behind him, a silent invitation for her to come keep him company if she wanted. Gathering up some of her papers, she rose from her chair to follow him. 

It was, after all, an invitation that she never passed up. 

∗ ∗ ∗  

It was dark by the time they started to pack up to leave for the day. Tommy had one final appointment, but Lucy figured she would get a head start on closing the office up while he spoke with the journalist from the London Times. She eyed Michael Levitt as Adam–Tommy’s other secretary at Westminster–led him into Tommy’s office, noting the nervous way that the journalist  kept fidgeting with his hat while he waited. A moment later, Adam came back out, casting an anxious look over his shoulder to where Levitt had taken a seat in front of Tommy’s desk. 

“Mr. Shelby said I was to go home,” he came over to her desk, keeping his voice lowered. She nodded.

“Then go home. I’ll take care of locking everything up.”

“Right.” 

She watched him gather up his things and head for the door, one ear focused on trying to overhear the mumbled voices of Tommy and Levitt. “See you tomorrow,” she told Adam.

“Goodnight,” he nodded. Soon as he was gone, she stood smoothly, snatching up the little journal perched on the corner of her desk and going to Tommy’s office. He had left the doors open, so she was able to slip in without so much as a sound, footsteps muffled against the rugs lining the floor. 

Levitt was visibly sweating, stuttering over his words. Lucy raised an eyebrow, going to where Tommy’s coat was hung up to his right behind his desk. She slipped the journal into the pocket, giving it a tap twice, watching out of the corner of her eye how Tommy’s gaze followed her. He gave a barely indiscernible nod in acknowledgement, and she spun on her heel and left the room, letting her eyes meet the timid Levitt’s for a second before turning her head away. 

She flitted around her and Adam’s office, putting things away and locking them up for safe keeping, even doing some tidying. The whole time, she listened closely to the words being murmured between Tommy and the journalist. At one point, not long before Levitt rushed from the room, she heard Tommy quoting directly from some of the notes she had written in the little journal during her time spent researching Levitt and his activities. 

Soon as he was gone, she locked the door behind him and went back to Tommy’s office. 

“I take it that could have gone better?” she moved to stand on his side of the desk, arms folded over her chest and back leaning against the hard wooden edge. Her head cocked as she watched him rub at his eyes. 

“He was asking about Campbell and Polly.”

“I heard. You want him to be taken care of?”

Tommy wetted his lips, considering. “Yes,” he decided. “Last thing we need is a reporter sniffing around.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t seem like the type that we could just pay off. I’ll have some of our boys handle it at his apartment in Maida Vale. Quick and clean.” 

“Have them do it with enough flourish that it’ll make other journalists nervous. To dissuade anyone else from trying anything for a while.”

“But not easily linked to us, right?”

“Right. And let’s just keep it between you and me. Last thing I need is more temper tantrums over my not sharing information.”

“Okay.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair, reaching out to smooth his hand up and down her thigh. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

His arms looped around her, and she laughed quietly when he pulled her closer, his head tipping back to stare up at her, blue eyes wide and mischievous. 

“Adam went home?”

“Yes.”

“Hm…so it’s just us, then?”

Her fingers smoothed through his dark hair, fighting back a smirk. “Yes, it’s just us.”

With a purring sound from low in the back of his throat, he took hold of her hips and pulled her closer. 

“Tommy!” She laughed as he maneuvered her into his lap, as if this was not something they had done dozens of times before. As if she had not let him fuck her on top of his big desk the very first day they spent in the new office, her face burying in his shoulder with her teeth sinking into the thick fabric of his suit jacket to try to keep herself quiet while his cock pounded into her. 

He pushed open her suit jacket, popping free the first two buttons on her shirt and dipping his head to press his lips to the newly exposed skin. Wriggling in his lap, Lucy hissed at the feeling of his cock already hardening in his trousers, the material bulging against her. 

Tangling her hands in his hair, she tipped his head back enough to kiss him, moaning softly as his hands smoothed up her thighs, urging her to rock against him and fumbling with her belt. It was late, most people working in the building would have already gone home for the evening. But they still needed to be quiet. 

“Mm, did you lock the door?” Tommy asked in a low, rough murmur that went straight to her cunt, walls fluttering around nothing. The things he could do to her with just his voice alone were downright sinful. 

“Yes.”

He made a noise of approval that turned her legs to jelly. “Good,” he lifted her from his lap for a microsecond to slip her loosened trousers and knickers down, hand burning hot where it slid up her exposed thigh. “Always such a good girl for me.”

“A-ah…” her head lolled back, eyes rolling both at the praise and the first brush of his thick fingers across her entrance, circling lazily around her clit. 

“Gotta keep quiet, now,” he continued to mumble in her ear, breath warm where it fanned against her cheek. “Can you do that for me?”

She nodded vigorously. That was all she wanted; to be good for him. To make him happy. 

Turning his head, Tommy pressed a kiss to her temple and gingerly slipped one finger into her while his thumb occupied itself with rolling over her clit. He kept his movements careful and slow until he got her more warmed up, waiting until slickness coated his hand generously before adding a second finger and increasing the pace of his pumps. 

“There you go,” he hummed when he felt her start to flutter around him. “There you go, that’s a good girl…”

“Tom…” she whimpered, biting her lip to try to keep herself quiet, not wanting to disappoint him by letting any sounds slip out to be heard beyond this room.

“I know,” he soothed. “That’s my girl. Bite down on my shoulder if you need to.”

She did just that, nosing the material of his clothing aside to taste his bare skin between her lips. Tommy groaned, low and quiet but impossibly deep, at the first sting of her teeth against him. Her walls tightened, moments away from bursting. His fingers curled within her, pressing right into the spot that made her see stars.  

“Let go,” he ordered in a sweet whisper aimed directly into her ear, and she bit down hard to try to hinder what would have been an incredibly loud moan as her orgasm wrecked through her like a firecracker, bright lights exploding behind her eyes, entire body shuddering with it, pressing close to him instinctively.  

Tommy guided her through it, slowly coaxing her down from her high until she slumped against him.

“Good. Very good, sweetheart.”

She made a happy little noise at the praise, snuggling closer to his neck, nuzzling at the bitemark she’d left on him. Tommy stroked the back of her head, kissing her hair. Sneakily, she snaked a hand down between their bodies to palm the bulge in his trousers, and it was his turn to try to stifle his noises of pleasure, teeth locking down tight around the groan rising from his throat. 

Arms wrapping around her, he lifted her seemingly effortlessly off of his lap, setting her down on the edge of his desk while he stood, hands dropping down to fumble with his trousers. Lucy felt her mouth water at the sight of his long, impossibly thick erection bobbing against his stomach after being released from its confines. Tommy gave himself a few good, languid strokes, jaw dropping open as his eyelashes fluttered, face inches from hers. Lucy spread her legs wider, encouraging him in between them. Her hands grabbed at handfuls of his suit jacket while he lined himself up, sliding in with one deep thrust. 

“Oh,” Tommy rested his cheek against hers, hands flexing where they landed on her hip and thigh. 

“Quiet, remember?” she teased slightly, trailing her fingertips through his hair. He shivered, letting out a breathless chuckle followed by a kiss to her cheek. Burying his face in her neck, hands bracing on her body, he started to move. She could tell that he was trying to start out slow and give her time to adjust to his considerable size, but all it took was her purposefully squeezing around his cock and wrapping her legs around his waist, and his efforts went up in smoke. 

He bucked into her like a man possessed, low grunts muffled against her throat, a few trinkets rattling on the desk from the force of his thrusts. Lucy tucked her face back in against his shoulder, biting down hard on her bottom lip to try to contain her whimpers and moans as his swollen tip rubbed right up against her g-spot with each roll of his hips. 

“Shit. Squeezing me so tight, love,” Tommy rasped out, hand slipping between their bodies to rub at her clit. “Give me another one, yeah? I know you can, sweetheart.”

“Mm…” Her back arched, pressing her clothed breasts into his chest. Her legs tightened around him, and her jaw clenched with the effort it was taking for her not to let the volume of her noises get too high. His cock twitched and throbbed inside her, in the way that she knew meant his orgasm was imminent. The pleasure built like steam rising in a kettle, tension mounting until she felt moments away from bursting. Her walls spasmed uncontrollably around him, as if wanting to keep him locked in place within her for all eternity. Tommy hitched her thigh up a little higher on his hip, allowing his cock to get just that much deeper into her, and applied more pressure to her clit with his thumb. 

She came at the same moment that she managed to grab his face and bring his mouth crashing down onto hers, each of them swallowing what would have been massive moans as they both came fantastically. Her walls clamped down around him, insides fluttering with the force with which she came. Tommy’s chest vibrated under her palms with his growl as he finished, grinding his tip in as deep as he could go while spurting jets of seed into her. 

Lucy released a blissful sigh, closing her eyes and riding out the waves of her climax while basking in the feeling of him spilling his load into her. 

Tommy slumped forwards against her, face nestling in the crook of her shoulder, lips pressing to her neck delicately whilst he relaxed. His arms wound around her in a warm embrace, a quiet purr leaving his chest when she stroked the back of his head. 

“We should go,” Lucy finally broke the silence that had stretched on between them. Tommy nodded, shifting to carefully pull out of her, tucking himself back into his trousers and straightening out his clothes. He plucked a handkerchief from his pocket for her to use to clean the mix of their releases from her thighs, then let her hold onto his shoulders when she hopped off the edge of the desk and regained her balance. 

“Have you got everything locked up?” he asked as she pulled her slacks back up.

“Yeah, just gotta grab a few things from my desk to take with us.”

“Good. I wanna get out of here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Tommy Shelby eager to leave work? Is there a special occasion I’m not aware of?”

He rolled his eyes, giving her hip a light pinch. “No occasion.” He swiped a few locks of hair off of her forehead and cradled the back of her neck, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips while his eyes looked her up and down. There was something heated in them that made her thighs squeeze together. “Except that I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“You know, Frances, if there were to be a snap election in this house today, I wouldn’t win it. Even if I were running against the devil himself,” Tommy remarked to their housekeeper once they’d gotten home. Frances shot him a sympathetic look. 

“I’d still vote for you,” Lucy offered. Tommy gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, love.”

He went off to go talk to Charlie where he was sulking in the stables while Lucy ventured upstairs, wandering through the winding hallways until she heard the hum of Lizzie and Ruby’s voices. Coming to a halt in the doorway of Ruby’s room, she watched them where they were seated together in the rocking chair by the window, Ruby in Lizzie’s lap, head resting on her mother’s chest while Lizzie read to her from a book. 

“Hi, Lucy!” Ruby said when she spotted her. Lucy smiled.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Is Daddy with you?”

“He’s down at the stables.”

She let out an excited squeal, jumping off Lizzie’s lap and racing for the door.

“Ruby, what have I told you about running in the house!?” Lizzie shouted after her, but the little girl was already long gone. Lizzie rolled her eyes fondly, shaking her head and closing the book. As Lucy watched her stand to put it away on a shelf, she noticed Ruby’s suitcase laid out on the bed, half filled with clothes. 

“Going somewhere?”

Lizzie sighed, glancing over at the suitcase, then back at Lucy. “I’m taking Ruby to Arthur’s.”

Lucy stared at her. “Why?”

Lizzie’s lips pulled back from her teeth. “Because, I realized this afternoon that I’d rather swallow horse shit than sit down and eat dinner with you and him.” She began to zip up Ruby’s luggage. “I need to get away. From both of you. At least for a while.”

“You could have phoned and we would’ve stayed at the apartment in London like we did last night if you really don’t want us here this weekend.”

“I don’t know if it’s going to be for just one weekend.”

Lucy straightened. “What do you mean?”

Lizzie didn't reply. 

“You cannot be serious. Now, Lizzie? You want to toy around with the idea of splitting up with your husband now? Of all fucking times?”

“He made me look like an idiot at the family meeting!” Lizzie burst out, head lifting and tears in her eyes. “Everyone else knew about the bloody hit in Chinatown except for me! I am his wife! I should be informed of these things first! Especially before you!” The way that she spat out that last word, so full of hate and disgust, made Lucy flinch.  

“For fuck’s sake, Lizzie! There’s a lot of shit here that you are more than justified in being unhappy about, but this? Really? This is where you draw the line?” A humorless laugh left her lips. “I hate to break it to you, but him not telling you things is a normal occurrence. Ada didn’t know about what was happening in Chinatown either.” 

Lizzie looked away, irritably picking up a stuffed animal off of Ruby’s bed. Lucy took a deep breath, and when she spoke again her voice was much calmer. 

“This is not worth throwing a bloody temper tantrum over, Lizzie.”

“I’m tired of being disrespected,” she lifted her head. “I’m his wife, and he needs to start treating him as such.”

Lucy groaned, raising her palms to her face, fighting back the urge to scream into them. “Just once, could you knock it off with the attitude?”

“Easy for you to say, when you always get everything that you want–”

“Oh, do I, now?” Lucy rounded on her. “You think that this,” she gestured vaguely, “is what I want? To have to share him with a woman who openly hates me?”

“I don’t hate you–”

But Lucy talked right over her. “To have to live with the constant worry that you might push me out or he might change his mind and throw me out on the street? That it could happen like that,” she snapped her fingers. “And I could lose everything? Do you think that I wanted to live with that dangling over my head at all hours of the day, Lizzie?” She met the taller woman’s stormy eyes levelly. “We’re all getting a shit deal out of this, so stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself, and make the best of it,” she moved to the door. 

“You are so fucking selfish, you know that!?” Lizzie shrieked after her, finally fully exploding. “You sap up all his love for yourself and leave nothing for the rest of us! You don’t care that him spending time with you means he’s not here with his family! Those children,” she pointed towards the window that looked out to the stables, “deserve a father who prioritizes them over running after his fucking mistress.”

“Don’t you dare try to use the kids–”

“Well, somebody in this household has to advocate for them!”

“Don’t act like you aren’t just using them as a way to try to get what you want.”

Lizzie’s lips slammed into a thin line. “I’m going. And I’m taking Ruby with me.”

“But not Charlie?” Lucy challenged. 

“If I thought that I could take him without Tommy tearing me apart over it, I would,” Lizzie’s voice had suddenly grown very quiet. “I’d take the two of them far away from you both and never look back.”

Lucy shook her head, exhausted. “He’s not that bad, Lizzie. Compared to what he could be? He’s not that bad at all. He doesn’t hit you. He loves those kids…” she could see from the expression of stone on Lizzie’s face that none of her words would be able to reach her, and yet she tried anyway. “He’s got so much to deal with right now. Please don’t make it worse for him.”

Lizzie continued to just stare at her with a look of both extreme sorrow and loathing, and then she picked up Ruby’s suitcase and shouldered past her without another word.

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[mistavybe]

Go-to drink order 🍺🍸🍾🥂

If i’m having a beer, then it’s almost always a Stag - usually at a Carnival fête (for you foreigners, that’s what we call our outdoor Carnival parties / Soca concerts). Just FYI, Satg is my personal preference of the of two locally brewed Trini beers: Carib and Stag. Most Trinis will debate Carib vs Stag heatedly until their dying breath lol)

Back in the day my go to hard liquor was Hennessy... usually with an energy drink as the chaser. Hennesy and Monster or Hennessy and Red Bull etc.

But then I had an unfortunate incident that led to me projectile vomiting what seemed like gallons of Hennessy, Puncheon Rum, Red Bull and whatever I had for lunch that day all over the all white leather interior of an acquantiance’s Escalade in Brooklyn, NY circa 2003 lol. So now I can’t even stand the smell of Hennesy without getting nauseous. 🤷🏾‍♂️🤦🏾‍♂️

So nowadays, my go to hard liquor is vodka. Preferably Grey Goose or Ciroc. Never ever Smirnoff (swore it off forever after a super bad experience following a performance in St. Vincent circa 1998 😳). I’m over Absolut now too, having drank wayyy too much of it back in the very early ‘oughts lol. 🙄🙈

I also had a brief Hpnotiq dalliance somwhere in the late 90’s / early ‘oughts before the Hennessy thing even began. ☺️

Oh, and I nearly forgot to include the year or two in the early 90’s when all my boys and I drank was gin and orange juice, thanks to Snoop Dog 🤣 🍊 🥃

Overall though I have to say my absolute top choices for drinks right now: a good pinot grigio, white zinfandel, rosé or just classic champagne. 🍾🥂

Moët is my go to champagne and rosé. And if I start to list white wines I like, we’ll be here all day lmao.

Me coming to this point in my late 40’s is kind of full circle really, given that wines and champagne were the first alcohols I was allowed to imbibe back when my parents threw their now-infamous dinner parties and house “limes” back in the day. (“lime” = Trini slang for “hanging out”).

Bartender... lemme have a bottle of rosé and two champagne flutes!

[queenscharacters]

“You better not be laughing!” Farrah to Dustan (like ok they’re leaving for their destination wedding tomorrow and she just took a pregnancy test 🤣) (she will be laughing)

Dustan was not laughing. No, Dustan was on the brink of tears. Happy tears, sure, but he was trying his best to obey his fiancee’s wishes and he was absolutely shaking trying to contain himself. He knew if he opened his mouth, he wouldn’t just be laughing. He’d be howling.

This really was the best news ever in his eyes - almost more exciting than their upcoming wedding, even. The only reason he was losing it was because he literally predicted this happening (after all, they clearly weren’t the most careful) and Farrah insisted it wouldn’t. Swore up and down that their third child would be conceived after they got married. Dustan didn’t care one way or another, but he had just rose an eyebrow at her at the time. Hell, he even tried to be better with throwing on a condom.

“I-“ Just as he predicted, the second he spoke, several giggles left his lips. His fiancée tried her best to pretend glaring at him, but she broke immediately, dissolving into her own laughter. He couldn’t finish his sentence for nearly a minute, they were both laughing so hard. “Okay,” He wheezed, “I don’t even feel bad saying I definitely told you so!”

Farrah playfully swatted him, still laughing herself. They were literally in hysterics. Finding out she had been expecting Penny was nerve wracking for both of them. When it came to Dusty? They were blissfully happy, but still shook to their core. This child, though? They were absolutely losing it in the best way possible. He could only imagine his family’s reaction when they broke the news to them.

When they finally calmed down, Dustan wasted no time in scooping Farrah up into her arms, crushing her body to his while he still could. “Good thing we’re finally getting married, huh?” He mused teasingly, pressing a kiss to her forehead, the tip of her nose, then her lips. “I honestly didn’t think this week could be any more perfect, but like always, I’m stood corrected.”

[marveladdictt]

You walked up your stairs and down the hallway to your apartment, fumbling while trying to find your key. Your eyes drooped as you opened the door and were met with a cold chill causing you to shiver, but you brushed it off and walked into your room. You sat your bag down and brought out your computer and notebook, placing them on the desk. You had just got back from the campus library that was supposed to be open 24/7, but apparently even they have to close for some reason. So now you're stuck having to study for your class in your own home. You only had one test to study for—a quiz that your professor so graciously implied—then you could sleep for as long as you would like.

How kind of your professor.

“Love, you need to go to bed, you're stressing too much and it can’t be healthy.” His hand reached down to your arm as he lightly tried to pull you up. But you were too stubborn.

The video was long enough for the sun to rise before it finished. You were barely keeping yourself together. Constantly pausing it and slowly writing down the same notes which you swore you already wrote, your eyes were barely able to stay open for long.

I feel like we've all been in this situation a few to many times...🤧

Peter groaned and reached his arm out in your bed in search of you, trying his best to snuggle closer to you or pull you closer to his chest. But when he found nothing but your soft pillows and cold bed sheets, he lifted himself up by his arms, trying to find if you're here with sleep filled eyes. But when he didn’t find you snuggling next to you, he started to panic.

Why is this part so sweettt?!! 💕

He huffed and just started poking your cheek, doing it until you started groaning slightly moving. “Good morning my love.” Peter smiled and kissed you on the corner of your lips.

AAAAANSJSS I can just imagine a cute lil Peter poking your cheek tryna get you to wake up 🤣 🥺

“Hmm,” Peter hummed and checked your computer screen for the time. “Nine in the morning. Now, I wanted to make some pancakes-”

I'll take the pancakes Pete... 😢

“What do you mean ‘this’?” Peter asked, slowly guiding you to the bed to sit on while pressing the spider symbol on his suit, causing it to fall off. He headed over to the bedside table and picked up the lighter, carefully starting to light the candles. “I thought it's what you've been wanting to do all day.”

He's so innocent i can'ttt

“I don’t really want to have sex and I kinda wanna take a nap on your bed cause your bed is really comfy-”

“What?!” Peter jumped up, nearly dropping the lighter that was still on. “I-I wanted to take a nap with you ‘cause you were tired and I was worried about you! I don’t want...that now--I kinda just want to cuddle with you since we couldn’t last night.”

Pfffff lmao! How'd he miss that, but hey, props for not dropping the lighter 💀💀

“You like rose petals and the candles are the ones you said were your favorite.” Peter held up one of the candles. “We got a ton last year from that sale from Bath and Body works, and you didn’t have enough storage for all of them so I took some and I figured I’d use them now and light them so it looks all romantic an--oh.”

Oh, Peter, sweet, naive Peter *smh*

Peter smiled and gave you a quick kiss on the neck, regaining his confidence. It was you after all. He doesn’t need to feel flustered like that when he’s with you. “I wanted to do something for you. You’ve been so stressed out and I just wanted everything to be perfect.”

This is so pure 💞💞

He can look at you with admiration in his eyes as he is just bewildered by you. Not only in the way you look but the way you hold yourself, so effortlessly you. He can hold your hand at any time whether it’s on the streets of New York or at one of your places, simply snuggling on the couch and watching a movie. He can come to yours and even stay over if you were okay with it after patrols. It helps to get those dark thoughts out, just spending time with you, knowing that you’re okay.

Couple Goals.

“Good, and I was thinking about also getting some of their potstickers too—but if I’m honest I don’t really know the difference between dumping and potstickers—”

.... You're ruining the moment Peter.

THIS WAS SO CUTE!! I love Peter in thisss 💖

Sleep

Peter Parker x reader

summary: You overexert yourself studying, and peter just wants to help out

(this was a request but i accidentally deleted the ask 😭)

warnings: one innuendo

w/c: 2.8k

masterlist

You walked up your stairs and down the hallway to your apartment, fumbling while trying to find your key. Your eyes drooped as you opened the door and were met with a cold chill causing you to shiver, but you brushed it off and walked into your room. You sat your bag down and brought out your computer and notebook, placing them on the desk. You had just got back from the campus library that was supposed to be open 24/7, but apparently even they have to close for some reason. So now you're stuck having to study for your class in your own home.

You only had one test to study for—a quiz that your professor so graciously implied—then you could sleep for as long as you would like.

“Y/n? What are you doing? It's after midnight, ” Peter called from climbing through the window. Taking off his mask and pressing the spider emblem on his suit making it fall off. A usual occurrence, but watching you sitting up at your desk is a new thing at this time of night. Normally you are reading or on your phone, or maybe even sleep depending on your day; but you were always in your bed.

“I’m doing some late night studying for my test tomorrow.” You answered. “Have a shower and then I’ll meet you in bed in a little.” You promised as you wrote down notes from a video you were watching.

Peter just nodded as he walked over to the dresser and took out a fresh pair of boxers, then walked over to you and kissed your cheek before heading to the bathroom. You heard the shower turn on and then went back to focusing on the video. Writing down any information that may be useful for the test.

You’ve spent the whole day studying for the exam, and honestly it felt as though you couldn’t recall a single piece of information. Everything felt like it went in one ear then out the other and you couldn’t risk not doing well, not if your professor keeps surprising quizzes on you.

So staying up all night seemed like the perfect solution.

It's not something that you were unused to. You’ve had your fair share of sleepless nights, working on caffeinated drinks and doing your best not to think about how tired you are during the day. Some of your dates with Peter even consisted of studying and coffee.

You didn’t even realize when the shower stopped, too engulfed into your work and writing notes. “Hey, are you sure you’re gonna be okay? You should probably go to bed.” Peter's voice caused you to jump. You paused the video and spun in the chair to face Peter. He didn’t look too beat up from patrol tonight. He didn’t need any stitching or medical help which was always a good sign, although he did have a small dark purple bruise on his lower stomach that would probably be gone by morning.

“I’m fine Peter, I just need to know a couple more stuff then I’ll be done. You go ahead and sleep though.” You responded, about to spin back to face the desk but Peter’s arm on the chair prevented you from doing so. “What?”

“Love, you need to go to bed, you're stressing too much and it can’t be healthy.” His hand reached down to your arm as he lightly tried to pull you up. But you were too stubborn.

“Peter, how many times have I let you stay up at the lab or out on patrol, or what about your tests last week, hm? I let you stay up cramming.” You pointed out. “So why can’t I?”

Peter gave a heavy sigh then leaded in and gave you a sweet kiss on the lips. “Fine, but please don’t stress yourself out even more. You’re already smart, and some test doesn't determine that.”

“Awe, Pete.” You cupped his cheek with your hand and he leaned into it, smiling and putting his hand to cover yours. “I won't, don’t worry.”

“I’ll always worry.” Peter admitted, causing you to sarcastically roll your eyes but his little comment made your heart flutter. You knew Peter would always worry about you--not to mention you always worried about him when he was on his missions. You let go of Peter and spun back to the desk. You heard Peter shuffle under the covers. Normally after patrol he passes out right away. But tonight you noticed he took a little longer to fall asleep. He kept moving back and forth, switching from laying on his back, then on his stomach, and then on both of his sides. Eventually, though, he must’ve been able to fall asleep; you heard soft snores and saw his stomach going up and down.

Turning your attention back to your studies, you resumed your earlier position and got back into your studying groove. Pausing and starting the video over and over again, writing down your notes in your notebook. After your video ended you looked down to your notes and tried to make sense of them but you had no luck. Your handwriting was illegible, even with your own eyes. You sighed and tried to recall any information from the video but it was no use. You were completely blanking on everything. You restarted the video and turned to the new page, throwing out your old pen that is now empty and grabbing a new one. You leaned back in the chair and started rewriting your notes.

The video was long enough for the sun to rise before it finished. You were barely keeping yourself together. Constantly pausing it and slowly writing down the same notes which you swore you already wrote, your eyes were barely able to stay open for long.

Peter groaned and reached his arm out in your bed in search of you, trying his best to snuggle closer to you or pull you closer to his chest. But when he found nothing but your soft pillows and cold bed sheets, he lifted himself up by his arms, trying to find if you're here with sleep filled eyes. But when he didn’t find you snuggling next to you, he started to panic.

He threw himself off the bed which caused him to take a tumble and face plant onto the ground. He hoisted himself up and saw you sitting at your desk, video still playing, and your eyes closed. He meekly smiled at the sight of you, he was glad you were sleeping, but he doubts you’ve gotten much.

The position looked painful, your neck was landing on your shoulder that Peter was sure going to leave you with an ache. He walked up to you and kissed your forehead, trying to calmly wake you up. But when that didn’t work he pursed his lips, a little annoyed but still persistent. He lifted up your hand and kissed your knuckle, still no response.

He huffed and just started poking your cheek, doing it until you started groaning slightly moving. “Good morning my love.” Peter smiled and kissed you on the corner of your lips.

You grumbled and stretched your arms, blinking and trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes. You smiled when you saw Peter but then groaned again when the crick in your neck that made sure you were definitely awake. Peter immediately noticed and supported your head by cupping your jaw.

“Good morning Petey.” You leaned forward and kissed Peter on the lips. “What time is it?” You groggily asked, running your hand through his soft curls that always make him look adorable.

“Hmm,” Peter hummed and checked your computer screen for the time. “Nine in the morning. Now, I wanted to make some pancakes-”

“NINE?!” You jumped out of the chair and went to your closet. You quickly put on a sweatshirt overtop of your short-sleeve top you were wearing and came back out, grabbing your school bag and putting in your laptop and phone. “My test is in a few. Today at your place, right?” You asked as you put your shoes on, balancing yourself using the wall.

“Yeah, but are you sure you are up to it?” Peter asked. “I don’t think you got a lot of sleep last night, and it’s not a problem to do date night here or to not have date night at all.”

“I’m fine, I just really have to get to class.” You rushed out the door before Peter could protest. He let out a heavy sigh, knowing full well that there isn’t much use running out and stopping you. All he could do was be there when you would undoubtedly be half-asleep after the test.

So, he got to planning.

The next hour and a half, Peter was planning what you would do when your test was over. And after everything was set up, he went to pick you up.

And when he says pick you up, he means literally.

Putting on the spidey suit, he jumped out his bedroom window and into New York. The city’s loud noises filled his senses, but with being able to take a quick deep breath he was able to focus on the more important things: the annoying itch on the back of his head that wasn’t going away, trying to avoid the thrill-seeking birds that always flew a little too close to him, and you, of course. You definitely are the most important, but he didn’t want to pick you up with bird residue on his suit. He tried once, but you insisted on walking home while calling him with your phone to give him an earful on how he should clean the damn suit.

You sighed as you turned in your exam at the professor's desk, making sure he heard the annoyance in your sigh. You exited the lecture room, pulling out your phone so you could tell Peter you were on your way over to his place. Once the text was sent you pushed the heavy door open and was met with a cold draft in the air, then a rush of cold air.

You clenched your fists on Peter's shoulders, slightly pinching him as a small punishment for not letting you know about his plans. You had your legs wrapped around his waist and his left arm was supporting you, giving you a hug and pushing you a little closer to him.

You never expected that this type of air travel to be as pleasant as what it is. It was terrifying at first—and sometimes when you get picked up by surprise—but as Peter took you on little dates on roof tops more and more, you got used to it. It was quite a thrill, feeling the air rush in your face would be such a calming yet exciting feeling.

When Peter arrived at his fire escape, he started to hold your bridal style. He carried you in through the window and put your bag on the ground. Peter took off his mask and kissed you lightly, a small peck on your lips. It made your heart flutter more than any swing through the city ever could.

“I planned a little something.” Peter smiled cheekily. Just standing there, having that loving look in his eye… it made you go crazy for him, or as crazy as you could go while being half asleep and practically brain dead from all of the cramming.

But you weren’t sure how much you were up to for tonight.

Peter slowly dropped your legs but still had one of his arms wrapped around your shoulder, allowing you to lean into him and hold you close, while also allowing you to admire his work. His work being a clean room aside from the candles and flowers that littered the room, but more specifically, his bed.

Now, Peter isn’t the one to imply things, per say; and he's also pretty good at reading people's emotions, so you were just confused on why he would think this is something you would want to do now, after being up for too long and exerting too much of your energy into one fucking test.

“Hey Pete, I’m not sure if I’m up for anything really, if I’m honest I’m having trouble just keeping my eyes open.” You told him while stifling a yawn.

You looked up on him and he had a raised eyebrow. “I know… that’s why I did this.” He gestured to the neatly made bed and smiled proudly. “I knew you probably didn’t want to go out for that walk and picnic in central park like we planned.”

“Pete, I don’t really want to do this now.” You yawned this time, not being able to hold it in and you rubbed your eyes too.

“What do you mean ‘this’?” Peter asked, slowly guiding you to the bed to sit on while pressing the spider symbol on his suit, causing it to fall off. He headed over to the bedside table and picked up the lighter, carefully starting to light the candles. “I thought it's what you've been wanting to do all day.”

“I don’t really want to have sex and I kinda wanna take a nap on your bed cause your bed is really comfy-”

“What?!” Peter jumped up, nearly dropping the lighter that was still on. “I-I wanted to take a nap with you ‘cause you were tired and I was worried about you! I don’t want...that now--I kinda just want to cuddle with you since we couldn’t last night.”

Now that sounded more like Peter. But you were still confused about everything he was saying and doing. “Then what's with the cheesy room?”

“You like rose petals and the candles are the ones you said were your favorite.” Peter held up one of the candles. “We got a ton last year from that sale from Bath and Body works, and you didn’t have enough storage for all of them so I took some and I figured I’d use them now and light them so it looks all romantic an--oh.”

Peter had a look of terror on his face, his eyebrows scrunched and his teeth gritted a little, almost like he was cringing at himself. “Did it just hit you?”

“Yeah. B-but I promise that was never my intention-”

“Pete I know, I know.” You stood up and took the candle from him, placing it on the bedside table. You gave him a soft peck and held his hands. “But how did you not see it before?” You lightly laughed, causing Peter to do so too.

“I think I was trying to sort everything out before your test ended and I got a little blindsighted.” He sighed and put his head in the crook of your neck, trying to avoid looking at you from embarrassment.

Peter smiled and gave you a quick kiss on the neck, regaining his confidence. It was you after all. He doesn’t need to feel flustered like that when he’s with you. “I wanted to do something for you. You’ve been so stressed out and I just wanted everything to be perfect.”

“But Pete everything is perfect when I’m with you.” You smiled and ended up holding him a little closer. “I was just confused because you also started to strip in front of me-”

“Can we take that nap now?” Peter asked, not wanting to go into how oblivious he was anymore. You nodded and quickly went to change out of your clothes that you’ve been wearing for far too long. Peter tucked himself in bed in just his boxers--why he so nonchalantly took off his suit without any indication of getting clothes--and pleasantly waited for you.

He thought it was weird to be in love, the way he didn’t even need to think about what to do with your tiresome behavior and just knew, granted, he could have presented it a bit better but still--it counts. It was intimacy he craved ever since he met you; the stolen glances, the wishing that your hands would brush up against his again, the way he would visit you at the end of patrol just to talk to you.

Now he can do all of that.

He can look at you with admiration in his eyes as he is just bewildered by you. Not only in the way you look but the way you hold yourself, so effortlessly you. He can hold your hand at any time whether it’s on the streets of New York or at one of your places, simply snuggling on the couch and watching a movie. He can come to yours and even stay over if you were okay with it after patrols. It helps to get those dark thoughts out, just spending time with you, knowing that you’re okay.

You came out of the bathroom in one of Peter's tops and flopped yourself onto your side of the bed. Peter wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer, a perk of the spiderbite, and held you close.

You sighed contently as you let your eyes drop and be engulfed by the warmth that was Peter. “I got a coupon for that place with the good dumplings if you want me to pick some up later?”

Snuggling a little closer you smiled. “That sounds real nice, Pete.”

“Good, and I was thinking about also getting some of their potstickers too—but if I’m honest I don’t really know the difference between dumping and potstickers—”

“Pete?” You struggled a bit away from him to get a better look at him.

“Yeah, lovebug?”

“I love you, but please shut up.” You said in a soft voice, kissing his nose lightly, then resting back onto the bed.

“Yeah, okay. Love you, too.”