#I think its the darkness maybe? I also tried to do the very dark pub scene but it looks like absolute garbage.

[too-many-rooks]

'To your station.'

[the1975attheirverybest]

Here it is! Sorry about the delay. Hope you like it!

A/N: tried not to make it too dark cuz I did that a fair bit in BFIAFL. Also this is the first request that I’ve written in literal months so sorry if it’s a flop.

Warnings: smut, vague mental health stuff.

(Basically my fanfic speciality. Sadness and sex.) maybe a bit cheesy at times? Idk.

— — —

Matty whistled and hummed to himself as he walked through the hallways of his home. It was the tune of a song that he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember. But it’d been stuck in his head for two days. He paused in front of the guest-room-turned-girlfriend’s-office, sticking his ear to the door. She wasn’t making any noise. He’d consider that unusual, but he’s been told that he’s the one whose office habits are unusual. People don’t typically fidget and bounce their legs, contort their posture into strange positions, or struggle to sit still when they work. He finds that astounding.

He knocked on the door and turned the knob; it clicked open, but he waited until he heard the faint “c’mon in” to step into the room.

“Hi, Darling,”

She only half looked up from her desk, offering him a quick glance before turning back to her work. He he smiled as he approached her leaning to give her a peck. “What are you up to? Am I interrupting?”

“Did you need something?”

Matty couldn’t help but read that question, and her tone, as a sign of rejection, but he didn’t want to dwell on it, so he said nothing.

He waited for the sting to pass, then with a relaxed voice, he asked “ I can’t quite figure out what this song is. Wait let me hum it for you.” He proceeded to sing a vague, familiar melody. The type of thing that you hear at supermarkets or department stores and think to yourself ‘I know that song.’

She tried to think for a moment but gave up too easily. “Just ask Siri or google or whatever.”

It wasn’t really about the song as much as it was an excuse to engage her in conversation. But Matty is nothing if not stubborn. He tried a different route, this time making a suggestion. “Hey. I was thinking….” His hands touched her shoulders gently, massaging them lightly as he spoke. “Why don’t you come out with us tonight. It’s very lowkey— just the boys and maybe Jamie and his wife. Nobody you haven’t met. Just take a break from…all this.” He pointed vaguely to her messy desk.

“No, thanks. You guys have fun though.”

She could hear a faint sigh of frustration, and she knew that he was trying to hide it from her. Repress it. Which was typical of Matty, and really sweet. But the mere fact that he did feel frustrated with her is what’s important.

“But I miss you. ” He leaned over, his hands sliding from her shoulders to her chest, his lips right by her ear. “Please?” He whispered. The feeling of his voice, and hot breath, against her ear bothered her. And then felt guilty for being bothered by it.

“What do you say?” He kissed her neck. Standing back up to resume his massaging.

“I- don’t know. Where are you guys going?”

“Just the pub. Or I think Jamie wanted to upgrade to a restaurant. It’s nothing special. Just….its been a minute since we’ve all been back at home at the same time, so….” He decided to nudge a bit further, “we’d only be gone for a couple of hours.”

She loved Matty, and she loved the boys. But she also knew them well enough to know that it’s never been and it never will be “just a couple of hours.” Even when they plan on it being a short outing, they get caught up. It was positively endearing the way that they’ve spent their entire lives together, and yet, never seem to run out of things to talk about. Ordinarily, being around them felt warm and comforting, now, though, the prospect was daunting.

“I’d rather not. Just go on your own. Have fun.” She leaned forward in her chair, her shoulders now out of Matty’s reach.

Matty walked towards the door, leaning at the door frame with a loud sigh. He meant for her to hear it this time. “Alright, well…I’ll be getting ready in the bedroom, so you’ve got a bit more time before I leave. Let me know if you change your mind.”

As soon as he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him, she burst into tears. Suddenly keenly aware of the absence of his hands on her shoulders, his breath by her ear, his voice pleading with her. Why’d she drive him away if she liked it so much? Why did she push him further to harder that he tried to talk to her?

***

“G-good, you’re still in here.” She walked into their shared bedroom, pausing still for a moment to admire her beautiful boyfriend’s form as he sifted through dress shirts.

“So? You change your mind?” Matty abandoned his search for the perfect shirt to go pull her in for a kiss, half naked. Not that she minded his bare chest at all.

“N-no, I still don’t wanna go but I did want to apologize about before.”

“‘Pologize for what, babe ?” He walked back to his closet, pulling out a shirt and holding it up to his face. “Do you think this shirt matches the shoes? Really wanna wear these shoes.”

It was her turn now to be frustrated. She’d worked hard to muster up the energy and the nerve (both of which had been in short supply lately) to come speak to him as an adult, and he wasn’t taking any of it seriously.

“Matty, could you just- leave the shirt…leave the fuckin shirt for one moment, please. I wanna talk.”

“Oh. Right, sorry.”

“I’m sorry that I haven’t been…I have- I’m not- “ she searched her brain for the mildest words but nothing came to mind. She did want to sound dramatic, even though it felt like a tempest within her, she didnt want to alarm him. “The way that I spoke to you earlier. It wasn’t nice.”

Matty smiled, relieved. By the way that her face looked, he thought that whatever she had to say would be a lot more serious. “Don’t worry about it. Already forgotten.”

The conversation had ended faster and easier than she’d been expecting. She had nothing else to say. And it was unnerving. After all the worrying she’d done over facing him, it turned out to be as simple as a single sentence.

Matty, who’d held her gaze the whole time, read her discomfort. “Look, I haven’t asked cuz- I’ve been giving you space. But are you okay? What’s going on?”

She shrugged, her eyes looking away quickly. Even the mere question hurt to confront.

“Darlin, you haven’t been yourself lately. You’re erm…I dunno- like, withdrawn and— distant. I’ve been back from tour a while now but I still miss you because…well, we’ve hardly spent any time together. “

She had no response. She knew he was right. She knew he’d noticed the change within her, recently, but she’d been trying not to face it. Pushing through and hoping she’d feel better before making anything between them any worse.

Matty’s heart broke watching her feel tongue tied and upset. But he didn’t know how else to help.

“I’m not saying you should come out with us. Like I don’t wanna pressure you into doing it if you really, really don’t want to, but I was hoping that you and I could hang out. Don’t you wanna— like, do you not wanna be around me?”

“No; Matty! no! Never think that please.” She had suddenly found her words. If anything was going to motivate her, it was of course going to be Matty’ doubting her love for him. “I- it’s not like that at all. I do want to be around you. I really…” she swallowed the lump in her throat. Shit. She was dangerously close to crying.

“What is it then? Talk to me. I- don’t like seeing you like this and not being to do anything about it. I know that’s not very pro-woman of me. You’re meant to be strong and girlboss and all that. But I just- knowing that you’re feeling badly…I have this urge to fight anyone or anything that upsets you. And it’s kinda hard to do when i don’t know what it is that im meant to be fighting.”

She giggled at his intentionally dramatic words. Mostly because she knew that he said them specifically to make her smile. But the tears came soon after.

“Oh, hey, baby…” Matty cooed, “come here my love.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest and sat them both down on the edge of the bed. “Tell me what’s happened. Please. Why’re you crying?”

“I just feel shit.” She whispered, leaning into him, clinging to his chest, her head resting underneath his chin. “I- I- do you ever get this feeling that you’re just…stuck?” Her voice broke, she exhaled in tears. “Like nothing monumental has happened. I have no right to be so sad and anxious all the time. Everything is the way it always has been. But I just can’t shake it. I’m stuck in this headspace. And- I don’t- wanna infect the happy people.” Her hands fell against her lap in frustration. “Like everyone’s doing stuff. At work. In their personal lives. I don’t want to put my shit on anyone. I’m trying. I’m trying to work and all but I feel-“

“Shit?” Matty suggested, making her smile. She nodded.

“Like I don’t wanna be around you, not because I’m trying to avoid you, but because I don’t want you to have to deal with me. It’s like I’ll poison your brain with my misery. But of course I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much and I want you around. It’s been so long since….weve spent time together. I just can’t.”

Matty kissed her lips, tenderly, lingering there for a moment. He considered his reply quietly, simply rubbing slow circles into her back, occasionally cooing or kissing her as she drenched his chest in her tears. He waited, until her crying had calmed down, then he kissed her before speaking.

“I….understand. Kinda.” His arms squeezed her tighter. “I sometimes do the self-isolating thing too. I know that simply saying ‘you’re not poising me,’ ‘you’re not a burden,’ is, like, useless cuz your brain won’t let you accept it.” He kissed her forehead, smiling when he felt her relax. “I just….wish you’d told me sooner. I could’ve tried to…help. Make sure you’re unstuck or keep you company while you figure it out. Knowing that you’re feeling this way- while I’ve been literally in the same bed as you. Under the same roof. Going about my life. It fuckin kills me.”

“I’m sorry-“

“No, im not saying it to make you feel bad, I’m trying to say that…I love you even when you’re not yourself. Even when you feel shit. It hurts me more to think that you’d keep that struggle to yourself than to risk it affecting me in any way. For fucks sakes so what if you’re a burden? Be a burden!! It’s my job to bear it. And I would. Gladly. A million times over.”

She nodded along as he spoke, to indicate that she was listening, that even though her voice felt too fragile, moments away from bursting into tears all over again, she was still following.

As she listened to his heart beating in his chest, her breathing began to calm down. She closed her eyes. Clinging to him as tightly as she could.

“Missed you.” She finally whispered, barely audible. It was her own fault. They could’ve been spending time together if she’d let herself open up to him. But she deprived them both of this comfort. Which is why she was only admitting that she’d missed him, and not that she’d been touch starved and dying for him to hold her like this since he landed in the country.

“Missed you, too.” Matty dipped his head lower, leaning towards her face, kissing her, and feeling her melt into him. “Don’t ever wanna let go of you. Gonna keep you here in my arms forever.”

She blushed. “that’s a shame. Cuz, I was hoping- I mean…it’s been a long time since you and I-“

“Darling?” Matty chuckled. “Are you asking me to fuck you?”

Her nod was tiny. Imperceptible. “Please? Need you so bad.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely….”

***

Matty insisted she stay right in his lap as he undressed her. Her head rested on his shoulder, her legs across his lap, he’d removed her leggings, distracting her with kisses so that, when his hand touched her over her clothed center, it caught her by surprise. She gasped into his mouth and he swallowed her breath hungrily.

“Gonna take good care of you, my love. Make you feel so good, yeah?”

She nodded, shyly hiding her face in his chest. Though his fingers moved slow, his touch gentle, she still felt overwhelmed. She’d dreamed about this moment for weeks. As she laid in bed at night, all alone, knowing that he’s all the way across the planet, his scent on the cold pillow near her growing fainter each night.

With every brush of his hand, every motion, every kiss, she felt herself ache for him more. When matty finally decided it was time to take her underwear off, she knew it was embarrassingly damp. And she knew that Matty would notice.

“Wet for me already?” He chuckled, no doubt pleased with what he’d found. She whined in response, bucking her his ever so slightly.

“Eager, are we?”

She didn’t need to respond. He’s been dying to touch her too.

He brought his delicate hand down to her now naked, and drenched cunt. the first touch was the strongest. He’d been gentle, precise as ever, but it sent an electric current throughout her whole body.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this. Having you in my arms. Being able to hold you and to touch you…” his finger slid down, swiping along her slit. Her legs spasmed in his lap, a moan getting caught in her throat.

“It’s okay, honey, relax.” He slowly teased her entrance with his finger, coating it in her wetness before pushing in.

“Oh- my, Matty, please.” Her eyes fluttered shut.

“I know, baby. I know….”

He peppered kisses along her forehead and all her face as his finger began to slowly pump into her. Her panting grew louder, more shallow, moaning and whimpering for him as he pushed in a second finger, his thumb circling her clit.

“Oh, you sound so pretty when you cry out my name like that,” he whispered. “That feel good? Yeah? Good girl.”

“Matty- I- please don’t stop- feel so good.” Her face shoved into chest, her body hovering over his lap as she chased her high.

She thrusted her hips in tandem with his fingers, fucking herself on his hand.

“You close?”

the smile clear in his voice.

“Mhm yeah- gonna c-cum…”

“Do it, my love. Let go for me.”

Finally, the words she’d waited months to hear. She let go, shaking in his arms, a heady feeling of intoxication hit her when she caught a whiff of his aftershave as she pushed her head against his chest in her orgasmic high. That scent, no matter how she was feeling, could always bring her home.

Matty admired the sleepy look on her face, droopy-eyed, attempting to catch her breath. He kissed her forehead, “you’re so fuckin perfect. How’re you feeling?”

She made a nondescript sound of satisfaction, the laughed at her own inability to string a sentence together.

“Sounds like that took a lot out of you.”

She blushed, nodding slowly.

Matty giggled, “oh, honey….it didn’t take that much. What? Haven’t been using the toys we got you?”

She shrugged, his shoulders nudging his chest. “Eh. I’ve used them a few times, I guess. It’s just…”

He brushed the hair out of her eyes, kissing her cheek. “Just what?”

“Nothing else does me quite like you do.”

“It’s a good thing I’m back then. Would’ve come sooner if I’d known that you needed me.” He gather her in his arms, gently laying her down onto the bed.

“I always need you. But you’ve got a job! Which you love!”

Matty stood up, off the bed, to take his clothes off, rushing back to her side, instantly. He kissed her, “you know what? Ask me to give it up and I just might.”

Before she could object to how ludicrous that would be, matty began kissing up and down her body, getting her needy again in no time.

“M-Matty?” She ran her hands through his hair to get his attention in case he hadn’t heard her.

“Yes, Darlin’?”

“I- uhh… need you to fuck me. Like, right now.”

Matty giggled, his eyes twinkling in the dim light.

“Mmm…. How romantic.”

“I’m sorry! I just-“

“No reason to be sorry, baby.” He laughed, pushing himself off the bed to find his condoms. “It’s kinda hot when you’re feeling forward, actually.”

In the brief silence that followed, she felt hypnotized, watching him do perfectly mundane things that he’d done in front of her a thousand times before: grabbing a packet out of the box, walking around the room, taking his boxers off as he approached the bed.

“I love you.” She said, softly, for no reason at all.

Matty’s head whipped up, his eyes meeting hers. He smiled. “I love you, too.”

“Ready for me?” He whispered.

“More than ready.”

He pushed into her slowly, gasping, his stomach pulling in. For a moment, all she could see was his inked torso. She faught the urge to sit up and kiss it.

“Fuck- I forgot how tight you feel around me.” He whispered under his breath, slowly thrusting deeper.

She gripped the bedding underneath her, holding her breath. She, too, had forgotten. But she looked being reminded.

Matty exhaled, slowly opening his eyes to see the pleasure in hers. His hand reached for her face, caressing her cheek. “Fuckin love you.”

“M-more, more Matty.” She whined.

“Can I go harder? Is that okay?”

She nodded, biting her lip.

Matty grabbed on to her hips to keep her in place, thrusting harder, and moaning. “This better?”

“Mhm, per-fect.”

Matty bent down to place delicate kisses to her stomach, ocsssionally nipping at her skin. “Christ, you’ve no idea how much I’ve needed this.” He mumbled. “Don’t think we should leave this bed tonight.”

“…or ever?”

She’d smiled playfully at him but her smile was quickly disrupted when he brought his fingers to her sensitive clit.

“Oh my - god! Matty, keep- please don’t stop.”

“You gonna cum?”

“Mhm…yeah, yeah. You?”

“Won’t take much.”

He felt her release all around him, her body trembling, toes curling in. The feeling of her tightening around him, squeezing him, tipped him over the edge, not long after.

Matty’s arms and legs had given out. He’d toppled over her. Sweat adhered their chests together. They laid there silently, listening to one another’s breathing.

Matty kissed her collarbone, sneaking some words in between. “That. Was. Amazing.”

Orgasm drunk, she got a bit too giggly and feeling the stubble on his face tickle her. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“Wanna go again?” He grinned, eyebrow raised.

“What about your night out with the boys!”

Matty shrugged. “And what about it? Never should’ve said I’d go in the first place. Should’ve planned to be with you instead.”

Can I request some soft, gentle, romantic smut please 🥹 maybe readers feeling self conscious or not been in the best mental place recently. I know you've written this kind of genre before but you do it so well ❤️

Awww. Sure thing!! I think some cute fluff is much needed. Though I haven’t written it in a long time so o hope it doesn’t come out bad. I’ll work on it during my break from “work” for you.

[loousir]

[Satyr} Insecurities

Soft Male Presenting NB Satyr x Male Reader

Dakota

Warnings: Dakota get comforted by you after a sudden breakup and you end up confessing, they realized they like you too, mentions of alcohol (tho not explicitly stated other than beer), two faced boyfriend (now ex)

Masterlist

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Currently, you are on your way to third wheel for your best friend, Dakota. This guy that Dakota was dating was one that you really did not like. He was all sweet and kind around Dakota but the second they turned their back, he was a complete jerk. You knew you should tell Dakota but they just looked so happy being with this guy that you didn't want to ruin this momentary happiness.

Anyhow, both of you were walking down the street to a small yet busy pub that he had asked Dakota to meet. Dakota had asked him if you could come and he said yes but you knew he would have said no if that didn't ruin his "perfect boyfriend" image. You developed feelings for Dakota years ago, long into your friendship with him but you never confessed. You knew they didn't feel the same so you decided to just try to be the very best friend you could be.

Dakota pointed out the place you two were going and you followed them up to the front door. You opened it for them and they almost instantly spot their boyfriend, going over to him and hugging him. You smiled a sad smile and looked at the two before joining them at their table. He had sent Dakota off to get drinks for the three of you. "How have you been (R/n)?" He looks over to you with a not glare for once. "I'm breaking up with him."

Your eyes widened slightly. "What?" He nods. "Yeah I got hit pretty hard in the face with reality after the last time we met." His whole demeanor had changed from what it was before. You tried to say something but Dakota came back with a beer bottle and two glasses. They set one of the glasses down in front of you and handed the bottle to their soon to be ex who's demeanor went back to perfect boyfriend mode.

You smiled at Dakotas smile before taking a drink of what they got you. "Ah, (R/n)! Did you see the new episode yesterday? It was so good!" Dakota said before going on to ramble about bits and pieces. (R/n) smiled and nodded, chatting about said episode with Dakota.

A few minutes had past with the three of you talking before (R/n) decided it was time to bring the bad news. "Dakota." They looked up to (R/n) who looked like he just accidentally kicked a puppy. Dakota noticed and went to grab his hands to ask what's wrong but he pulled away. You looked away out of courtesy but still listened in. "I'm sorry Dakota. I dont think we can be together anymore. Its really me, not you. You've been nothing but good to me and I want you to be happy but it can't be with me."

"Maybe we'll see each other around. Don't worry about paying for drinks, I'll cover it on the way out." He said standing up to leave. Dakota couldn't seem to process what what happening as they watched their now ex-boyfriend walk away. "Kota, let's go." You said standing and grabbing their hand.

They didn't move but instead started to shake slightly. "Dakota, please." You pulled them up and practically dragged them out of the pub and stopped when you were a block away from it. Dakota hadn't said a word but held on tightly to your hand. "Do you wanna go back to your house?" You asked, looking to them. They nodded softly, more hair moving to cover their usually covered eyes.

You squeezed their hand gently as the two of you walked back to Dakotas place. It wasn't too far from the pub so neither of you saw the point in taking the car. After a few minutes of walking, Dakota stopped, making you look back. "Im... S-so sorry... I... I cant..." They tried to say something but ended up almost collapsing, legs shaking like crazy. You caught them before they could and opted to carry them the rest of the way.

Dakota holds onto you and cries into your neck. You gently rub the back of their head and whisper reassuring words into their ears. After a few more minutes of walking, you make it to the house and carefully unlock the door and close it behind you before taking them upstairs to their bedroom. "I'll go grab some water. I'll be right back ok?"

You head back down stairs, lost in thought as you grabbed water from the fridge before heading back up. You didn't expect to see what you did though.

Your body stood ridgid with shock. Standing in front of you, staring back with wild and afraid eyes was your best friend of 5 years. They looked like they were wearing pants but they weren't. Their legs were covered in dark brown fur, same colour as their hair. Your eyes followed the soft digitigrade shape down to the cloven hooves in place of feet. A small tail to match laid tight against their body.

"Dakota..?"

You breathed out hesitantly. They seemed to snap out of whatever trance they were in for a moment and they started to shake. "Hey... Hey whats wrong?" You asked as you very slowly approached them, as if the wrong step could send them sprinting away. They didn't say a word and you eventually got to their side. You very carefully grabbed their hand but they pulled it away faster than you could blink.

They looked at you with such fear that you could barely even tell if it was your sweet Dakota anymore. A tense moment passed as you had seen his eyes for the first time. You gently took their hand again and pressed their palm against your chest. They could feel your heart pounding, theirs was probably just as fast. You and Dakota had this thing where if one of you were panicking, the other would place a hand on the heart of the one whos panicking. It usually ended with a hug but it was really just a comfort thing that Dakota had started with you when they had a panic attack in public. Once they had seemed to realized, some lever must have flipped as they pulled you into a tight hug.

"(Y/n)..."

You hugged them back, gently placing a hand on the back of their head to keep them close. A silent minute had past before you felt your shoulder getting wet again. "I'm so sorry." It was barely a whisper but you heard it. Neither of you said a word after that. Dakota pulled their head out from the crook of your neck and rested their forehead against your chest.

"I didn't want you to find out like this..." Their voice was small as they spoke, hands gripping tightly to the back of your shirt. You carefully set a hand on their cheek, coaxing them to look up to you. Their eyes were red and slightly puffy from crying. The bright green, almost yellow irises stood out against their pink-ish scleras. "Your eyes are so beautiful." You mumbled out without thinking.

Dakota blushed and looked away. "I know you probably don't wanna talk so let's sit down and I'll go first." You lead them over to the bed and both of you sat down. "Judging by your reaction you didn't want me knowing about the whole... Lower half thing." You paused to look at Dakota who nodded. "Sorry." You said, still processing everything. Dakota shook their head. "N-no... I..."

"I don't know what to say..." Dakota said with a heavy sigh. "It's ok. You don't have to say anything-" They cut you off before you could continue. "(Y/n) I've lied to you for 5 years about it! Of course I have to say something!" You looked away from them and sighed. "I would be lying if I said it didn't upset me that you never told me what you were." Without hesitation, you grabbed Dakotas hand again, staring at it as they let you intertwine your fingers. "But I always had a feeling you weren't exactly human anyways... Of course I wanted to know but I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable around me."

Dakota looked to your eyes, tears welling up in theirs again. You could see that they wanted to apologize for not saying anything but you just shook your head. "Kota, I could care less that your a Satyr. If anything I like you even more." You mumbled the last part but they still heard it anyway, signaled by the blush that rose to their cheeks yet again. Dakota placed their free hand on your cheek and made you look back to them.

"I love you so fucking much Kota. You don't even know. I'm sorry. This is probably a lot on top of me finding out about probably your biggest secret and the... Y'know." Dakota shook their head. "Its all been so overwhelming. I'm honestly surprised I haven't passed out yet." You let a small huff of a laugh pass as they pulled your face closer to theirs. "You seemed to have calmed down a lot." You mumbled out.

Dakota nodded. "Yeah. I guess I'm... Relieved... I've known you long enough that I know you when you aren't feigning truths." They pause for a moment. You took this moment to observe their tear stained face. "(Y/n). I dont ever want you to leave me." Their voice had been shaky since you found out about them being a Satyr but it was even worse when they said that. "I couldn't truly live if you weren't in my life Kota."

They looked at you with wide eyes. "Sorry, said something weird didnt-" You were cut off by a pair of soft lips against yours. You carefully kissed back, tangling your hand in their soft, fuffy hair. The second both of you pulled away, Dakota smiled and pulled you into a tight hug. "Kota-" "I think him breaking up with me was the best decision ever." You furrowed your brows, really confused.

"What? Why? I though you two were happy together." Dakota nodded. "I was happy. But I also saw how unhappy you were. A-and it made me realize... Just how much I wanted to make you happy because you make me happy." You couldn't say anything but just looked at them with surprise. "Can I... Can I kiss you?" You asked quietly. Dakota laughed and nodded, pulling you into a kiss.

Your hands decided to test the waters a bit and you gently ran a hand through the soft fur that coat their leg. They shivered and gripped onto your shirt, leaning into the kiss more. You pulled away and let your hand linger on their thigh. "Did... Did you really mean it when you said that you liked me more knowing I was a Satyr?" You blushed and laughed awkwardly while looking away. "Yeah... I didn't realize I said that out loud."

Dakota let out a gentle laugh and pulled you into a tight hug. "Let's take a nap, I'm tired after crying so much..." You nodded and kissed their neck softly as the two of you laid down.

"Please stay by my side."

I originally started this one shot at the paragraph that starts at "Your body stood ridgid with shock." so sorry if everything above it seemed weird-

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1890

[wiener-soldiers]

so, you’re real - tommy shelby

summary: while high off his ass, tommy shelby is approached by a mysterious woman offering him something more valuable than drugs: information. your services become essential to how tommy conducts business, but your anonymity means he can’t help but fall in love with you from a distance.

words: 5.4k

pairing: tommy shelby x fem!reader (race non-specific)

warnings: tommy shelby. that’s the warning.

a/n: first tommy fic :D he’s one of the most beautifully complex characters ever in television imo but that also means his kinda nightmare to right. so,,, he might come off a little ooc because he’s very soft!tommy in this. i also wanna write a tommy fic based off ‘why’d you only call me when your high’ by arctic monkeys for obvious reasons.

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist! | faq

Tommy Shelby could count the number of people who’s seen him high as a kite on opium with three fingers. Arthur was the first; he drukenly stumbled into Tommy’s room instead of his own one night and the smell of the pipe sobered him enough to start asking questions. Tommy shoved him out and by the morning, Arthur was too hungover to remember a thing. The next was Polly; Tommy stumbled down the stairs as he was high around three in the morning once as he searched the house for more booze. Polly watched from a distance as he sat himself on the kitchen table and wept, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his ears with his hands. She chose not to mention it the following morning, but a perscription for morphine found its way to Tommy’s desk a few days later.

The third person... was you.

You didn’t know the Shelby’s personally. You were the assistant of a local Small Heath accountant that dealt with Birmingham’s most infamous clients: local coppers, factory owners, politicians, even gangsters. Your boss was known as the Devil’s Safe—nothing that came in went ot without the client’s consent.

But you weren’t a saint. Being so close to his office at all times and knowing far too much about where the most influential people in Birmingham got their money and where they spent it, it was nearly impossible to keep your mouth shut.

So, you didn’t. At a price, of course.

You quit your job and created a small network of spies that could feed you information about anyone or anything at anytime, using your knowledge about the Devil’s Safe as leverge. You charged whoever could afford for your services, coppers and criminals alike. Some self-righteous copper tried to shut you down once. Keyword: tried. There were too many spies all over the city to try to arrest (that is, if he could find grounds to arrest them), and you were too important to too many important people that arresting you would likely have him assasinated.

That, and you tipped him off about a corrupt police captain who had been trading orphans for cash. It got him a promotion and you a protective shield over your dealings from the coppers.

Tommy first met you at the races. You were hanging off the arm of Roberts, Billy Kimber’s advisor, and he briefly caught your eye before returning his gaze to Grace who stared at him lovingly. He didn’t know it then, but you were analyzing him. His posture, his facial expressions, how he spoke to Kimber, and most importantly, his books that Roberts happened to have a copy of. Nothing went unnoticed by you. The Shelby’s were starting to cause ruckus all over the city and you were interested. But, to maintain your facade, you snuck a few kisses to Roberts’ neck to distract him from your snooping.

When Tommy returned to the table with the bag of cash his brothers had collected from the Lees, you were gone.

---

The second time he sees you, he isn’t even sure if it’s you.

It’s late at night as he approaches The Garrison when he notices Polly standing with another figure in the alley. He slows his steps and silences his breathing, trying to catch the end of your conversation.

“You’re sure this is where she is?” That’s unmistakingly Polly’s voice.

A soft chuckle rips through the air and Tommy suddenly wonders what your voice sound like. “There’s only so many women carrying a newborn and looking that terrified of what may be behind her,” the other voice says. It’s not soft or angelic, Tommy notices. Nothing likes Grace’s. It’s deeper, smoother, and he can almost hear the smirk in her voice.

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?” Polly asks back skeptically. Tommy has the common sense to realize she’s talking about Ada who had gone into hiding after Freddie was arrested. Polly hadn’t been able to stay in the same room as him for very long since.

You pull out another envelope from your coat and teasingly dangle it in front of her. “Here’s the list of all of Ada and Freddie’s known addresses. The Communists have them move every few weeks; the address I gave you is Ada’s current address. Go there tomorrow from seven to nine in the morning. Ada’ll still be in bed and Karl will still be asleep. Then, you’ll know I’m right, you’ll give me the full payment, and I’ll give you the rest of the addresses.”

Tommy is slightly stunned at what he’s hearing. They had been trying to look for Ada for nearly two weeks to no avail, but this woman was able to find her that easily?

The woman turns to walk away before Polly can respond and in the street light, Tommy can make out the outline of your face. It was so brief that he couldn’t tell if you were actually there or if he imagined your face in the darkness.

Polly doesn’t notice him as she makes her way back inside the pub. The following afternoon, Polly is pounding on his office door saying she’s found where Ada had been hiding.

---

The third time he sees you, he’s sitting in the empty Garrison with a bullet wound in his shoulder, whiskey coursing through his veins, enough meloncholy and anger to swim in, and a broken heart.

Billy Kimber was dead. Campbell was gone. But, so was Grace.

It was a series of emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time: relief, then anger, then happiness, then frustration. Then the shovels started. Then, it all got too loud and he slipped his opium pipe into his coat pocket before going to The Garrison to drink his sorrows away. He had never taken the pipe out of his room before. In that state, he didn’t care.

He doesn’t really know how you got in; he had angrily yelled at everyone to leave the bar when the night was late enough for him to feel emotion and locked the door behind him. Maybe I didn’t lock the door right, he thinks. In reality, you had picked the lock.

“I could’ve told you she’d been working with him,” your voice calls behind him. He’s still hunched over his drink, the pipe lying next to a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. He didn’t need her to clarify who she was talking about.

“You could’ve, eh?” Tommy mumbles dangerously. He felt light, but his eyes and his heart felt heavy. He hated the feeling. Oh god, he hated it.

“Hmm,” you hum back, taking a seat next to him. You reach behind the bar and pull out a bottle of gin and poor yourself a drink. Tommy watches you do so. You don’t look like you pity him, in fact, you don’t even look at him. Instead, you focus your attention on the drink.

After taking a sip, you reach into your coat jacket and pull out an envelope, slidding it over to Tommy. You had clearly seen the opium pipe that still had smoke coming out of it, but you gently pushed it out of the way so the envelope rested in front of Tommy’s drink.

“What is this?” he asks, still too high to think straight.

“Consider it a resume,” you quip back, taking another sip of your drink as you study the collection of liquor and spirits on the back shelf of the bar.

“For what?”

“My services.”

“You a fuckin’ whore? You think that’s what I need right now, eh?”

“What I think you need right now, Mr. Shelby, is a sense of security. To be ahead of the enemy. I can give that to you,” you reply smoothly, barely flinching. Tommy notices your voice doesn’t falter even at his jab. He begins to sober up, finaling looking at you.

You had an air of mystery and intrigue. Your eyes looked all-knowing and the corner of your lip was quirked. A white blouse was tucked into a deep red skirt with your black wool jacket overtop of it all. If he was a different man, he surely would have taken you home.

“Why are you telling me this?” he finally asks.

You look back at him, the smirk on your lips growing. “Because I quite like your family. Polly is quite intelligent and Ada is a delight. I also know far too much about you, so it’d be a shame if someone paid be good money to tell them everything there is to know about you. But if you came to me first, there wouldn’t be much of an issue. The rate for ratting out one of my clients is ridiculously high.”

So, it had been you with Polly that night, he thinks. “You’d work for me?” he asks again, tone getting more serious. The last time a woman worked for him, it didn’t end particularly well.

You laugh and Tommy is momentarily stunned. It’s a beautiful laugh that appeared in an awful moment. “I don’t work for anyone, Mr. Shelby.”

And then you left. Tommy stares a the door for a few minutes after you’ve left, wondering if he had imagined your visit the whole time. When he turns back to his drink, the envelope you left behind is a sign that you had been real. He hesitantly opens it and his jaw unhinges at the contents inside: there were several documents, reports, and even pictures tying Grace Burgess and Inspector Campbell together. It seemed so plain and simple once it was laid out in front of him.

Under the flap of the envelope was an address as well as a rate of service. It was high, Tommy couldn’t deny it, but he also couldn’t deny how the pressure on his chest eased for a moment when he was with you. Even more so when you had left the address.

The next morning, a wad of cash from Shelby Company Limited shows up at one of your drop locations. It’s more than you asked for and quicker than you expected it to come. You smirk softly and get to work.

---

Tommy doesn’t see you again until he pays a visit to Sabini’s club a few years later as he works on his London expansion. He had been a client of yours for nearly two years now and he was continuosly impressed with your work. You literally had eyes everywhere; there wasn’t a place between Manchester and Brighton that you couldn’t get to. You had been the one feeding him inside information about Sabini’s operations in London, as well as how to get Alfie Solomon’s attention.

Despite all this work, he hasn’t seen you since you approached him when he was high in the empty pub. He gets all his information through courriers, telephone calls from messengers, and packages from drop locations all over the city. He asked a courrier once why he hasn’t seen you since.

“No one really sees her, sir. We just get orders in one way or another, we excecute them, and then money shows up. She doesn’t want anyone to tie her to her clients or the boots on the ground.”

“She’s clever.”

“She’s bloody brilliant, is what she is. She’s set up this system so bloody tight that no one really knows how it works except her. One lad up in Coventry tried to turn her in. Went missing a few days later.”

He doesn’t think about you often, but when he does, he’s reminded of that night in The Garrison; how mysterious and beautiful and dangerous you looked, how his chest seemed less tight with you around. Maybe he’s imagined it. Maybe it was the opium clouding his vision. So, he pushes those thoughts away because as far as he’s concerned, you’re an enigma.  Hell, he doesn’t even know your name and he’s been paying you big money and giving away too much of his plans.

But he sees you that night when he and his brothers storm Sabini’s club. You’re sitting on a fancy velvet lounging chair, tucked under the arm of what Tommy assumes is a wealthy banker or socialite. You don’t see him (not yet, at least) but Tommy sees you. All Tommy sees is you. The smoke that flows out of your nostrils as your lips curl at whatever attempt at humour then man with you made draws Tommy in. So does the cut of your deep blue, satin dress. He knows it then, that you’re real. That you’re not a figment of his imagination.

“This place is something else, innit?” Arthur remarks as they make their way deeper and deeper into the club. Tommy is still drawn to you as his brothers gawk at the permiscuous behaviour around them.

The party atmosphere doesn’t last long however, as the boys make a show out of trashing the place. Tommy makes sure to put on a performance, to play up the fear. When he shouts something along the lines of being on a holiday, he happens to catch your eye and the first thing he notices is the smirk playing on your lips. He’s first confused as to why but he understands: you had a large part of the London expansion and you also likely knew that Tommy was going to be there that night. You weren’t there with a man. You were there to see him. You were there to see his reckoning.

The image of you tattooed itself onto Tommy’s brain and the feeling he felt in his chest was something he craved to feel again.

---

The next morning, the brothers stumble into Ada’s home, uninvited. Their younger sister begrudgingly lets them in, still clad in her nightgown, and hastily tells them to keep their noise level down as Karl was still sleeping.

It doesn’t last very long.

“You shoulda seen their bloody faces, Ades!” John hollers, mouth full of biscuits and tea. Ada hisses at him for spewing food across the table.

“Didn’t know what was coming, the lot of them,” Arthur adds, already taking a sip from a flask. He was barely sober from the night before and it wasn’t even eight in the morning. “Fuckin’ Sabini, Ada. He won’t know what’s bloody comin’.”

“Sabini, eh?” Ada plays along, still slightly annoyed but now intriguied. “You didn’t happen to hit up his club last night, did you?”

“’Course we did!” John snickers. “What’d you think we’d do, start small?”

Ada’s facial expression suddenly changes into one of slightly more concern. Arthur and John don’t notice, but Tommy does. “I was hopin’ you would,” Ada plays it off but Tommy notices.

“Ada?” he asks, voice stern but eyes curious. His sister was intelligent, so much so that her mouth was as good at getting her out of trouble as it was getting her in it. Tommy was sure that there was more than what she let on.

“Tom?” Ada says back, not meeting his gaze and instead taking a bite out her toast and jam.

“Why’re you so hung up on Sabini’s club?” Tommy asks  directly, slowly getting tired of his sister’s semantics. He mommentarily understands how Polly feels when he keeps things from her.

Ada sighs, having also attracted attention from her two other brothers. She sets down her toast and looks directly at Tommy. “You saw her, didn’t you?”

“Saw who?” Arthur asks, booming voice too loud for the sudden change of tone in the room. Ada grimaces but still stares at Tommy.

Tommy knows exactly who she’s talking about. But he wonders how Ada does.

“I did,” he says simply.

“Who’re you talkin’ about?” John asks next, looking between his siblings. Arthur shrugs at him.

“Did you say anything to her?”

“No.”

“Good,” Ada says too quickly. Tommy narrows his eyes at her.

“For God’s sake!” Arthur says again, slamming his tea cup back down onto the table. “Who in the bloody hell are you talkin’ about?”

Ada rolls her eyes and continues eating and Tommy is left to stare at his brothers. He wants to answer. He wants to answer so badly. But he doens’t even know her name.

“I—” Tommy trails off. He’s rarely rendered speechless, but he is when it comes to you. Who were you? Why did Ada know you? Why can’t he get you out of his head? Why does he hope you’re standing there in the shadows every time he steps out on the street?

“You? You what, Tom?” John asks this time, equally as exasperated.

“He doesn’t know and it should stay that way,” Ada says simply. “She offers you a service, you pay her, end of transaction. Stay away from her Tommy, I mean it.”

“What service?” John asks again, still getting more questions than answers.

Tommy sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “After Grace, she offered me a service. Cash in exchange for information. Said she knew that I needed a sense of security.” She was right, Tommy thinks but doesn’t dare say.

“Information about what, exactly?” Arthur asks, voice dropping an octave as he leans forward.

“Everything. Anything and everything. She knows everything. I don’t have the slightest clue how,” Tommy answers honestly, his own disbelief being obvious for the first time.

“She can betray us...” John warns, skeptical especially after Grace.

“She won’t,” Ada says simply.

“How do you know?” John challenges.

“She won’t,” Ada reaffirms with a glint in her eye. John immediatley backs down. Ada doens’t trust easily, especially after Freddie.

Tommy believes her. You know too much, far too much. More than he or you had bargained for. You also gave too much. Tommy asked for one thing, you gave him what he wanted and more. Tommy wanted a brief description of the shipping business in Bristol, you gave him an itemized list. Tommy asked you to keep an eye out for any potential threats, you gave him incredibly precise weekly reports. He asked people what your service was like as if he didn’t already know himself: you were never this thorough. He knew you wouldn’t betray him because you would have done it already. The question is, why did Ada trust her?

“You know who she is, don’t you?” Tommy asks his sister once again, doing his best to intimidate her. It’s no use.

“I do,” Ada says simply.

“Even her name?”

John scoffs. “You don’t even know her bloody name and you’ve got that look like you’re in love? Jesus, Tom! You need a good fuckin’, I’m telling you.”

Ada ignores her brother’s comment. “Even her name.”

Tommy gestures for her to elaborate and Ada hesitantly continues, “Polly paid her to find me after Karl was born. She found me personally, not through a messenger. We got along quite well, she was very honest about what she’d been hired to do. She gave Polly that information she was looking for, but we kept in touch. Personally, I mean. I like her.”

“Tell me her name, Ada.”

Ada makes a face of fake appeasement. “Can’t do that, sorry Tom.”

Tommy’s jaw clenches. “Ada...” he warns.

Ada’s glare mathces his own. “Her identity is all she’s got Tommy. The minute a client knows who she is, it all falls apart. For the love of God, for your safety and hers, don’t find her.”

And hell, does Tommy want not to listen. He wants to find you again. To see you. To speak to you. To learn your name. To feel the weight in his chest lighten once more.

But you remained impossible to find. Even with his London expansion, he wasn’t any closer to finding out who you really were than the day you first spoke to him at The Garrison.

So, he tried to push his thoughts away. He didn’t get so lucky.

---

He was used to receiving messages from you on Sunday evenings before the week began and Thursday mornings before the week ended. Sometimes, they’d be in the form of a phone call from a messnger reading a message written by you. Other times, he would visit a drop site where he picked up parcels of information and evidence you had collected. Fridays were paydays, so he’d get a Blinder to drop a parcel of cash (though they never knew it was cash) at a drop site and wait for a courrier with a blue ribbon pinned under the lapel of their overcoat to retrieve it.

All your foot solidiers and clients wore the ribbons. You avoided paper trails so everything was with symbols. Ribbon colours were a discrete way for both the client and the courrier to tell who was who. Clients wore white ribbons, courriers wore blue ones, messengers wore green ones, and red ones were used for emergencies.

That’s why Tommy panicked when a man burst into his office late at night the day before he was set to take down Sabini, urgently lifting his lapel to show his red ribbon.

“What’s happened? Are we in danger?” Tommy asks immediatley, standing up from his chair.

“No, sir,” the foot soldier said. They were never allowed to say the names of clients, only sir and ma’am. “I have a message from her. It was urgent and couldn’t have waited until Thursday.”

The man gives him a sealed envelope before bowing and leaving as quickly as he came. Tommy checks to make sure that he is alone before ripping it open. It wasn’t a message, but a phone number and the word clairvoyant scribbled quickly with fancy ink.

Tommy furrows his eyebrows but picks up his phone and dials the operator. The other end picks up immediately. He hastily says the number he wants to be patched through to as well as the word scribbled below it. The operator says nothing else and he hears the phone ring again before a female voice finally picks up.

“Mr. Shelby, I was waiting for your call.”

It was you. Tommy’s heartbeat quickens. You continue to speak, oblivious to his shock, “I don’t make calls myself unless absolutely neccassary. You don’t need to worry about privacy; I have connections with the operating center that patched you through. They won’t say a word to anyone, telling them that you called and they won’t be listening.”

Truthfully, Tommy hadn’t even been thinking of that. He was still slightly shocked that he was hearing your voice, the same voice as nealry three years ago. The opium fucked with a lot of things, but not his sense perception. Your voice was as beautiful as he remembered it to be.

He forces the thoughts out of his head and finally speaks. “What’s happened? Is there an emergency?”

“You aren’t safe at the races tomorrow. There will be an attempt on your life.”

Tommy is not entirely surprised. “I’m sure you can put two and two together; what I plan to do at the races is practically a suicide mission, dear. Of course there’ll be an attempt on my life.”

You scoff at the other end of the line. “Mr. Shelby, I’ll rephrase: you may succeed in your plan tomorrow, but something will catch you off-guard. Something big.”

“What is it, then? If you’re so sure,” Tommy challenges, but is taken aback by the silence.

You sigh, defeated at the other end of the line. “Mr. Shelby, I’ll be honest. An Inspector Campbell approached me this morning, asking for my services to give him everything I knew about you plans tomorrow. I took his money.”

Tommy’s jaw clenches. “You called me to tell me you’re a fuckin’ conspirator against me now, eh?”

“I resent that. There’s a reason I ask you not to tell me anything about your business aside from what I need to know to do my job,” you snap back. “Campbell gave me money to tell him information I didn’t have. So, I took the money and told him lies. He didn’t pay enough money to turn me against one of clients anyway and I don’t negotiate.”

Tommy laughs in slight disbelief, “You clever bloody woman.”

You can’t help but grin at the other end of the line. “He let it slip that he had something planned, though. That you weren’t getting out of this alive. Thomas, I don’t know what and I don’t have enough time to find out, but you needed to know,” you say before soflty adding, “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t tell you.”

Tommy nods solemnly before saying, “That’s the first time you’ve called me Thomas.”

You laugh and Tommy’s heart clenches at the sound. “Is that what you choose to focus on?” you ask, amused despite your worry.

“I’m not afraid of death. Not anymore,” Tommy answers.

“It’s a shame. There seems to be a lot in your life that’s worth living for,” you reply, your voice softer that Tommy’s ever heard it.

“Will you do me one final favour? Take it as my dying wish.”

“Thomas—” you start before he cuts you off.

“Can you tell me your name?” he finally asks, but he’s met with silence. He clears his throat and adds, “Please?”

You sigh at the other end. This is not how you were supposed to conduct business. Anonymity was the only thing keeping you from being excecuted at the hands of the Crown or a crime-boss. But here the feared Thomas Shelby was, asking as his dying wish to know your name. You don’t know him aside from your brief interactions and stories from Ada. But strangely, you trust him with the key keeping your identity safe.

“Y/N. My name’s Y/N.”

---

The following evening, Tommy trudges home covered in mud and blood. His encounter with the face of death was anticipated, but still left him scarred. Despite his success against the races and against Sabini, he felt trapped. With a success in the business, he still finds himself indebted to Winston Churchill. He’s exhaused of this cycle and in the moment, he embraced his fate just a little.

As he pushed the door to his home open, his eyes are immediately drawn to crackling fire. He hadn’t expected anyone to be home, as the family was staying in London with Ada to celebrate their successes.

So the sight of you, sitting on his couch and staring into the fire shocked the life back through him.

He takes of his hat and stares at you in slight disbelief. “So, you’re real.”

You turn to face him and the tension previously present in your features fell and the corner of your lip quirked upwards. “You’re alive,” you state the obvious.

“The Devil’s tried too many time to kill me, I’m starting to wonder if God does exist,” he says plainly, taking off his coat and taking a seat on the other end of the couch from you.

A small laugh escapes you. “He has jokes, does he?”

Tommy smiles softly but shakes his head and stares at you. “You’re really real. I was starting to think I was imagin’ ya.”

“Ada says you’ve been asking about me.”

“I have. She wouldn’t tell me your name, though.”

“You got it anyway.”

“Who’s to deny a man his dying wish?” Tommy darkly jokes again.

“I can’t go back to operating how things were. Even you knowing my name is too much,” you say softly, turning back to the fire. You were slightly frustrated with yourself. Years and years of building a network built around your anonymity destroyed by one man. Deep down, you felt that it was time.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Tommy says simply.

“But you’d want to be in my life,” you say back, still not looking away from the fire. “I’m a woman, but I’m not stupid. I know why you tried to look for me.”

Tommy sits back and watches her. A woman’s never been more direct with him before. Even Grace, who had just asked him to lay with her one final time before moving back to America at the races, had never laid out what she saw so simply and bluntly before. She was right. Tommy wouldn’t tell anyone your name if you asked him to, but he would still want to see you. The only thing more painful than not knowing who you were was knowing and still not being able to see you.

“You could start again,” Tommy says. He barely recongizes the softness in his own tone, but he decides the change is good. “You could work for me, have your men join the Blinders if they wanted.”

“I don’t work for anyone, Mr. Shelby,” you say again cheekily, reminding him of the first time the two of you spoke. You turn to face him and stop to admire his beauty—how the fire cast beautiful shadows across his face, how the moonlight sparkled in his eyes.

“That you don’t,” Tommy hums in agreement, still looking at you. His gaze hadn’t left you since he came home.

It’s silent for a few moments before Tommy says, “Stay.”

“With you?” you ask in slight surprise.

“With me, in Small Heath, with the company—whatever you want. Just stay.”

“You barely know me.”

“Then let me get to know you, Y/N,” Tommy answers, finally saying your name for the first time. He loves the way it spills off his tongue and you equally adore the sound of his voice when he says it.

You nod softly, agreeing with his hearfealt proposition. The two of you spent the rest of the night staring into the fire, allowing your heartbeats and breaths come into sync as you slowly fell asleep.

---

It’s been five years since you had started working for Shelby Company Limited as Tommy’s senior advisor and security specialist, four years since your network of spies had merged with the Peaky Blinders, three years since you and Tommy got married, two years since you gave birth to a set of twins named Benjamin and Mae Shelby, and one year since you had also become a political advisor to your husband and his allies in Parliament.

With your years together, the Shelby family found you to be an intriguing, fascinating, and intimidatingly wonderful woman. They couldn’t comprehend how right you seemed with Tommy. They also couldn’t comprehend how involved you were in their success without them even knowing who you were. However, they love to poke fun at Tommy for basically falling in love with from two interactions.

You were currently at the Arrow House doing the final touch-ups to your makeup for the gala you were hosting in your home. It was a typical charity ball that made sleezy politicians look good in the eyes of their constituants, but you had pressured Tommy to allow you to host it on behalf of the Shelby Family Institute. He had been skeptical, but relented when you reminded him that it wasn’t about giving them a platform to look good, but using their ego to benefit the institute.

“I’ve put the children to bed,” Polly announces as she walks into the master bedroom. The room is obscenely large with a king sized bed in the middle, but Polly can’t help but feel pride every time she visits. It was the both of your hardwork that you got you here and she was proud. “Ben passed out almost immediatley, but you’re right about Mae. She’s a trouble maker.” 

You give Polly a smile through the mirror of the vanity you sat in front of, “Thank you, Pol. Really.”

“Where’s that bastard husband of yours?” Polly jokes as she stands behind you, inspecting her pearls in the mirror.

“His study, no doubt,” you joke with a slight smirk.

“The faith the two of you have in my is astounding,” Tommy says sarcastically, immerging through the en-suite dressed in his tuxedo.

Polly rolls her eyes and leaves the room, leaving the couple to stare at each other.

“You clean up well, Mr. Shelby,” you state, smiling as he approaches you. “Though I’m not sure if that’s because of you or your OBE.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if I should have continued loving you at a distance,” he comments humourously.

You laugh—a real laugh—and wrap your hands around his neck while his arms immediately find themselves around your waist.

“How’re you feeling, darling?” Tommy asks, referring to the mental and emotional preparation for the event that was about to start downstairs.

“I’m not the biggest fan of a lot of your colleagues, Tom,” you say honestly. “Their wives however...they give me thousands of pounds worth of information every sentence.”

“You never cease to amaze me with that mind of yours,” he tells you honestly.

“And you never cease to amaze me with how verbally affectionate you can be,” you quip back lightheartedly before Tommy softly kisses your lips.

“How ‘bout this?” he says once you pull away. “I take care of getting donations, you take care of getting more leverage on the labour bill I’m looking to pass.”

“Done,” you say with a smile before Tommy kisses you again. You begin to hear cars pull into the driveway when you try to pull away, but he keeps you close.

“Tom,” you giggle, breathless. “Tom, the guests are arriving.”

“I’ve waited for you for years, they can wait for you a little while longer,” he replies with a smirk before kissing you deeply once again.

[along-came-atsushi]

Parallels between 55 Minutes and Dead Apple

While reading 55 Minutes a while ago, I realized that its story and Dead Apple had some interesting parallels or shared the same ideas.

Looking at certain scenes in the Dead Apple novel, some parallels became even more apparent. Sometimes, even the same or similar words were used.

I don’t think there is a deeper meaning behind this honestly, but I find it interesting to point out nonetheless.

  [Side Note: 55 Minutes was released in 2016, while the novel for the Dead Apple movie was released in 2018. 55 Minutes was written by Asagiri Kafka, while he only collaborated with others for the story of Dead Apple. The novel itself was written by Hiro Iwahata.]

Beware: Major spoilers for 55 Minutes and Dead Apple!

  1.  Weapon or abilities described as red heat or red sphere

55 Minutes: The main threat is a weapon called “The Shell” that upon activating, covers Standard Island and Yokohama in a red heat wave, vaporizing all life:

The sky was dyed red. […] Red. Everything was red—the ocean, the island, even Yokohama at the other end of the horizon.

.

“That’s the Shell.” The terrorist briskly walked over to Atsushi. “The crimson celestial sphere of annihilation.”

.

The crimson dome burned like a small star that had fallen upon the earth with an extraordinary amount of heat locked inside. The fiery enclosure rapidly imploded. The heat rushing towards its core.

  Dead Apple: Abilities collected by Shibusawa are described as red crystals. Upon merging two abilities together by Dazai, they turn into a red apple/sphere:

The two lights melted into one and spun until they formed a single sphere. They had produced a single apple—a juicy, poisoned apple red as blood. […]

The apple swelled as it absorbed numerous crystals until the red light became hotter than the surface of hell.

.

A hellish red light radiated as a violent wind gusted from the giant sphere.

  -> After this Shibusawa gets “killed” by Fyodor, turns into a dragon and releases a red fog that is about to cover the whole earth and turn it into the so-called dead apple.

   2. Allusion to Odasaku and Ango

55 Minutes: It’s been revealed that the Colonel who wanted to activate The Shell was the former mentor of Gide, the leader of Mimic. By activating The Shell, he wanted to state an example and for the truth about Mimic to be revealed. He blames himself for not being able to stop his former subordinates back then. Dazai remembers the Mimic Incident and with it, of course, the painful memories of Odasaku and Ango:

“You won’t find anything,” Dazai suddenly said while turning his gaze out the window. “The Division made sure to completely cover it up. You won’t find any records of their [Mimic] deaths, nor will you even find a single photo accidentally taken of them […]. The Division is good at jobs like that, after all.” […]

But Dazai didn’t say a word as he stared at a point in the sky with an elbow resting on the table. It was as if his eyes weren’t focused on the scenery outside, but were watching vivid memories playing back in his mind.

“I feel bad for the colonel, but there’s no reason to dig up the past and disclose to the public what happened to them,” Dazai revealed in a flat voice. “They died satisfied. Now is their time to rest.”

  -> Even though Ango and Odasaku aren’t directly mentioned, it’s still clear from the context and Dazai’s reaction.

  Dead Apple: Dazai visits the Bar Lupin, the former usual meeting point of him and his two friends:

He was in his usual spot—the seat next to Odasaku’s—and he was talking to the empty space next to him as if Odasaku were still here.

“What’ll we toast to today?”

“You’re not gonna wait for Ango to get here?”

Dazai could practically hear his friend’s voice.

.

That used to be routine, but now it was all in the past—never to return.

“…Ango isn’t coming,” Dazai replied to Odasaku’s casual remark from years ago. So many things had changed since then. Odasaku was no longer by his side, and Ango didn’t come to this pub anymore. Dazai sat at the counter alone. He was waiting for no one.

  -> Apparently these memories are still so vivid to Dazai that he can play them like a movie in his head, as it is described in both scenes.

   3. Ability/Ability User that is able to absorb other abilities

55 Minutes: Verne’s ability “The Mysterious Island” is revealed to absorb every ability from all the people who have died there. After his own ability took over Verne and transformed into its own lifeform, Gab is still able to do the same:

It was an extremely rare skill. Its range extended across the island he claimed as his domain, and it absorbed all the skills of the people who died there.

.

Well’s skill wouldn’t allow the same person to return to the past more than once, but if Verne used his skill to keep stealing hers, he would always be using the skill for the first time.

  Dead Apple: Shibusawa collects user’s abilities, once they die in a fight against them, which is similar to absorbing abilities, even though the technique is a little bit different:

“Each one of these is a skill, huh?” Dazai muttered coldly as he looked at the wall. “That’s a huge collection you got yourself.”

.

The apple appeared in Dazai’s hand and gently rose to the ceiling before stopping. It birthed a skill—an extremely powerful one at that—the ability to absorb.

.

In other words, Shibusawa was finally able to obtain Dazai’s skill through killing him.

   4. Dazai gets stabbed from behind by the main antagonist

55 Minutes: Dazai gets stabbed by Gab:

Dazai froze as if the rest of his sentence had been plucked clean off. And the tip of a blade was now sticking out of his chest. […] Dazai tried to turn around, but whoever was behind him pushed the knife deeper inside him and twisted it. […] With his arm stuck out, he turned slightly to the side before folding and crumpling to the ground.

  Dead Apple: Dazai gets stabbed by Shibusawa:

Right as Dazai reached for the massive photosphere […] something struck him in the back. […] His eyes opened wide. He could feel a burning pin shoot through his chest. [...]

Standing behind him was Tatsuhiko Shibusawa, […] In his hand was a knife that glowed dully as it pierced Dazai’s back. […] Dazai then collapsed.

   5. Dazai as an obstacle for the main antagonist

55 Minutes: Gab needs to kill Dazai, so that he can’t nullify him with his skill:

Gab’s natural enemy—Dazai—worked at the detective agency. Dazai nullified all skills he touched. […] However, if Dazai was to touch flesh, he [Gab] would cease to exist. […]

For Gab, the threat of Dazai’s skill was equivalent to having a knife shoved into his throat. There was only one way to remove the threat—kill Dazai so that his skill wouldn’t activate.

  Dead Apple: Shibusawa kills Dazai not only to obtain his ability, but also because Dazai had been nullifying his fog:

“There is no next move. I already found the skill I was searching for.” Shibusawa lightly gestured to him with an open hand. “Yours.”

Shibusawa’s eyes gleefully lit up as he gazed down at Dazai on the floor. “From the very start. You were the only one I was after.”

.

Shibusawa’s fog had the power to separate skills from their owners. Up until now, Dazai’s skill had been nullifying its effect, but it stopped working the moment he died.

   6. Dazai sharing or revealing something about himself to Atsushi

55 Minutes: Dazai says why he wants to kill himself:

“Dazai,” Atsushi said from behind him, “why do you want to kill yourself?” Dazai turned around and looked at Atsushi. It was his usual smile − a cheerful smirk that made him impossible to read. Dazai slightly opened his eyes as if to say, “Oh yeah. I guess I haven’t told you yet.” He grinned and answered:

“Because I        .”

What did Dazai say that day? The more I try to remember, the further these distant memories sink into the glow of the evening sun.

  -> It’s unknown why Atsushi can’t remember Dazai’s answer. Maybe it was too shocking, maybe he simply just didn’t hear it properly. Maybe this whole conversation never happened and it was just a fever dream. For now, it is up to interpretation.

  Dead Apple: Dazai talks about Odasaku and admits he had killed during his mafia time:

“So…” Atsushi spoke up as Dazai idly daydreamed. “Was this someone you used to be in love with, or…?” […]

“…He was a friend of mine,” Dazai added quietly. […] “He’s the reason I quit the Port Mafia and joined the agency. I’d probably still be killing people for the mafia if it wasn’t for him.”

Atsushi was baffled. He had no idea whether that was true. What did Dazai mean by that? Curious, Atsushi turned around to face Dazai, but all he could see was his back.

  -> In both scenes it’s described as Atsushi standing behind Dazai or seeing his back, which could empathize that he can’t see through Dazai or be sure about his true feelings (and in addition every other character in-universe as well as the reader). Furthermore it could also symbolize that Dazai hides his true feelings. This is accompanied by an illustration in the novel. But there is also a scene in the manga where Atsushi thinks about the ADA members with Dazai’s back turned to him:

   7. Akutagawa as a guidance or motivator for Atsushi

55 Minutes: Atsushi and Akutagawa are both restrained by Gab’s ability and can’t move. Akutagawa already tried to break free, but his ability is physically too thin to cut through Gab’s.

Akutagawa then “kills” Atsushi in order to awaken his tiger power, since the latter doubts himself of being capable enough. Later he assists and assures Atsushi in defeating Gab:

“Tch. Akutagawa clicked his tongue. “Then it appears your fists are the only things that will work.”

He was right. Atsushi’s tiger fists would be big enough to land a blow. But as long as his arms were stuck… […] Atsushi used all the muscle he had to break free, but he still couldn’t pull his body out. He didn’t even budge.

.

“Do you understand that? There are things I can do that you cannot.” The wind howled. Akutagawa’s dark blade pierced Atsushi’s throat.

.

A tiger roared. Atsushi responded. […] His body went through an unworldly transformation. He had to move forward. If he didn’t understand, then he had to find out why. […]

“Good,” said a voice. “Now hurry. Do not waste my time, Man-Tiger.

.

But out of nowhere, a black fabric appeared underneath, stretching from the surface. It became a platform for him [Atsushi] to stand on and support his weight. Quietly looking up at Atsushi from the surface was Akutagawa. His gaze quietly said, “Finish it. Bring him peace.”

  Dead Apple: Akutagawa withholds information to Atsushi on purpose, about why he isn’t able to regain his ability despite having defeated it:

“You fool,” spewed Akutagawa. “Have you seriously not figured it out yet?!” […]

“Akutagawa!” Atsushi screamed in spite of himself. “What’s that supposed to mean?! Answer me!”

But Akutagawa didn’t look back. He simply disappeared into the fog as he headed toward the fortress.

Why…? Why…?! Why am I the only one who doesn’t get it?!

  -> Although it’s noteworthy that Kyouka does the same, with high probability for the same reasons (Atsushi having to figure it out by himself).

   8. Atsushi is forced to kill a dangerous, unnatural existence

This is very interesting in the way it’s been build up in both cases. First the antagonist is described as an existence that is not natural (1), then their motive gets explained (2), Atsushi shows up, saying why their actions are wrong or what he’s about to do (3), and then the deaths of the antagonists are described as some form of salvation (4):

55 Minutes:

(1) The island’s skill rid itself of Verne’s personality and robbed him of his flesh. That was when the living skill Gab was born.

.

(2) What made him different from Verne was his reason. The guardian of the island, Verne, wanted to save everyone. Gab, on the other hand, didn’t care whether people died.

.

(3) “But you can’t separate humans and their skills. The reason you want friends is nothing more than a reminder from when you once where human. […]”

.

(4) Right as his fist was about to connect…

------I owe ya one.

…he heard the young man’s [Verne] voice.

  -> The last stage (4) gets even more underlined with Akutagawa assuring Atsushi by saying “Bring him peace”, as cited above.

  Dead Apple:

(1) Tatsuhiko Shibusawa had been reborn as a skill-like life-form—a divine being that wielded the power of the dragon.

.

(2) But his wish was still the same. He wanted to drive Atsushi into a corner so he could experience even more pain and torture than he did six years ago. This was a natural conclusion for Shibusawa to reach, for he believed that life was at its strongest and most beautiful when it was being pushed over the edge.

.

(3) “Here to kill me again, Atsushi Nakajima?” asked Shibusawa. […]

“I’m just sending something back to where it belongs,” he replied.

.

(4) “…I understand everything now. I know why you’re here, why you appeared before me, and what his words truly meant. You are the angel who will save me…” 

  -> Even before turning into a dragon beast, Shibusawa was already an undead being, and thus an unnatural existence.

   9. Abilities are described as sentient beings or something that can turn against the user

55 Minutes: Gab separated himself from Verne and took over his body:

While traveling into the past, the skill got stronger, transformed, and eventually grew to have a will of its own.

.

However, Gab’s consciousness was less stable compared with humans.

  Dead Apple: Ability users have their abilities taken away and are forced to fight against them to get them back:

It was Kunikida’s skill, The Matchless Poet. […] He had a good idea how his skill was going to attack, seeing as it was part of him once. He also knew that, unlike his notebook, the phantom’s notebook had the word Compromise written on the cover. A copy of himself that didn’t follow ideals but made compromises was an abomination to Kunikida.

   Lastly, there is also the topic of Dazai set as a motivator for Atsushi and Akutagawa and their bickering about what is right or wrong in regards to him. But since that happens often between them, I didn’t include it here.

[weasleydream]

unfairness

here it is, my participation to @omgrachwrites​ writing challenge! once again, congrats for 1k love, so happy for you!!

the prompts were “I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home.” ; “I really want to kiss you right now.” “Do it then.” and “This is all in my head. It’s all happening in my head.”

As usual, feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

TW: the end can be a bit violent

masterlist 

We had realized our relationship wasn’t as bright as we had thought when an umpteenth rumor about us had spread between Hogwarts’ walls, at some point during our sixth year of school. It wasn’t the first, far from that, but it was definitely the worst because it also involved this Ravenclaw guy whose name was still unknown to me at the time. As far as I could tell, there had always been jealous girls that had tried to get Fred to dump me, and plenty of boys that wanted to convince me that they had more to offer than the Weasley boy. The only difference with this rumor was that Fred kinda despised said Ravenclaw boy because of a Quidditch match the year before, and he had turned his nervousness into a burst of anger I hadn’t anticipated. Problem is that, at the same time, I had heard Angelina telling Katie that Lee had told her that George had implied that Fred was seeing someone else, and just everything that had happened that year had gotten the best of me. 

Our first break up had occurred a week after we had heard about these rumours, and during the rest of our sixth year and most of our seventh until now, we had ended our relationship twice more. 

The worst in all of this was that I loved Fred. So fucking much. I loved him and I was ready to do anything for him, and I knew it was the same for him, but it was just not possible to keep a relationship as ours was. We didn’t have the same interests at all, Fred was obsessed with his shop project and me with the learning of defense against the dark arts (through Dumbledore’s army, of course). He was nonchalant and sometimes forgetful, I was fussy and very sensitive. When one of us was too busy, a date planned was quickly forgotten and the fight very likely to happen. 

That’s why, as I was in my dorm trying to choose what to wear, the main question in my mind was to know if it was worth it. A few clothes were scattered on my bed, and two pairs of boots were thrown on the floor. It had been almost half an hour and I only had twenty minutes left before having to join Fred who would probably be waiting for me in the common room. I had hoped this little preparation session would help me ease my terrible mood but it seemed that it was a fail. Finally opting for comfortable jeans and one of Fred’s sweaters - even though we were almost in June, the week had been a bit cold - I spent the rest of my time reading again some transfiguration notes. I headed downstairs exactly twenty minutes later only to find the common room completely empty. 

“Of course…” I muttered. 

As soon as the portrait opened, the noise in the corridors broke the silence I had been plunged in for an hour. Some people were talking about the coming exams, others about the next class they would have. Not once did I hear my name in a conversation, which had become quite rare with the time. I had learned the hard way that people always had something to say about my relationship with Fred, and if there wasn’t any tasty gossip, then inventing one wasn’t a problem.

I found Fred in the great hall, sitting with George, Ron and Harry. They were all talking about something that had to be classified as a defence secret considering how they suddenly became interested in everything that wasn’t me. Ron and Harry turned to Hermione, who was sitting at the table behind them, and George patted Fred’s shoulder before nodding at me and leaving without a word. It was usual, this taciturn behaviour George had when I was here; we had never gotten along that well, and if I was being honest, it was probably another problem between Fred and I. 

We headed outside and took the road to Hogsmeade. We were walking next to each other, our hands brushing every now and then without ever really touching. The distance had become natural, touches were rare now and it was in moments like these that I hated it the most. Hating on the happy couples we saw on our way was easier than trying to find something nice to talk about, so that’s what I did. Fred looked like he was lost in his world and he only gave me some attention when he pushed the Three Broomsticks’ door for me. We found a table against a window, which provided a nice warmth, and Fred put his jacket on the chair. 

“Butterbeer or hot chocolate?”

“You know the answer.” I said, playing with my sleeve.

“So it’ll be hot chocolate with chamallows for the damsel.”

He left with a smile to order our drinks, leaving me alone for a good five minutes. When he came back, a pint of butterbeer in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other, I had had plenty of time to ruminate over everything I had decided to talk about with him during the past two days. However, the chuckle that shook his shoulders when he told me about the guy who had just tripped with three bottles of butterbeer in his hands stopped me. It could be a good afternoon, and these were too rare for my liking. It happened of course, our relationship wasn’t absolute hell, but it had definitely worsened with the time. 

“Y/N, you okay? You look quite pale.” Fred was looking at me with concern in the eyes. “No, don’t tell me: I bet a galleon you’ve been working on your potion essay until very very late at night. How right am I?”

“Very right,” I muttered before passing a hand on my face. “I don’t get it. How can you spend so little time on your work without being at least a little bit nervous?”

“You know I don’t really care about all of this. I’ve got other priorities and bigger ambitions.”

“I know, but you’ll need this knowledge, won’t you?”

Fred was keen to avoid another argument, and he sighed loudly. 

“We’ve already talked about this Y/N, George and I can do without all this scolar stuff. Plenty of people have done that already.”

“I know, I know.”

“I’m sorry we’ve spent all that time arguing.” added Fred after a pause. “It’s not time we can gain back.”

“Maybe we can’t,” I began cautiously, “but we can try to do better. Try not to lose more time.”

“It’s not like we have more time to lose anyway.” Another pause. “Do you want to take a walk? Looks like it’s getting warmer outside.”

We got up and exited the pub. Indeed, the sun was higher in the sky and its rays weren’t hidden by clouds. The warmth on my face was more than welcome, and the pleasant sensation made me forget Fred’s last sentence. 

This time, he grabbed my hand and we exchanged jokes on the way back to the castle. We bumped into a few friends and even one or two professors, but most of the time it was just Fred and I. Until the moment we arrived near the castle entrance, that is. 

“Hey Y/L/N, how are you?”

A Slytherin guy stepped in front of me, obliging me to stop and pull on Fred’s hand. The least I could say was that he didn’t look pleased at all with the interruption. The Slytherin didn’t look like he gave a care and kept smiling at me. 

“I was thinking, we could go to Hogsmeade together one of these days. I mean, I guess you want to cover your back, so I’m here if-”

I wanted this pretentious git to shut up, and it looked like Fred had read in my mind because his fist collided with the nose of the guy with a disgusting noise of cracked bone. 

“That’s what you get for trying to ask my girlfriend out.” he muttered before grabbing my hand. 

I should have said something, whether thank you or are you crazy? but in all honesty I was trying to calm my heart, which was beating like crazy. It was rare to hear such words from Fred’s mouth or so it had become, but hearing him calling me his girlfriend, punching a guy that was hitting on me, that gave me hope for our couple. 

And it made it even more painful when, a few weeks later, Fred left Hogwarts with George on his broom without a word to me. Without something as simple as a glance behind. All I could do was watch helplessly as he saluted Peeves and flew away and try to process the fact that he was giving up on me. Did that mean that we weren’t together anymore? That he had decided on his own he had enough of me, that I wasn’t worth the effort? It’s right here, alone in this crowded corridor after the most crazy departure from the castle we had witnessed, that I understood the meaning of what Fred had told me back at the Three Broomsticks, during our last date. It’s not like we have more time to lose anyway. What an idiot I had been! Here I was, thinking he was talking about the war, persuaded that he was just being extremely pessimistic, when he was in fact confessing that he was going to leave the castle and basically dump me without having the decency to assume it in front of me! I got back to my dorm, trying my best to keep a neutral face as I knew most of the students I would bump into were going to search for the slightest ounce of pain on my face. I only let my walls crumble when I got to the common room, and the first sobs left my mouth when the door of the dorm was closed. 

I threw myself on my bed and grabbed the pillow that I wedged underneath my chest. The anger would come later; for now, I needed to cry as many tears as I had in stock. I stayed in my bed the rest of the day, did surprisingly well in faking sleep when the dorm filled, and spent an agitated night. When I got up the next morning, my first thought was to wonder why my head was so heavy and painful, and when I remembered, my second thought was that it was time for anger. I grabbed my prettiest shirt, slipped in a particularly fitting pair of jeans, and watched myself in the mirror, hoping to fool people enough to avoid questions. At the sight of my dull skin, my eye bags and my glossy eyes, I realized the most beautiful clothes in the world wouldn’t make me feel better, so I sighed, grabbed my bag, sighed again and left the dorm with one goal: forgetting Fred Weasley, my love for him and the pain he had caused me. 

_ _ _ 

A few months later, it had become very obvious that I had failed that goal. I was still full of resentment toward Fred and what he had done, and I was able to get really irritated when someone reminded me of him in any way. The fact that I had gotten involved completely in the Order and that most of his family was in it too didn’t help at all and it had led to a few encounters I would have given anything to avoid. Fortunately, he was busy with his joke shop and we never saw each other long enough to say more than hello. Well, that was before Mrs Weasley organized a diner at the Burrow with a few members of the Order, me included. 

She had been particularly pleased to see me, and Ginny had confessed it was because her mother was persuaded I would run away. 

“You know, because of the git I have to call my brother.” she had added with a disapproving pout. 

Ginny had been very disappointed in Fred when he had left, not because of school because she would have done the same if she could but because he had left me on the sidelines. She was a good friend and confident, and even though family was everything to her, she had assured me she would never forgive Fred for what she used to call “a very stupid mistake”. However, as I was squeezed on the couch between her and Tonks, all the support she could provide me wasn’t enough considering the fact that Fred was only a meter or two away and his eyes were fixed on me. I was repeating myself that it didn’t matter, I didn’t care, it didn’t matter, but his gaze seemed to be getting heavier as the minutes passed by. It took me a good quarter of an hour to gather enough courage to look directly at him with the idea of making him understand he was annoying me, but the strange sparkle in his eyes intrigued me more than it should and I found myself looking away faster than what my ego could accept. A few seconds later, his hand was on my shoulder. 

“Do you mind if we talk?”

Ginny’s elbow hit my ribs repetitively until I sighed. I got up without a word and lifted an eyebrow, which Fred interpreted as a positive answer and apparently as an authorization to grab my hand. 

“Don’t go too far.” I warned before removing my hand and walking toward the stairs. 

I didn’t know how this would turn out as we hadn’t had any proper conversation since he had left months ago. All this rancour I had built up was ready to resurface at any moment, and I wanted to do my best to avoid the disaster. That’s why I decided it would be better if this conversation happened on a ground as neutral as possible, which would be complicated considering the fact that I was in his childhood home, but not impossible. I settled for a room I was sure wasn’t the twins’, maybe Bill’s, and if he wondered why this choice, Fred never questioned it out loud. The door closed behind his back, and I was surprised to notice that it didn’t cause me any anxiety. 

“You look tired.” he finally said with a certain hesitation when he understood I wouldn’t speak first. 

Quite honestly, I had imagined a lot of things, but certainly not this. 

“I’m- what? What does that mean?” I added with a grunt. 

“It means I think you look tired. Is it that surprising?”

“That you’re concerned for my well-being? Since you left school without telling me and didn’t give me any news I have to admit that yes, it’s surprising!”

It was too late to contain my anger as it seemed, and I decided the best I could do was leave the room before exploding. It was without counting on Fred though, who visibly didn’t want me to leave. 

“Get out of the way Fred, there’s nothing left to say.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, there’s everything to say.”

We looked each other in the eyes for quite a long time, and I eventually sighed before looking away, too afraid of the heartbeat my heart missed. 

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m sorry for what I did.”

“You’re right, I don’t want to hear it.”

“I wanted to tell you, really, I did, but things weren’t great between us and… I don’t know, I didn’t think that much.” I scoffed and took a step backward. Fred’s eyes were filled with what I had a hard time admitting was sadness - or regret, maybe? - and they followed every movement I made to sit on the bed. “Listen Y/N, back then I really loved you and I still love you now. But this thing between us… It turned out not good at all, it wasn’t healthy for us to keep it the way it was.”

“So you think you only had two options? You decided by yourself you had to choose between staying with me and keep suffering or leaving without a word?” My voice was maybe a bit louder than intended, but it was too late to keep my heart closed. He wanted a discussion, he would have it. “You never for a second imagined we could make it work again? Fred, what you did was breaking my heart, nothing else!”

“And I broke mine in the process.” 

“I- I don’t believe you. You’re the one who made the decision, you are the responsible. You are responsible!”

Fred looked away, and I could have sworn he was tearing up. All the words he could have come up with wouldn’t have changed my mind, but the tears that were now threatening to run down his face made my anger falter. It wasn’t pity but comprehension; these tears, they had covered my face so many times these last months and even before that I could recognize them undoubtedly. I was blaming Fred for leaving me, and even if I wouldn’t forgive him for the way he did it, blaming him for wanting a true breakup would be hypocritical. After all, hadn’t I thought about it myself? The only difference was that Fred had been brave enough to end it, not me. But that didn’t make the abandon any less painful, or these last months any less hard to think about. 

“Why now? It’s been months, why do you apologize now?”

Fred sniffed quietly and passed his hand on his face, wiping away a few tears in the process.

“Would you have let me apologize before?” Of course not, I would have punched him and left. “We were both hating me for what I did Y/N, and… I know I’m not pardonable, I just want you to understand that I regret and that no matter what happened, I’ll always be there if you need me.”

“I’ll be too Fred, trust me. But you’re right, you’re not pardonable.”

And I left without saying anything else, closed quietly the door between Fred and I, and it felt like it was the definitive end for us. 

_ _ _ 

Something like three weeks later, the situation of the wizarding world had worsened exponentially. Attacks from death eaters were getting more and more common, and this toward muggles, blood traitors and members of the Order. Two weeks ago, I had participated in my first real monitoring mission with Tonks, and that had made me a veritable member of the Order with all the dangers that it implied. My relationship with Fred had become a bit better after our conversation at the Burrow and he had been the first to show worry about me. An hour or so before my departure for the mission with Tonks, he had left the shop to find me and tell me to keep the Dumbledore’s Army galleon so that he could know if I was in trouble. I had accepted because I wanted him to leave but with time, I had concluded that having it with me was reassuring. I would have never admitted it in front of him though. 

A few days ago, Fred had invited me for a special evening at the shop that was organized for the presentation of a new product. He had refused to tell me anything about it and had assured me I would find it hilarious. I wanted to go but the thought of spending an evening with him still made me uncomfortable. Finally, I had accepted on the condition that Ginny was coming with me. 

The first thought that crossed my head when I apparated in Diagon Alley is that never in my life would I have thought it possible to see it so empty, so lifeless. Almost all the boutiques I had visited so many times were closed, some because the owner had stopped their activity for a question of security and others because of much darker reasons. My eyes found the only bright light of the alley and I picked up the pace to reach the twins’ shop quicker. All the customers were hurrying inside, they probably felt as oppressed as I did. 

“Here you are!” exclaimed Ginny when I reached the door. “I was beginning to think you had changed your mind. Glad you didn���t though, George told me what the new product is and it really seems fun.”

I hummed absent-mindedly as my eyes left the floor to wander around me. Trying to convince myself I wasn’t looking for Fred would have been stupid and a loss of time, so I just grumbled once more at my weakness and asked Ginny where her brother was. 

“Probably in the back shop preparing his grand entrance. Come on, let’s get closer to the stage.”

If she didn’t make any comment, I didn’t miss her smirk as she grabbed my hand to drag me through the crowd of customers. We finally reached the stage that was occupying all the space in this part of the shop, and I found an empty spot somewhere on the left. On the stage was a huge white cover that was hiding what looked like a board and a table one behind the other, and I barely had the time to think that it was a very simple installation before the twins made their appearance. Everyone cheered and especially the younger ones and Ginny. For my part, I adopted a small smile that widened when Fred winked at me - against my will, I promise. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” began Fred. 

“Dear customers,” continued George. 

“Let us present to you our latest product.”

“It is the result of a long work of research and development-”

“And your future darling, it’s a promise.”

George waved his wand and the cover disappeared. 

At first, the silence seemed very heavy, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell had happened in their heads to create such a thing in times like these. Then, a kid in the audience giggled, and it seemed to relax everyone; laughter burst and some were already shaking their wallet. Ginny was applauding and shaking her head. The twins’ smiles widened and they got off of the platform to reach out to their customers. 

It was fun indeed, but I couldn’t help but wonder if they truly measured the impact of what they had just done. 

_ _ _ 

“U-no-poo Fred? Really?”

Fred giggled as if I had just told him a very good joke he had never heard before. 

“You have to admit that’s pretty clever!”

“That’s not clever, that’s stupid and not fun at all and- and that’s dangerous Fred!”

His gaze softened, but he didn’t let go of that cocky smirk. 

“Y/N, would you happen to be worried?”

“No, I was just thinking your instinct for survival was better than that.” My averted eyes didn’t mislead anyone though. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for this Fred, that’s all.”

“I won’t, don’t worry.” He hesitated for a second, and our eyes fell on the hand he had lifted and stopped above my shoulder. I didn’t say anything and he squeezed it gently. “These laughter earlier, that’s why we’re taking the risk. You have your way to fight the darkness, I have mine, that’s all.” I didn’t find anything to reply to that. “You know, I didn’t think you would come tonight, even Ginny was doubtful. And given the look on your face when I told you about it I thought you would refuse, really.” Fred paused and his fingers clenched lightly against my shoulder once more. “Why did you decide otherwise?”

That was a good question. Why? I had spent the last few days trying to figure out why the first answer in my head had been immediate and positive, why my heart had first beaten like crazy at the thought of seeing Fred again instead of aching as it used to, why I couldn’t hate him as much as I thought I did, as much as I thought I had to. Suddenly, some customer’s shoulder collided with my back with enough strength to make me lose my balance. The position we ended up in felt natural, as if Fred’s torso had always been there for me to rest my head on it and his hands were meant to be on my back. 

“I had missed this.” I murmured, and I felt his agreement through the vibrating of his body. 

I timidly encircled him with my own arms, and the feeling was so unhoped for, I had craved it for so long, that I found myself unable to move away from him. The more time passed by and the tighter our embrace was until it became almost difficult to breathe. 

“Maybe I should…” muttered Fred before loosening his hold, but without letting go of me. “Never again,” he added with a smile, and it didn’t take long for me to realize what it meant. “I’m not leaving you again.”

And as cliché as it could sound, I read the truth in his eyes. The pain, the regrets, the way he had been hating himself everyday for what he had done, but also comprehension because he knew I had been feeling the same. The Weasley sparkle was here too, bright and vivid and loving, and his smile was wider than every smile I had ever seen. I was probably looking the same, and if I wasn’t, I was definitely experiencing this euphoria that was shaking every cell of my body and making my heart beat so fast. 

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Fred’s voice was low, but it was the only thing I heard.

“Do it then.”

“Let me finish darling. I want to kiss you so bad, but I don’t deserve it, not after what I did to you. Give me some time to earn it, okay? We’ll make it work again, I’ll make it work again.”

I nodded, torn by two completely opposite emotions. I was grateful because Fred wanted us to become a loving couple again, and disappointed because I needed him, so much that it hurt. But after all this time, it wouldn’t have felt right, and after all maybe it was for the best. Suddenly, I became aware again of the noise in the shop: dozens of customers were still talking happily about their purchase and congratulating George.

“I should go back home. It’s… It’s a lot to take in.”

“I know, don’t worry.” Fred smiled and kissed my hair. I gave him my back and took barely two steps toward the door before he grabbed my hand. “Wait Y/N, I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home. It’s dangerous outside and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“You shouldn’t leave your little party, Freddie. Don’t worry for me, I’ll apparate as soon as I can, okay?”

“You have the galleon, right?”

“Yes Fred, I have it, and yes I’ll warn you when I’m home.” 

He nodded and let go of my hand. I sneaked through the crowd of customers and reached the door. I was on the verge of opening it when Fred’s voice echoed. 

“Are you going to leave without a U-no-poo Y/N?”

“Who told you I needed one?”

Fred chuckled, and I only looked away when the door closed. The alley was still somber, and the same dying feeling was floating in the air, but my heart was lighter than it had been in months. I was so happy that nothing could have tarnished my joy, or so I thought. 

It’s my training as a new Order member that kicked in and made me dodge the first curse. As the only remaining window of Ollivander’s shop exploded, two dark silhouettes made their appearance between the twins’ shop and I, making it impossible for me to reach any safe place on this side of the alley. What I feared was confirmed when at least two other death eaters’ feet hit the paving stones. 

All of this had happened in a second, and I reached for the magical galleon in my pocket before anything else. An instant later, I was forced to dive to the ground with my hand still stuck in my jeans. I got up quickly and drew my wand. It was too late. Something burnt my back with such intensity that the heat spread to the core of my body. Through the excruciating pain, my dizzy brain noticed that there wasn’t a sound that left my mouth, and soon my knees hit the ground. My arms refused to obey and I found myself falling forward without anything to shield my head. The shock was brutal as the rest of the scene. The death eaters left without anything else, word or curse, and soon the noise made by their footsteps disappeared. It felt like an eternity before someone else arrived whereas it had probably been less than two minutes. Time definitely seemed to stop when I realized it was Fred. 

“Y/N, what’s- oh god, Y/N, can you hear me? Please tell me you’re still with me… Y/N!”

His arms slipped underneath my limp body. Even the heat he gave me as he was hugging me against his torso wasn’t enough to dissipate the icy cold in my bones. He was calling for help, desperate to be heard as it seemed like we were both glued to the paving stones. 

“Please Y/N, tell me- tell me I’m dreaming. This- This is all in my head, it’s all happening in my head...  Right? Y/N, say something, please!” I wished I could have reassured him, but my strength was leaving me. “I still have to gain back your love, Y/N you can’t leave me… You can’t…” 

Fred was almost sobbing now, shouting to whatever cruel god was watching him that he couldn’t live without me, screaming pleas and crying at this unfairness. His arms were still holding me, and even this feeling was slowly vanishing; soon, I wondered if I had ever felt it and the only answer I could get was the aching in my body that had nothing to do with the curse. 

Death wasn’t that bad, after all, less painful than life, and I wished Fred could read it in my mind.

[damnedparker]

fugitives

pairing: alex law x reader (gender neutral; no y/n)

warnings: food mention, swearing, Extremely Soft alex, cliche flower date, literally all fluff because thats my brand i guess

summary: alex law is a lot of things, but he most definitely is not a shitty boyfriend.

3k words alex lawies! what! i dont even know what this is. soppy romantic stuff. i love this stupid criminal man too much and no one can stop me. all i can write is fluff. everyday i wake up and choose yearning

You almost groaned as you were brought out of a vague sort of sleep for the third time that night, your boyfriend going through another bout of shifting around for the thousandth time. Alex had always had on and off issues with falling asleep, what he attributed to having a brain that just never stopped or slowed down enough to relax unless he was completely exhausted. You understood what he meant, you only wished you could do something to help. You had tried getting him to read, or relaxing to music before sleep, but neither seemed to help much for him.

As he shifted around again, tangling and untangling his legs with yours multiple times before tossing his head to the side in frustration, you scooted away from your usual place tucked into his side. You had hopes that giving him space without you being half on top of him might help him find a comfortable enough position to fall asleep. Soon, you began to doze off again, your body tuning out his tossing and turning just enough before you were woken up by him whispering your name when he stilled. You replied in a sleepy hum, not quite coherent enough to form any words at the moment.

“Are you mad at me?” You blinked your eyes open at that, confused.

“No, Alex, why d’you think that?”

“You moved away from me.”

“I thought maybe you would be more comfortable that way is all.” You yawned, closing your eyes again.

“I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.” There was a beat of silence, and you thought he had tried to fall asleep again before he reached out for you and pulled you back into his arms, his front pressed tightly against your back. You smiled at the return of his warmth, much preferring to sleep with him holding you or vice versa. More moments of quiet passed, and you began to get sleepy again. But once more, Alex’s voice brought you back to the waking world.

“When’s the last time we went on a date?”

“What?” You mumbled, not sure if you heard him right.

“I don’t know when the last time we went out together was.” He shifted against you again to push his legs between yours, his cold feet settling against your calves. You easily fought the urge to shiver, used to his icy palms and feet pressing against your skin or warmth during the night.

“We went out to the pub just last week.” You replied, becoming fully awake now. A frustrated puff of air from Alex met the back of your neck.

“I’d hardly call me getting shitfaced-drunk a proper date, love.” His fingers began to nervously play with the hem of your shirt as he spoke, a telling tick that Alex always smoothed over with brazen or loud words, pushing down the fact that he was distressed. You covered his hand with yours and pressed it to your tummy to still his movements, now exposed from all the shifting around the both of you had done.

“I don’t need a proper date, or whatever that even means, Alex. I just like being around you.” It sounded incredibly corny, sure, but it was true. You’d much rather get plastered or stay home watching movies with your boyfriend, than have to go through the motions at some overpriced restaurant only to come home and do the very same thing you would rather be doing in the first place.

You turned around in his arms, changing positions so that your head rested on his chest, your arms hugging his middle. He began playing with your hair quietly, not saying anything after your last statement. He had seemed to relax a little at your reassurance, but you could feel the insecurity lingering in his movements and the silence that followed without some kind of acceptance or witty comment.

This time it was you who broke the quiet.

“What’s got you thinking about this in the middle of the night?”

“A few days ago, when we were hanging around on the couch, David said some fuckin’ thing about us never going out on a date, and me being a shitty boyfriend. I don’t know why I keep thinking about it.” He mumbled bitterly, upset with himself for letting this get to him. You scooted up slightly, so your face was level with his, reaching out to brush the hair out of his face, which was quite the sight from all the tossing and turning in bed.

“Well, David’s a twat,” you murmured next to his ear, causing a small grin to break out on Alex’s face. He turned to look at you, dark circles present under his icy, soft eyes, his smile unfading. You had to actively stop yourself from bursting out with an I love you, not wanting to make the moment too serious, and you weren’t sure that Alex was the type to say it. You were also a little nervous to tell him, and mostly just hoped that somehow, he knew how much you cared for him. And, of course, you hoped he felt the same. “You are anything but a shitty boyfriend, my Alex. You’re my favorite person.” He closed his eyes and leaned into your palm, now resting against his cheek. A quiet sigh of contentment left his lips, and you closed the small gap between your faces to give him a long kiss.

“Let’s go somewhere tomorrow, get away from this stupid flat for a bit.” He pressed his cheek to yours, breath tickling your ear as he murmured softly to you. Tingles spread down your spine at the intimacy, and your hand found its way under his t-shirt, soft with wear, running up his back to feel his skin.

“Where to?” You raised an eyebrow. He sat up slightly to rest his cheek on his hand as he looked down at you, pretending to think hard before answering. Your heart fluttered when his other hand found yours, gently squeezing.

“Wherever you want.”

“Well, then I’d like to stay home.” Alex sighed dramatically and hung his head in lighthearted annoyance. The smile that had overtaken your lips since he’d woken you was incapable of leaving your face as you reached out to run your fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. He peeked up at you with one eye.

“You’re so difficult, you know that?”

“I do it just to make you mad.” The smile on your face was wiped off briefly as you squeaked in surprise when Alex leapt up from his position, trying to pin you to the bed. Laughter rung out far too loudly from your lungs in the middle of the night as you scrambled to escape his hold, albeit not very successfully. Just as you had one foot on the floor to leave the bed, Alex grabbed your other ankle, and the movement of you pulling away resulted in you crashing onto the wood floor, with Alex following, landing on top of you with an almost comical oof. You groaned under him, a bit of pain coming from his weight, as well as the contact your body had made with the hard floor. There was barely a moment to register said pain, as the two of you wrestled on the floor for a bit, somehow bringing the blankets with you across the room within the struggle. You eventually yielded to your boyfriend, far too out of breath from laughter and effort to fight any longer, and also knowing you were making too much noise.

“I win.”

“Yeah, I think that happens when you give the other person a concussion.” You sarcastically replied, wincing when you tried to sit up. Alex’s eyebrows drew up in concern, but you stopped him. “I’m just kidding, Alex. But that fall did kinda hurt. You’re fucking heavy.”

“It’s all my muscles.” He grinned, letting you go to lay next to you. You pinched his bicep as he moved over.

“Yeah, these chicken arms are so strong.” You teased, and he scoffed again in feigned offence.

“You know, I’ll remember that the next time you’re drunk and you don’t want to walk home from the pub,” He pointed a finger at you, which your response was point your own at him. Except, you know, the middle one. “Ohh, you’re so sweet, darling.” He cooed. You rolled over to straddle his waist, taking his position from earlier. Alex rested his hands on your thighs, gently rubbing circles into them with his thumbs. It was a curiosity how this man didn’t get whatever he wanted when he was capable of looking at you the way he did. “Please can we go somewhere tomorrow?”

“Okay,” you finally agreed, and he sat up in excitement, making you slide down to his lap. You rested your hands on his shoulders. “Somewhere fun though. Not a fancy restaurant.”

“What about a… lower grade restaurant?”

“Alex…” He responded to your small whine with your own name in the same tone, tilting his head with the cutest puppy dog eyes in the world.

“I don’t like restaurants either, but we can get the food to go. I’ll take you to that park you like, with the botanical gardens,” he pouted. “Come on, I’ll pick you a flower or some romantic crap like that.”

“I don’t think those flowers are meant for picking, sweetheart,” His only response was a mischievous grin. You should have known better than to even try to say anything opposing his plans. You weren’t ever going to really say no in the first place; why would you reject any amount of time spent with your boyfriend? Especially when he was being uncharacteristically romantic, or at least romantic in his own way. “I suppose we can go.”

“Good,” His smile turned soft. “Now I really won’t be able to sleep.”

--

The next day, Alex burst into your apartment after you had gotten home from work. Literally right after. You had barely taken off your shoes.

“Sometimes I regret giving you a key to my flat.” Your hands gripped at the sofa you were leaning on, recovering from the minor heart attack he had given you from his sudden appearance.

“Why? I thought you liked me.” He teased, grabbing onto your waist from the side. Your eyes softened as you took in his appearance, dressed in your favorite combination of the approximately six options in clothes he had; a green sweatshirt, denim jacket, topped by his leather jacket.

“I like you very much, Alex.” your voice was almost dreamy as you said it, locking eyes with him for a moment too long. Your boyfriend shifted a little, seeming to get nervous and glancing down before he spoke.

“We best get going soon, huh?” The sudden change of subject made you swallow hard, worried you’d ruined something at his now fidgety state. You nodded and mumbled something about changing before rushing off to your room. That was weird, and the sudden shift in mood from Alex meant something was either wrong, or you had made him uncomfortable somehow. Great. Not like that won’t haunt you the rest of the night. Totally.

As soon as you emerged from your room, clothes changed and forcibly pushing down what had happened a moment ago, Alex seemed back to his regular, excited self, throwing you a grin that encouraged you to file the moment ago in the back of your mind. Along with how clammy his palm felt when he slid his fingers between yours. Maybe he was still anxious in relation to everything he said last night.

There was only a brief separation of touch as you both slid into the Mini Cooper. Key into ignition, gear shift in reverse; Alex threw his arm over the back of your seat as he backed out of the parking lot, stopping briefly with his foot on the brake to press a kiss to your cheek before switching gears and heading out onto the road. His hand soon landed in its regular affectionate spot on your thigh as he drove, turning up his favorite album so the two of you could sing along, your off-key screaming going in and out as you got swept up in random conversations. When it was warm enough, Alex would roll all the windows down, and you’d cruise forever until you end up parked in the shadows somewhere to make out like teenagers. It was torturous how much you loved him; how happy he made you feel. You hoped you made him feel the same way.

The oh-so romantic meal for the night were greasy chips to share, probably detrimental for your intestines later, and sandwiches from the place you both frequented often, as it was almost the exact middle distance between your flats. As per tradition, the two of you ate on the bench outside, as the weather was a little chilly as dusk approached, but not cold enough yet to scare you off. The two of you talked about the usual as you ate, jumping from topic to topic with the ease of trapeze artists, supporting each other with interest as you went. Alex was smiling far more than usual, especially when the two of you were talking about work of all things, and the way his eyes followed your every movement squeezed your heart just the same as his hugs did after a few days apart. Whatever was on his mind was clearly tinging his behavior, and you definitely could tell, with the other signals from other, something was up with him. You just didn’t know what.

What followed your dinner was another car ride, as the gardens you loved were too far of a walking distance. And although it wasn’t a long distance when driving, you were still anxious to get out as soon as you got there, throwing open the door mere seconds after Alex parked the car.

The gardens were fairly empty, but not totally so; a few people roamed about here and there, but they were mostly adults. Alex trailed close behind you as you began to explore, surveying all the new plants that had been added since the last time you’d been able to visit.

“I should’ve brought a camera,” he mentions as you study a patch of dahlias, maroons and oranges beautiful in the soft light of the scattered lampposts around the gardens. “You’re so pretty.” The last comment was softer than his first, amplified by his sudden presence next to you, an arm slipping around your waist. You glanced over to meet his gaze, already stuck on you, tilting your head just so. Something was definitely going on with him. But knowing Alex, he wasn’t telling you for a reason, so it’d be best to just let him get to whatever it is on his own. In all honesty, his tone had struck you silent, and you didn’t know what to say. A kiss on his jaw replaced any words you could’ve forced out of your mouth.

The two of you stuck to the other’s sides as you continued to stroll through the gardens, conversing about both the flowers and whatever tangential topic struck your thoughts.

Eventually, you ended up sitting on a bench next to your favorite flowers of the night, the honeysuckle. Something about them was drawing you towards them, and Alex had insisted you sit for a while and talk. His jacket had found its way to your shoulders a while ago, due to the slight shiver you had experienced a few times from a breeze that was a bit too strong, and your boyfriend immediately jumping on the idea that, god forbid, you were a bit too cold. He would never admit it, but sometimes he was very protective of your comfort level. It was sweet.

You were busy looking up at the stars which were growing brighter as the night wore on when Alex called your name softly. His hand slipped into yours again, beginning to play with your fingers like he always did when something was bothering him.

“You know,” he paused, looking down at his lap and seeming very interested in watching his thumb stroke and rub gently over your knuckles. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been the best boyfriend over the past year… I know I’m temperamental and annoying sometimes—”

“Alex,” you stopped him with a gentle smile. “Like I told you last night, you’re my favorite person. No conditions and no buts.” He still wouldn’t look at you, so you took the opportunity to brush his hair from his face to know you were listening attentively. “What is it?”

“I just—” He sighed, his shoulders readjusting as he sat up and finally turned his head to you. “I really love you.” His eyes were full of worry as he made his confession, and all you could do is squeeze his hand in reply with a soft, reassuring smile. “I’ve never really committed to someone before, so I’ve just been… really worried about telling you. I don’t know. I know you like me, every logical part of my brain shows me that. I know I would be devastated if you left. I just—I worry you don’t wanna be stuck with someone like me sometimes. Especially when my flatmates barely tolerate me. I don’t know how you manage to all the time.”

“It’s not something I have to think about, I just do,” you shrugged. Your brain was working on mostly auto-pilot at his words, the confession spreading warmth through your body like wildfire. “I love you, idiot. Of course I love you.” A grin spread across Alex’s face at your words, both in relief and in affection. Before you could add on to your statement, he rushed forward to smother you in an excited kiss, his hand slipping up to cradle your jaw. And then he repeated the motion, a few times over, a punctuation to his confession, and a release of worry.

“Fuck.” He murmured as he pulled away for the last time. You furrowed your eyebrows in question, as he tore his eyes away from you to lean over and pluck a honeysuckle flower from next to the bench.

“Alex, I wasn’t kidding when I said that’s not what those are for—"

“Be quiet, baby, I’m being romantic,” he shushed, tucking the flower gently above your ear. You couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped from you and caused you to tilt your head; just a bit too much, as the flower drifted into your lap. Alex let out another curse and carefully slipped it back to where it was, eyeing it like a disobedient dog. “I was gonna do that before I told you.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, it’s still cute now,” you pressed a kiss to his forehead before standing and tugged on the hand joined with yours. “Come on, let’s get out of here before the flower police arrest you for theft.”

“Please, they’d never catch us. I wouldn’t let them,” he scoffed, playing along. “Besides, we’re too cute to be prosecuted.”

[internalsealpanic]

The Dog and Duck

summary: Dick Grayson is a terrible flirt (in more ways than one).

a/n: Special thanks to @jd-loves-everyone, @littleredwing89, @glorified-red, and @multifandomgirl-us for proofreading! This fic is based on a headcanon by @pricetagofficial (I think) that Dick Grayson is actually terrible at flirting which is just the cutest thing.

warnings: Potential cringe and terrible flirting advice

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

The sound of voices and clinking of glasses mingle around you like a bustling symphony: discordant, rhythmic, clashing but endlessly vibrant. The scent of alcohol hung thick in the air, enough to taste and intoxicate. The amount of people in such a small space made something under your skin hum, whether it was simply an irritable Yasiri or the buzzing energy stored in your bones or maybe even a genuine discomfort, you weren’t entirely sure.

You sip lightly at the scotch in your glass, letting it burn through your throat, but it wasn’t enough to make the itch in it go away completely. 

 You watch Dick’s eyes intently as they slide past you, just over your shoulder. His sentences coalesce clumsily, syllables squishing and clipping at odd ends as his plush bottom lip catches between his teeth. His eyes are glossy with interest even in the dim lights of the pub. His pupils are blown and dark. You fight everything in you to stamp down the urge to huff or roll your eyes. Not that he would have noticed. You’re pretty sure you could stab someone in the eye and Dick wouldn’t even blink, not when he is so enraptured by whatever the hell is behind you. You feel a gross sticky sort of jealousy pool in the pit of your stomach.  You swallow it down not really knowing of any other way to deal with it. 

 You arch a brow, the tips of your nails tapping loudly against the lacquered wood of the table as Dick once again stumbles absentmindedly over his story about Wally West being living proof of the need for warning labels (for people). You click your teeth irritably while Yasiri’s tail rattles against your collarbone before you take another sip, eyes following his only for them to land on a vivacious redhead at the bar. The irritation bubbling in your veins dwindles into mild amusement. Your best friend is a hilariously predictable moron. 

 “She is either a suspect or you’re being a creep.” You tease, the cruel curve of your lips barely obscured by the glass pressed against them. The mockery in your eyes shining amber like the drink in your glass. Dick’s cheeks flush as the playful lilt in your voice lances through the fog in his mind. He looks at you, dopey and red-cheeked as if he didn’t know what you were talking about. You roll your eyes, nostrils flaring letting out a breath caught between a huff and a laugh. “Stalker.” You hiss, trying to smother the warmth in your voice with sheer, unadulterated pettiness. 

 Dick levels you a look, cutting and vicious if he wasn’t flushed. “Am not.” He whines halfheartedly, eyes flicking once again to the woman at the bar. Some part of you is sure you really ought to be mad at him. After all, you haven’t seen each other for almost half a year. This is thanks in part to work and in part to work getting royally fucked up. Thankfully, not because of Gotham’s resident furry and his new little bird boy. Really, you should be furious at being sidelined considering this outing was his idea but here you were smirking into your malt whiskey, tickled. 

 “Then stop staring.” You challenge, unfolding and relaxing into the moldy cushioning of the bar. Dick glares at you, the pout on his lips obscured by his hand as he rests his chin on his palm but you know it’s there. You’ve memorized the plains of his face and how they shaped themselves, a product of spending far too much time staring at the details.  Hey, if he was gonna third wheel you the least you could do was tease him about it. “Or do you want me to wingman for you~”

 “HELL NO”

 You can’t stop the cackle that spills from your lips. “Why not?!”

 “I’m not letting you cockblock me. AGAIN.”

 “That was one tiiime, Joystick.”

 “Once was enough!" 

 "’Fiiiine but to be fair,  you still ended up dating her, didn’t you?” You defended weakly, running your fingers through your hair, jostling the already wind whipped strands. Dick was red-faced. The liquor was definitely working through his system. The color in his cheeks was lively and cute, making him look boyish despite how much he’d grown. You had, in fact, cockblocked him due to an extreme bout of jealousy, childishness, and hormones. Back then you hadn’t yet learned the art of burying your feelings 6 feet under.

 “Fine, fine, fine. Just shoot your shot, Dickie bird.” This does not appease him. He, in fact, crosses his arms over his chest. You set your glass down and raise your brow. “If you fail, I’ll buy you a round.” You add placatingly. Dick’s eyes slide over your shoulder, the lump in his throat bobbing.“Make that two.” 

 Your eyes shine, cat-like the dim lighting of the lamp overhead. You smile at him all cocksure, placing your chin on your intertwined fingers.“Deal.”

 Dick gives you a withering look as he pushes off the table. You take a sip of your daiquiri as he moves through the crowd, gracefully slicing through the sea of bodies. No, maybe they were parting just for him. Dick does have that air about him. A pull that made it so painfully obvious that he was so much more. Dick also had this way of talking that made you unsure of whether you’re being flirted with or if it’s just the way he talks to people. Either way, he had this way of making you feel special and you had no doubt he would sweep this one off her feet.  

 The redhead at the bar tipped her head finally sensing his gaze on her and as per your expectation, she seemed to reciprocate the interest. Not that you can blame her. Dick was a 10 on his worst day. Now that you thought about it, you’ve never actually seen Dick flirt. You’ve seen him banter but flirt? You can’t seem to think of an instance of it. This’ll be fun. 

 You watch him closely and your brows climb higher than you thought they could. Something was off, something very un-Dick-like. There’s an unsteadiness in his step that makes your stomach sink. Dick wouldn’t. Even Dick wasn’t stupid enough to blow his shot just to get a few shots, would he?

 And then it happened.

 “Did it hurt when you hit your face?” Dick asks, winking stiffly. A ripple of pain lances through you followed by an unbearable wave of second-hand embarrassment. “Excuse me?!” Her face morphs into something terrifying before Dick’s brain can catch up. You watch in mute horror as Dick’s face slowly matches the sinking feeling in your gut as embarrassment suffused his entire body. 

 “Wait, shit. I- I meant- Shit. I didn’t mean to say you look like you banged your face. I mean, of course, you don’t-” You watch in fascination as Dick stumbles through apology after apology after apology. Until finally, he gives up. “Actually, I’ll just leave.” Dick shambles gracelessly back to your table while your brain tries to process what just happened. 

 You wheeze against the table, pounding your fist against the table. “Dickie, yanno you did have a shot before you opened your mouth, right?” Your hand is clamped over your mouth trying to stop the shrill cackle bubbling in your throat. 

 “Y/n...” 

 “Jeez, Dicktopus, was gin really worth getting blue balled?”

 “You better have your money,” he sneers, cutting you a scathing look as he slides into the booth. 

 “I-” The smug look on your face vanishes when you reach into your wallet. “If I apologize for you, will you cut me some slack?” you try, brandishing your nearly empty wallet. 

 “I’ll buy you a shot if she doesn’t tell you to fuck off.”

 “Hmm, if I get her number for you, will you get me two?”

 “Sure, why not?” Dick whines petulantly. His head sinks into his arms desperately trying very hard  to implode. You cough into your sleeve trying not to laugh and hope he doesn’t notice. A blush creeps up the tanned skin of his neck. He tries to hide it by placing his hand on his neck but the color’s already made its way to his ears. Feeling a little bad for him, you squeeze Dick’s shoulder once, then twice, then twice once more. You swing your legs dramatically out of the booth. You hear Dick groan and you chuckle. 

 You flick your eyes to him one last time before moving forward. You roll your shoulders, realigning your form into something more suave and less goofy. The rhythm of your feet goes from a clumsy shuffle to a confident saunter. The woman looks at you skeptically, her lashes fluttering mockingly. You move, easy and casual. With a playful grin, you apologize and make up some bullshit excuse about Dick being extremely shy. She eases. You continue on your little sales pitch as if it was the most natural thing in the world.  You draw a laugh out of her. You can hear her heart pick up. She smiles at you telling you that you and your shy friend are fine. You chuckle and promise to tell your long-suffering friend that, tilting your chin towards Dick who is still trying to melt into the table. She scribbles her number onto a napkin and hands it to you with a flirtatious wink. You smile lopsided, cute and sheepish, as you wave her goodbye.

 Dick stares at you with slack-jawed awe. This time you feel genuinely bashful but you shrug it away with a sharklike grin spreading across your face.

“Pay up, pretty bird,” you say slamming the number on the table, teeth gleaming in the low light of the room. The petty satisfaction oozing off of you is almost palpable. Dick looks up at you, his pretty mouth twisting.  “What are you? Seven?”

 “If by seven you mean lucky, then yeah,” you sneer, nudging your empty shot glass against Dick’s shoulder. “Pay up, Dickenson~” you sing. Dick’s face twists even more and he waves you off, pushing off the table.

 “Let’s just go,” Dick bites out, cheeks burning. You bite your lips trying to resist the urge to tease him more but it’s hard. Not when he’s all pouty and cute.  

 “I mean you did just wine and dine me,” you laugh musically. You promised yourself you would stop teasing him but you never said you would stop making jokes. There’s a complicated expression on Dick’s face before it shifts back to exasperation. 

 “You. Are. Awful.”

 You shake your head not even denying it as you follow him out of the old Dog and Duck into the fresh Bludhaven air. 

“How are you good at this?” Dick whines into one of your throw pillows. The poorly counterfeit superman one he had gotten you a few years ago from a trip to the Philippines. He's pouting at you like a kid. To be fair, you did laugh at him in the club (and the whole way back to your safehouse which was not a short walk).

 You chuckle, tapping a cool can of beer against his forehead.“Sadly some of us need to work at being charming, Dimples McGee.” He accepts the can, scowling at you. Your grin doesn’t waver which only serves to deepen his scowl. It was an irritating feedback loop. Well, irritating for Dick. You’re having the time of your life. You settle on the other side of the couch rolling your beer can in your hand. “ Plus, you’ve seen pops talk right? The man sweet talks like his life depends on it.” 

 “Right, I’ll remember to ask him for flirting advice next time he tries to kill me,” Dick says, rolling his eyes at you. You perk up at the awful idea before you snicker and press a hand to your lips in a barely held back smile. It’s Dick’s turn to perk up. His blue eyes shine with interest at your expression like he’s trying to capture it. You turn to him with a serious expression. “Please, please ask him that. I will pay you to record his reaction. Please. Please. Dickle, please,” you beg, moving on your knees to his side, your hands clasped in prayer.  Dick shifts sticking his tongue out at you childishly. 

 “Noooooo!”

 “Pleeeeeeaaaaaseee”

 “No!”

 With an ‘oof’, you plop yourself between Dick’s legs, your chest against his. You stare up at him with eyes mimicking the wide-eyed innocent look he uses on you when he asks for a favor. Dick gives you a sorry look asking you to please drop it. You don’t. You double down trying to look as cute as possible. 

 Dick looks down at you, glaring then grimacing then smiling. “Ok, fine,” he huffs stiffly, wrapping his arms around you. You snuggle up against him, smug in your victory.  Your nose brushes against Dick’s pulse which makes his breath hitch. He squirms under you but you just find yourself laughing. “You. Are. Evil. ”

 “I promise to make your Granny’s goulash,” you say in a halfhearted attempt to appease him. Dick’s face softens  “Now, that’s just bribery.”

 “You’re gonna be a cop here in Bludhaven. You gotta learn how to take bribes.”

 His brows crease as you shake your head. Dick huffs, planting his chin against the crown of your head before pressing his lips to your hair. You feel one of his arms pulling you closer, his hand threading through the tangle of your hair. You smile against his skin, breath tickling him which just makes him squirm. He’s breathless under your touch and you don’t even know it. You two sit basking in the close proximity and the soft intimacy you two shared. Your limbs tangle and twine around each other carelessly. 

 Out of context, you two could have been lovers. 

 You sigh, feeling a bit drowsy from the ‘tussle’. You blink, mind reaching for something. “Wait…. Brucie flirts like his life depends on it too! What’s your excuse?” you grin, jabbing a finger into his chest. Dick scowls at you, clearly flustered again. He stammers, babbling out answers. “Hey, I- I could probably do it...” Dick mutters, finally finding a semblance of coherence. 

  “After that performance?” You challenge, sitting up, eyebrow raised and arms crossed. A sharp laugh spills from your lips. It’s louder than you intended, your entire chest moving along with every exhalation of air. 

 Dick looks at you like a kicked puppy which has you roaring with laughter. “You don’t have to laugh that hard”

 “Admit it, Grayson, you are an actual bonafide dork”

 “I’ll bonafide you,” he growls and you’re bent into the couch cushions, clutching your stomach. Dick looks like your house plant like he’s about to disintegrate. You sit up again and cross your legs. Your lungs expand as you draw in another calming breath before you give him a softer, lopsided smile, placing a hand on his knee and shaking him gently. “Come on, practice on me I’m probably one of the few people you don’t have a stick up your ass around.” Dick, not getting up, puts his hands in his face looking positively mortified by the idea. You make a little affronted noise in the back of your throat and thanks to whatever god is up there that you don’t seem to know how much he doesn’t wanna fuck up flirting with you.   

 “I don’t know how to!” The cry is muffled but the mortification still bleeds through. The admission startles something out of you. “Holy shit, Nightwing can’t flirt his way out of a paper bag. Oh my god, this is great!” you cackle, falling into the cushions. 

 “I’m trying damn it!”

 “Ok. Ok. Ok.” You breathe. You’re still clutching your still aching stomach. You wish you recorded that confession.  “Ok. Phew. Ok, I need a minute,” you say folding over into the cushions again, another bubble of laughter rising in your throat. This is the best ab workout you’ve had in months. 

 “Take your time,” Dick deadpans, rolling his eyes, color rising in his tanned cheeks. 

 “Ooook, I think I’m good. First, we need to work on your wink.”

 “The hell is wrong with my wink?” A wry smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You make vague hand gestures, hoping somehow you could physically pluck the correct words from the air.  “Just try winking, Ric.” Dick raises his brow but gives in. He winks at you in his usual devilishly charming way. You shake your head. “Wink at me like you’re trying to get my number.”

He stiffens and gives you the most artificial wink you’ve seen outside of a bad 50s flick. You drag your hand over your face. “How come you can wink so naturally while fighting and look like you work at in car sales when you flirt”

 Dick tries again. He ends up closing both his eyes and scrunching his nose- looking like a disgruntled puppy. You squeal and Dick’s eyes fly open. Your mouth works to flatten itself but your mind is still picturing the expression. “What?” he growls. You wave him off. “Sorry. Sorry. Just- just try again. Please.” 

 Dick gives you another stiff wink and you’re surprised to find yourself cringing at your best friend for the first time in your life. You drag your hand over your face. “You look like you’re trying to ask me to prom.”

 “You’ve never even been to a prom!”

 “Who do you think scares off Joey’s dates? Pops?” you snort picking up your beer can and taking a sip.  “Did you miss the absentee father part?”

 You both silently agree to move on. 

 “How the flying fuck did you date both Babs and Kory with your atrocious flirting skills?”

 “I have good pick up lines.”

 “Uh, sure, buddy.”

 “It worked on both of them!”

 “Well, hit me.”

 “Call me Fred Flintstone,”  you wait patiently, “cause I’ll make your bedrock.” Another artificial wink. 

 You blink at him, mind still trying to catch up. “Dick you are the epitome of ‘you’re lucky you’re cute’,” you groan, palm flat against your forehead. 

 “I’m not cute! I’m handsome!” Dick protests, mouth twisting into a pout. A shrill squeal is dying in the back of your throat as you draw a breath. You pinch his cheeks, “you pouting just furthers my point.”

 “Are you just trying to destroy my confidence?” Dick whines, lightly shoving you away. 

 “Oh no, the girl back at the club did that. I am just dancing on your grave.”

 “Give me another wink.”

 Dick fails at winking, again. You cringe openly at him and he scowls at you halfheartedly, more defeated than angry. Dick’s used to being good at things, you supposed. You tap your finger against your chin, trying to unspool a thought and rethread it into words. “Ok, figured out one of your problems.”

“Aside from my terminal dorkiness?”

 “You’re too nervous-”

 “You would be too,” Dick cuts in. 

You snicker, teeth bared in a mocking grin. ”Did you miss the part where I got her number?” Dick refuses to answer. You sigh but you can’t keep the smile off your face. “Let’s start with body language because for a guy with so much muscle control you are shit at this.”

 “You’re just gonna keep being mean,” he moans. 

 “I’ll stop being mean when you sweep me off my feet,” you jab. 

 “Ok, fine, maestro. What do you need me to do?”

  “You’ve got to lean into me and smile coyly,” you say vaguely.  Dick leans in close, your noses touching, his lips ghosting over yours. You can feel his breath hot against your lips. It sends bolts of electricity careening through your nerves. Your brain takes its sweet time catching up, giving your body ample time to soak up the proximity of the almost kiss. You gasp then reign yourself in. “Dickle, that’s- that’s a teensy bit too close,” you laugh awkwardly, hands playfully shoving at his chest. 

 Dick shakes out of his haze. “You said to lean in!” he says leaning into your space again. “Yeah, I did but I never said lean in close enough to eat my face. I can smell the gin in your breath,” you snort airly, pushing at his chest again. 

 Dick sits back, embarrassment creeping into his features. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth as if he’s thinking carefully about his next few words. “I’m just-” Dick puts his head in his hands. “Like you said, I’m too nervous.” 

 You raise a brow. The sound that comes out of you is too sharp and disbelieving to be a laugh. “Pfffft, it’s just me, you dork.”

 That’s the problem, Dick thinks. It’s you. The exasperation bleeds into his features. Dick fidgets, shifting and shaking in his seat like a wet chihuahua. Don’t you know how much he wants to get this right for you?. 

 “Stop twitching! You look like you’re having a seizure.”

 “I’m nervous!!” he says. “Don’t you ever get nervous about a person you like?”

 You side eye him. “I do,” you admit, rubbing your thumb over your tattoo out of habit. Dick’s eyes widen, then narrow. You see the word ‘who’ forming on his lips but his train of thought is cut off by the sound of Yasiri’s tail rattling against your skin as she emerges. Your poor danger noodle is likely frustrated with the lack of progress. You quietly thank her by scratching her chin.  “Whatever made this world just decided that you had to have at least one very obvious flaw,” you say, insincerely patting him on the back.

 “You're enjoying this.”

 “Way more than you think,” you say grinning at him. Dick simply grimaces at you. “You’re not helping me.”

 “Were you really expecting me to help?” You shrug. “Why would I do that?”

 “I’d help you!”

 You level him with a flat look. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d laugh just as hard as I did.” Dick opens his mouth then closes it. He opens it again. You raise your brow at him. “ I- ok yeah. No, I would laugh harder,” he says, giving you a cheeky, lopsided smile. Vindication and something warmer tug your features into a smile.

 “Just… relax and be yourself,” you mock sagely. Dick rests his head on yours. “ I hate you,” he groans, pressing his shoulder into yours. 

  “You’re just thinking about it too much,” you say, pressing back, “just do what’s natural. The more you over try the funnier it is.”

 “Goes back to my problem of being nervous,” he huffs into your hair. You boop his nose. “Goes back to my point about you overthinking things.”

 “I’m not!”

 “Fine.”

 “Fine?”

 “Fine,” you say, reaching back and presenting your danger noodle in your palm, "practice on Yazzy.”

 “You’re not serious?”

 You hold up the clearly unamused snake eye level with Dick. “Go on." Dick gives you a withering look. He exasperates, then looks deep into Yasiri’s black eyes. He opens his mouth and Yasiri flicks her tongue at him. The next few things happen in quick succession. Dick’s body relaxes. His face breaks into a smile that makes your heart flutter. He lets out a bubble of laughter that has you jumping and reaching for your own breath. "I can't!" he gasps. You both dissolve into laughter. 

 “Suit yourself - but prepare to have blue balls," you grin, punching his shoulder, "at least, they'll match your new suit!" you cackle. Dick flushes red.“I - I - you are legally the worst and most unhelpful human being in modern history!”

 Your cackle rises higher even as Dick shoves a pillow in your face. You push it away and wipe the tears away from your eyes. “Just practice on me, go on,” you say, reaching out, “once more." He frowns at you. "Please?”

 Dick closes his eyes. His movements become leisurely the way you've seen him when he's about to do a routine on the trapeze. “Do you have a map?” he says, pushing a strand of hair out of your eyes. The oxygen in your lungs evaporates. Heat spreads from the line of skin Dick’s finger grazed to the rest of your body. You swallow trying not to collapse under the weight of his gaze. You realize he's expecting an answer. "No, why?” you stammer out stupidly. 

  “Because I keep getting lost in your eyes,” he says, eyes glittering in the dim lights of your apartment. Some part of your brain short circuits, fizzing out in sparks and fire, then the rest of your brain follows. The entire structure goes out in a puff of smoke. You're completely frozen. Dick watches you with a furrowed brow, bottom lip caught between your teeth. Apprehension rolls off of him in waves and you can feel your lungs work again. "Exactly! Exactly that!" You squeal in delight. Dick smiles relieved. "I knew you could do it, you magnificent dork. I could kiss you right now!" you say squishing his cheeks and pressing your forehead against his. Dick’s breath catches. There's a hopeful look in his eyes. "Would you?" 

 Something clogs your throat as you pull away. You're pretty sure it's your heart. You force the nervous laughter in your throat into something else. "Need practice with that too, Dickens?" 

 "Dunno," he hedges, eyes holding yours, "you tell me." His hand cups the side of your face. You ease into his touch like a marshmallow dissolving into hot cocoa. "Can I?" he whispers, thumb brushing against your bottom lip. He's being careful with you you realize. Your eyes flutter closed. You can feel your nerves disentangling. They cross and recross so that you're fully aware of your lips. The gap between the two of you is small but it feels so impossibly big. Anticipation, anxiety, and excitement all thicken the spaces between you. You want him. You want this. Is it so wrong? 

 "Yes."

Tag list:  @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell   @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

[nanasparadise]

“Paradise lost” Yan!Bruno x female reader

Hiya everyone! This is my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoy it 🥺

Summary: You live a pleasant and regular life as a curator in Naples, until a certain over-protective Capo turns it upside down...

TW: alcohol, drugs, stalking, cursing, noncon touching, mentions of violence and death, toxic relationship, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

I do not condone any type of yandere behaviour in real life.

You were living in a paradise. Your paradise. After having moved to Italy, you were finally able to lead the life of your dreams. The city of Naples with its gentle sea breeze, the vivid streets and the ancient architecture just felt right to you. Not to mention the people; you've met some of the most supporting individuals. Your friends helped you integrate in Italy and gave you some Italian classes in order to improve your, admittedly, quite basic Italian skills. Your job as a curator in an art museum fulfilled your passion. Your small, but very cozy flat felt as if it was sculpted for you. Even after having spent nearly a year in the city, you never regretted your decision to move there. That was until you met a certain peculiar man, who would change your whole life forever.

You spent the night at the bar with Analisa and Federico, your two closest friends. The trio consisting of you were a bit tipsy, because of one too many drinks. The intoxication offered you lots of fun though, as you were constantly laughing at the slightest things. At 4 a.m., you were finally shooed out of the pub by the annoyed owner. The three of you went outside of the bar. You inhaled gladly the cool night air, which put you a bit back to your senses. Your friends, on the other hand, remained tipsy while constantly gigglying and grinning. Analisa and Federico suggested to go back to their place, where they might continue enjoying the night with some pills. You smiled at them, but declined. Drugs weren't really up your alley. 

"Aww, come on Y/N!", Analisa pouted, "it will be fun!"

"No thanks, you guys. You know how I feel about drugs", you replied patiently. 

"Should we take you home, then?", Federico asked, forehead frowned in worries, "You know it can be dangerous out here all alone with the whole mafia." 

"I'll be fine, thank you. You should be more worried for the guys with my Krav Maga skills!", you joked, trying to ease your friend's concerns, “and by the way, you two better be careful with your pills!"

After having hugged them goodbye, you parted ways with your friends. The streets of Naples were mostly quiet. In the distance, you heard fainlty some music from a club. A few stray cats roamed in the shadows, watching you with their predatory eyes. Admitteldy, it made you feel a tad uncomfortable. "Stop it", you muttered to yourself, "Don't let a few cats play tricks on you." Still captured by the felines' gaze, you accidentally stumbled over the pavement. Before you could actually hit the floor, as you anticipated, a strong hand caught your upper arm and hindered the fall. You looked up to your saviour to thank them. It was a rather unusual man. He wore a unique white suit with black spoon-like dots on it and zippers and his black hair was cut in a bob. But what you noticed the most were his deep, ocean blue eyes, which stared back at you with concern. Even though he seemed rather strange, the man's whole atmosphere drew you in. As you kept contemplating him, a sudden thought crossed your mind. "Where did he come from so quickly? I didn't see anyone in the street", you pondered. The thought made you shiver slightly. Realising that you still shamelessly stared at the man, you decided to finally speak up. 

"Thank you for catching me, I guess I had one too many", you said humoursly to him, trying to relax the tense ambience. The handsome guy offered you a smile to your relief. 

"No need to thank me, signorina", he answered cheekily. Something about him calling you "Miss" didn't feel right to you. After all, you were a grown adult and not some teenage girl. 

"No really, thank you, I could have hurt me", you insisted politely. The man still held your arm. You were eyeing uncomfortably to it, hoping he would catch the hint. Luckily, he did so and retrieved his warm hand from your body. The man cleared awkwardly his throat and continued speaking.

"Are you alright though? It is dangerous to walk at night the streets in Naples, especially for a young lady." His worry for you was quite flattering, you admitted to yourself. 

"I am fine, thanks to you", you winked at him. You could swear his cheeks turned slightly pink, but because of the darkness, you couldn't be entirely sure. 

"May I accompany you home?", the man asked, "It would ease my mind if I knew you arrived home safely." You weren't sure how to react. Sure, he was beautiful, but did you really want a stranger to know where you lived? 

"Thank you for your kind offer, but my flat isn't far away, I will be there in a minute", you replied carefully. After all, Federico was right: there were many mafiosi in Naples, maybe he was one of them? Your suspicions towards him increased. The man seemed to feel your paranoia. He flashed you a reassuring smile that would have made every woman swoon over him. 

"I understand your suspiciousness fully,” he said smoothly, "but I do think it is not necessary in this case. If I wanted to cause you any harm, I'd have it done by now. After all, this is a quiet and dark street and no one would have witnessed anything." "Fair enough", you thought. He was right. He could have easily murdered you by now if he wanted to. And there was nothing harmful about letting him follow you, right? 

"Well, if you put it that way, then sure, I'd like that", you answered with a soft smile. You shouldn't have agreed. Oh Y/N, if only you knew, you would have went with your friends. Instead, you went home, the stranger remaining by your side. "By the way, I don't think I introduced myself. My name is Y/N." 

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N, I am Bruno."

Slowly, the two of you became friends. Bruno turned out to be a loyal and charming man. Being the ever so polite gentleman, you didn’t have a clue about the raven-haired man’s true intentions. Oh no, you were blissfully ignorant to his advances. In fact, he knew you before that fateful night. The capo - you didn’t actually know his real job as he kept smoothly tip-toeing around it - had been chasing an enemy Stand user in the art museum where you worked when his attentive gaze had fallen on your form. You had explained patiently to an elderly couple every little detail of the Veiled Christ statue. In that moment, Bruno hadn’t known why he had stopped just to stare at you. Maybe it was the way you had treated the couple with kindness, maybe the way your eyes had lit up with passion as you had talked about the subject that fascinated you. Bruno still wasn’t sure what exactly enchanted him when it came to you. All he was aware of was the fuzzy warmth in his stomach and his racing heartbeat whenever he glanced at you. And that he would never let go of that feeling. So, the young mafioso started following you from that day on. He wouldn’t necessarily call it stalking, he just wanted to make sure that you were alright. And look where it had led him to - if he hadn’t been there to watch over you, you would have hurt yourself, which Bruno couldn’t let happen, of course. He was convinced that you needed him in your life. The following months since the Italian man had been by your side, you were in total safety. 

But you also felt ultimately caged in. You were grateful for Bruno’s friendship, but it also smothered you. Every time you were trying to go out with your friends, he would ask about every tiny detail: where were you going, who did come with you, what were you doing and so on. Eventually, he’d always join you. 

“Cara,” he would say with pleading eyes, “I only want to protect you. The world is a dark place and Naples is its hell. I don’t want to witness how anyone takes advantage of your sweet innocence.”

“Somehow he always knows when I go out with them, too”, you wondered. If you didn’t know any better, you would think that the two of you were dating. Bruno did behave like an overly jealous and possessive boyfriend. Plus, he always acted super touchy and affectionate around you: a pet name here, an arm around your shoulders there. Every time you confronted him, he would laugh it off. “I guess I am bewitched by you, tesoro.” All of this made you feel uncomfortable. Still, you didn’t want to lose your friendship. So you kept quiet most of the time. 

Until one day, you talked to Analisa and told her about it. For once, you needed some other friend than Bruno to listen to you, someone who wouldn’t act like a partner around you. Luckily, you knew for a fact that he would be gone this evening due to his mysterious profession he never mentioned to you. So, you invited Analisa over to your flat to vent. The blue-haired woman listened attentively to your lamentations. The words just spilt out of your mouth until you realised you actually started crying. Analisa held you in her arms and tried to calm you down. “Hey, Y/N, it’s fine. he’s not around”, she kept repeating. Eventually, your sobs died slowly until you were left staring at Analisa puffy-eyed. “If I allow myself to share my piece of mind,” Analisa said angrily, “he is a pezzo di merda. Who does he think he is to behave like that? You’re not his girlfriend, and even if you were, he doesn’t have the right to treat you like you are his possession. You can do whatever the fuck you want.” Her furious words filtered through your brain. “She’s right”, you agreed silently. “And you know what else? I hate to see you down because of that asshole,”  Analisa continued, “But I’ve just got the perfect solution for that.” The blue-haired woman grinned as she took some small pills out of the pocket of her leather jacket. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

At first you weren’t sure about taking the hallucinogens, since you never took drugs before. But for once, just for once, you wanted to escape reality. When did your little paradise turn into hell? You thought, you valued your friendship with Bruno, but now, all you wanted to do was to run away from him. The drug slowly started to kick in as you felt your head spinning. The dizziness made you feel light, as if you were about to fly away any moment. Analisa started to giggle next to you, already high. Suddenly, you began seeing black dots around you, coming closer and closer. “Weren’t these the dots on Bruno’s suit?”, you thought anxiously. They were talking to you, calling you principessa, amore mio, stella mia and many more terms of endearment. The dots turned into hands, touching you everywhere. But you decided to not give in. Not this time. Instead, you transformed your fear into anger. You energetically pushed away all the hands until they scurried away. Your rage wasn’t quenched yet, though.Under the effect of the drug, your fury was amplified significally. You took your phone and called Bruno. You wanted to let your frustration out on him, not only on the creations of your mind of him. He picked up immediately after the first ringing. “Y/N?”, he asked, worry dripping from his voice, “Are you alright? You don’t call normally. Should I come to you? I can drop my work just-”

“Bruno,” you interrupted him abruptly, “stop it. STOP IT. I can’t take this shit anymore. You cling onto me like some lovesick puppy and I’m done. Who the fuck are you even? I hardly know your name and you behave as if we were married. Guess what, you’re not even my boyfriend.” It was quiet for an instant. At first, you thought he hung up, but then you heard a slight chuckle from the other end of the phone. “The fuck?”, you thought, “Did he now completely have lost his mind?” 

“Y/N, is that what it takes to call me? Being high?”, the Italian man replied. Another bitter laugh espaced his mouth. You weren’t sure if he knew about your current state, because of your atypical rage or simply because he seemed to know everything about you without you telling anything. “Another reason for him to leave me alone.” 

“I bet one of your lovely friends gave you a pill, didn’t they?”, Bruno continued, seemingly angry now, too, “You know how I feel about drugs, right?”

You didn’t answer, your fear suddenly coming back. The room around you started to spin more and more. 

“Right?”, Bruno growled again. 

“Y-yes”, you stuttered eventually. 

“Good. I assume you’re in your apartment. Stay there and don’t make anything stupid anymore. I’ll be there soon. Clearly, you need me even more than I thought you would.” With these words, Bruno hung up, leaving you even more confused and frightened. Your body started trembling terribly. You didn’ t know if it was because of the drug or your pitless fear. Analisa, coming back to senses again, realised your bad state and immediately rushed over to you. 

“Shit Y/N, what happened?”, she inquired, worry written in her eyes. You explained to her the situation as best as you could in your foggy condition. “Fuck, I should have never given you the drug,” Analisa replied remorsefully, “I take full responsibility. I’ll call the cops before that bastard arrives here, I don’t care if they find my drugs, we’ve gotta do-”. The woman was interrupted by a loud knock on your door. 

“Y/N?”, Bruno shouted, “I know you’re in there. Open the door please.” 

“What are we doing now?”, you cried desperately. You didn’t even know why you reacted that way. Bruno never gave you a serious reason to be scared of him, but now, after the phone call, your gut feeling told you to run away as fast as you could. 

“I’ll call them now”, Analisa replied hastily, looking for her phone. But it was too late. Bruno broke the door in, his stern gaze resting on you. “Since when was he so strong?” 

“Analisa,” the man said, not breaking eye contact with you for a single moment, “give me your phone and walk away.” 

“Are you mad?”, the blue-haired woman shouted furiously, “I’m not gonna leave Y/N alone with you after that.” 

“Give me your phone and walk away, now”, the man repeated gloomly. His eyes, normally a serene blue ocean, turned into a destructive storm. Bruno smashed his fist into the wall, leaving it with a gaping hole. “If you don’t leave immediately,” he growled, “your family will suffer great consequences. Your little sister Teresa? She will die in a tragic car accident. Your father Marco? He will die of liver failure for drinking too much. Or so will be the official reports.” You stared big-eyed at Bruno, your fear only increasing. There was no doubt now that he worked with the mafia. Analisa slowly walked past you, tears falling down her cheeks, as she softly said sorry to you. Her phone was resting on your couch. Once she was gone, you broke down completely. What was he going to do? Bruno stood now in front of you, dragging you ungently by your arm and monitoring you to your bedroom. Was he really going to…? 

“No, no, no, NO!” What first started with a whisper ended in a bloodcurdling scream. The Italian didn’t stop though, pushing you instead on your bed. He seemed to be tired of your behaviour. Bruno sighed deeply, finally speaking to you now. 

“Y/N, I’m not going to do such thing. I just want you to realise, that you behave recklessly and I can’t let you continue like this. I just want to protect you. Look at you, being high now.” He gestured elegantly at you with his slim hand. What was he talking about? Your hallucinations had stopped the minute Bruno knocked on your door. 

“I am not high anymore”, you simply replied. 

“Are you sure about that?”, the raven-haired man replied. His eyes began to glimmer darkly. Suddenly, you witnessed how your legs were zipped away. 

“What the fuck?”, you screamed desperately. What was happening? You were sure, that this wasn’t the effect of the drug, that Bruno somehow did this to your body. “What are you doing to my legs? I-I kn-o-ow that you a-are z-z-ziping them off of m-me”, you stuttered anxiously. 

“What do you mean? I can’t see such thing”, Bruno replied coolly. “As I said, you are hallucinating.” 

“I am not hallucinating, you are doing this to me! I know you do! Please, stop it. Stop it...”. Your pleads turned into ear-piercing sobs. Tears clouded your vision as you desperately tried to grasp for air. 

“Hush, cara.” Bruno was suddenly next to you on your bed, draping his arm over your shoulders and whispering in your ear. “This is all in your mind. You need to sleep now. Tomorrow, everything will be fine again. I will stay by your side and protect you.” His warm breath grazed your earshell. The man nuzzled your hair, admiring its smooth texture and lovely scent. “I will always be with you.”

Eventually, after all your crying, you did fall asleep in Bruno’s arms. The latter kept stroking your cheek, marveling your soft breathing and beautiful face. Of course he felt a tinge of guilt for having used Sticky Fingers on you. Your desperate cries as you called him for help still pained him. But you needed to learn your lesson. Bruno could tolerate a lot, but drugs weren’t on that list. He would give Analisa a quick visit to make sure she’ll never talk to you again. Or to anyone, for a matter of fact. You didn’t need such a bad influence. “Not my sweet Y/N”, he whispered in your locks. “From tomorrow on, you will live with me, where I can always protect you. Now, doesn’t that sound like paradise?”

[rhenuvee]

Skater Boy (Fred Weasley x reader) [AU]

Yeahhhhh this was in my drafts for a while so here you go.

------------------------------------------

It was a chilly Saturday morning when you and a couple of your friends decided to head out to get some fresh air. You were bundled up in layers as you walked through the crowd to get to your destination.

“Oh jeez, I’m never gonna make it.” you said rushing yourself. It seems that you were a tad late, and now you were panicking because you knew they’d scold you for it.

“I need to catch my breath-” Just as you slowed your steps to walk to a nearby wall, you felt your foot kick something. Your eyes widened as you saw the large object start to tip over. In a split second before it hit the ground, you extended your arm forward and caught it before it your fall. And then you looked up and saw him-

Fred Weasley. You definitely knew him, he was in a few of your classes. Not to mention the guy you’ve had a crush on for a little while. However, you had to admit you were a bit intimidated by him which is why you barely had the courage to speak with him.

You watched with your mouth slightly parted and your hand still holding onto the object as he turned his head towards you. He was wearing a denim jacket with a red checkered flannel and white t-shirt underneath. He wore dark washed pants, and a pair of casual shoes with laces. 

Suddenly you remembered why you were here, and not to stare, but because of what you almost knocked over. He glanced down at what you now know is a guitar in its case, and then back at you. You were sure you flushed red as a stop sign when a grin broke out on his face.

“Thanks for saving my guitar.” he said.

“Oh god, I-I’m so sorry.” you stuttered as you gestured to give it back to him. You were so embarrassed that he caught you- thank the lord he played it off as ‘saving.’

“No problem,” he said putting his hand on top of the instrument. “Be careful next time, alright?” 

“Y-yeah...” you said softly, not sure if he heard you. On the inside you were screaming at the fact he told you to be careful- let along speak to you. You were about to bid him goodbye when he spoke again.

“Where are you off to anyway?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m supposed to meet my friends at that cafe down the street... I’m kinda late though.” you admitted. 

“I’m actually going there too, we could go together.” You froze. Fred Weasley was asking you to walk with him?! This had to be a daydream, you thought.

“Um, sure! I mean- if you want...” you said trailing off the last bit. He smiled that gorgeous smile of his and swung the guitar around his shoulder.

“’Course, I was the one who offered.” he said chuckling. You mentally facepalmed at your dumb response.

“Oh, right...” What a golden time to be a dumbass.

“Well then let’s go.” he said bringing a hand behind your back to lightly push you in the direction of the cafe. You hoped your cheeks wouldn’t be red for the whole journey.

---

As you walked through the courtyard, you noticed that Fred was not only carrying a guitar, but also was holding a skateboard with his right hand. You knew he had a skateboarded so that wasn’t a new sight, however you couldn’t help but wonder what he sounded like playing the guitar.

“You interested in my skateboard, love?” he asked looking back at you in a teasing way. You quickly whipped your head in the other direction, not conscious that you were in fact staring again. Plus, he made you feel more flustered with that term of endearment.

“Uh yeah, it’s cool.” you said shyly, not really sure what to say.

“Would you like to see me ride it?” he asked.

“Sure.” you replied as you tried your best to not sound shaky. With that, he dropped the item in his hand which made you jump slightly because of the sound from it hitting the stone ground. He hopped on and pushed the surface with his right foot. 

You watched in admiration as he swerved left and right with ease. He couldn’t do much since there were other people crowding the courtyard, but you found it impressive otherwise. When he slowed down, he hopped off and stopped the board with the front of his foot. 

He turned back to look at you, as if to see if you were watching him. You had to jog to where he was since the skateboard obviously was faster than by foot.

“Might as well leave me behind.” you joked referring to the difference of speed. He grabbed the board back in his hand as you caught up to him. 

“Well, you can take it there if you’d like.” he responded catching onto your sarcasm. 

“And get me a step closer to death? No thanks.” He grinned at your reply. 

“You scared?” he asked, not in a mocking way, but more of a genuine curiosity way.

“I guess you could say that, I don’t really think that my small feet could balance well enough.” you said while looking down at your feet. 

“I could teach you.” he said quickly. Your eyes widened.

“Oh- that’s really nice of you, but...” You couldn’t say yes, not only would you make a fool of yourself, but you thought you’d combust after spending so much time with him. But then you watched his chocolate brown eyes, looking at you pleading for an answer- how could you say no?

“Um maybe later?” you said. Just like that his smile returned and he nodded, hoping to take you up on that offer sometime.

—-

The rest of your walk to the cafe was silent. You were scared to look him in the eye, or be caught staring again.

Once you arrived, you rushed to open the door for him since he was carrying so much. He was a little surprised but was grateful nonetheless.

“Thanks.” He said to you as he walked through the door way. You smiled in response, and was about to make a dash for the table you spotted your friends at because if they saw you with Fred they would ask a million questions.

“Hey wait!” He called before you could take more than two steps away. You stopped and turned back to him.

“You’re (y/n), right? You’re in my class.”

“Yeah...”

“(Y/n).” he repeated which you swore was melody to your ears. “And I’m-“

“Fred Weasley.” You covered your mouth instantly after blurting his name out. He was taken aback as he saw that you knew his name.

“Yeah,” he said chuckling at your flustered form. “See you later (y/n).” You couldn’t even get anything out of your mouth, so you simply waved and quickly headed to the table where your friends were, and he did the same.

And just to your luck, you sat down realizing that your friends had been watching and giggling the whole time.

“What?” You asked with a slight growl in your voice.

“You and Fred Weasley?”

“Ooh since when was (y/n) (l/n) becoming a troublemaker?”

You groaned and waved your hands to them as if that would get them to stop teasing you.

Meanwhile at the other end of the pub, a certain redhead you were just with had a similar conversation.

As Fred sat down, he didn’t say anything. All he did was take a sip of his drink that George already ordered for him and look out the window. His twin and Lee Jordan looked at each other with knowing looks, both sharing the same thought about what they just saw.

“Hey Fred?” started Lee. Fred looked back from the window to his friend. “Who’s that girl you walked in with?”

“Hm?” He hummed, not really paying attention.

“That girl.” Said George nudging his twins arm and pointing to the direction of you.

“Just a girl I bumped into.” He said tilting his head downwards, though he was fooling no one, and especially not the two people he hung out with everyday. Though Fred’s smile could barely be seen, both of them could see his dimples forming, and looked at each other giggling.

“Not a girl you fancy?” teased George while putting his tongue between his teeth to stop grinning so much. Lee ducked his head down to hide his laughter as well. Fred shook his head, but George and Lee were not having it.

Back to your situation-

“I swear this isn’t a big deal!” you protested. Arguing with your friends about this topic was hopeless.

“And having him walk you here isn’t a big deal?”

“And him offering you to try skateboarding isn’t a big deal?” It was pointless to even speak- your two friends versus just yourself, they’d never let this go.

“(Y/n) look at us, we’re two miserable single souls and we’re jealous over your relationship!” she said dramatically. You blushed at the thought, but you rolled your eyes so it could somehow cover it.

The rest of your time eating a drinking was fine once your friends stopped the teasing, even if you knew that wasn’t going to be the end of it. 

However, that night as you fell asleep, you couldn’t help but remember what had just happened that afternoon with Fred.

--- 

The next morning, it was a lot warmer than yesterday. You had no plans on this nice Sunday, so you weren’t sure what to do to make use of your time. But when you walked past the courtyard, a familiar voice called out to you. 

“Hey, (y/n)!” Your head perked up to see Fred waving to you. You put on your best face and waved back. Then you realized he was also beckoning for you to come where he was. You were confused at first but you cautiously walked over to where he was.

“Hi Fred.” you greeted. Then you noticed what he had brought knee and elbow pads, as well as a helmet. 

“I- Fred I was joking about me skateboarding.” you said frantically barely able to get your sentence out. You were surprised he even remembered and kept his word.

“You said I could teach you later- it’s later.” he said smirking. Oh god, you were going to die today. “Well c’mon, put the stuff on, darling.” Your eyes narrowed into slits as you heard a second term of endearment. 

“Do you call all the girls that?” you asked genuinely wondering as you shifted the pads on your limbs. 

“Just you.” he mumbled as he handed you the helmet. You were very nervous- what else could distract you from the fear of falling on your butt?

Once you adjusted the helmet strap tighter, he gestured you to step on the board. In an instant you thought it was going to slip from underneath you like in those silly videos. But a pair of hands flew to your sides to stabilize you. Guess there was something to distract you.

“You can hold on to me, you know that right?” he asked. That was enough to snap you back to your senses. Except now you placed your arms on his forearms, which didn’t help in preventing the pink tint spreading on your face.

In being so close to him you could recognize some of his features in greater detail. You noticed that he had loads of freckles littering his face, mostly on the tops of his cheeks. You caught a whiff of his cologne which wasn’t too strong, but under that he smelled like cinnamon and firewood. 

“Alright, put your left foot a bit more to the front, that’s it... and bend your knees a little, otherwise those tiny feet of yours won’t balance well.” You bent your knees like he said but shook your head in displeasure as he giggled at your reaction.

“I’m gonna run you over with this skateboard.” you threatened jokingly in response to his comment.

“Ouch,” he said pouting. “But we’ll see if you get this down. I’m gonna start walking now, just stay steady like you are.” He slowly removed his hands from your sides, which made you release your grip from his arms. He put his hands under yours, and held them close to him. It made you felt more wobbly.

“Fred, I’m gonna fall.” you whisper-yelled.

“(Y/n), I’m holding you, you’re doing great.” he said laughing in between. You were squeaking as he walked across the courtyard and back. You felt a bit self-conscious when you saw a few others watching in the courtyard.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.” he said once he stopped walking. 

“Oh yeah, it was fantastic.” you said sarcastically. 

“Now let’s see you try this yourself.” 

“Fred wha-” And just like that, he let go, and stepped back and you were left to wobble with your arms outstretched everywhere. You yelped as the board seemed to be tilting.

“Fred! Don’t just leave me here!” you shouted, not feeling that you could stand much longer.

“Don’t you wanna run me over with a skateboard?” he teased. “Alright, c’mere-” Just as he was about to come over, you happened to come over first- that is, you fell with your hands right on his chest. He was shocked, and genuinely scared that he almost let you fall which led him to wrapping his arms around you. You looked up at him in embarrassment, and the proximity of your faces.

“I-I’m so- sorry!” you stuttered out. You were scared of what he was about to say, however you didn’t get to hear once Fred heard a wolf whistle from not very far and and turned his attention there.

“Hey Fred.” said George to his twin. Fred didn’t reply. George then turned to you and waved while smirking. You awkwardly waved back. You heard Fred mutter ‘That git.’ under his breath. Golden timing from George.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said George comically while putting extra emphasis on ‘interrupt’. “Fred, we’ve gotta go.” You looked up at Fred who looked back down at you, who looked like he suddenly remembered, then he thought of something.

“Meet me back here after lunch,” he whispered which made you let out a slight hum in confusion. “We’ll continue this later.” He unwrapped his arm around you, and gave you a small peck to your forehead. He helped you off the board and you quickly took off the pads and helmet to give back to him.

Once he jogged off with George and out of range from you, you were left with a series of unanswered questions in your head. You brought your fingers up near your forehead, feeling where he had just kissed you in the middle of the courtyard.

“Did you mean continue the skateboarding?” you whispered rhetorically to yourself, still dumbfounded about what just happened.

Only after lunch you would find out.

————————————————

[with-love-anu]

Flirting Disasters

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader Summary: You fell in love with Sirius Black while working together with him at the order while he dismisses every move you make on him Warnings: Second hand-embarrassment, drinking problems, passing out, break-down. Word Count: 3,789

You fiddled with your purse thinking about your first order meeting. Granted, you were an expert at decoding messages coming from your immense study of Runes; but you could very well handle yourself in a fight too.

Dumbledore already told you about your job. Decode the messages and try to find out the course of action of the death eaters. He had told you that you’ll be working with Sirius Black the owner and head of the Black household, also the order’s headquarters. You’d been told a lot about him too. Being wrongly accused and sent to Azkaban by his own best friend, his narrow escape and having to stay back at the headquarters for his own good. That did not prepare you in any way when you actually met him.

He was gorgeous. High well-defined cheekbones, long raven hair that licked his sharp jaw line. He was exactly your type, if there was one. You knew then, you were in trouble. You knew, your ever flirtatious nature would kick you in the back because you just could not not flirt with him. Not when he look like a Greek god.

“Hello, I’m (Y/n) (Y/l/n) and we would be working and living together apparently. So, hey there roomie!” you said putting your best face on.

“Sirius.” He said giving you a tight lipped smile and shaking your hand. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from saying something. He wasn’t the chirpiest of people, you decided.

***

It had been 2 days since you both worked together. You heard him speak only when required.

“So this here means north, and that little symbol over there; cabin.” You said pointing towards the latest letter. “But I don’t think that’s a place or-“

“That’s a pub” Sirius said interrupting you. “There’s a famous pub on the out skirts of London named- “Donec in septemtrionis” which translates to the northern cabin.”

“Wow, you’re smart too! Aren’t you the complete package?” You smirked, eying him.

Sirius looked at you and for a moment you were sure he was going to quip back with something teasingly witty; but he just averted his gaze, leaning over the letter.

“We need to report this to the order.”

It took a while before Sirius said more than a few words to you, and not about the job. He would light up talking about his years at Hogwarts and told you stories you were only too happy to listen. You told him about your research and the years you spent in Egypt learning languages and studying symbols and encrypted text. You told him about dealing with cursed objects and the friends you made there as Sirius held on to everything you said. You still flirted with him, making him act to be all annoyed.

---

“You look cute today.” You said as Sirius came in freshly shaven. Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll look cuter holding my hand” you winked making Sirius groan.

---

You and Sirius were looking at James and Lily’s wedding pictures.

“James was so scared that day! He looked like he would puke before we threatened him to get himself together.” Sirius said grinning.

“You know,” You said making Sirius turn towards you. “I’m gonna be your bomb ass wife someday.” Sirius scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Oh you’re so in love with me.” You said giggling.

---

***

It was an order meeting. The two of you set up the long table, chairs and fixed some water and drinks on the cabinet. Dumbledore stood up.

“I’m sad to inform you all that Dominic Sanders is found missing.” Your eyes widened. No, not him.

“What?!?” you demanded.

“The aurors are on him, he had been to a confidential mission and we are not getting any messages from him. We already released two search parties but nothing yet has been traced.” Dumbledore emphasized. You bit back tears that were threatening to spill.

Sirius noticed the change in your demeanor. You had always been a chirpy and outspoken person,  and now to think of it he didn’t know how he would have handled himself without you. Over the top of it, you were extremely intelligent. You knew what you talked about. He would be lying to himself if he said that he never had the urge to flirt back. And you were beautiful. But he was done fooling around. He had to take care of Harry and work for the order, fight against the dark lord who dared to strike again. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be your friend atleast. So when he saw your face fall at the news, remaining quiet during the whole meeting he could only guess how sad you must be.

After the meeting, you slowly helped Sirius cleaning and clearing the area out.

“(Y/n), are you okay?” Sirius asked softly.

“Yes. Fine.” You said hoping Sirius would leave you alone like he did every time. Sirius frowned.

“You don’t think I would believe that shit, would you?” Sirius scolded.

“Sirius, please leave me alone.”

“No, you have to talk to me.”

“It’s not like you care.” You said as head thumped. The news had crushed you. You knew you were moments away from a complete breakdown. Sirius sucked in a breath.

“I do care. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” he said and you finally let tears fall.

“Dominic was always like a big brother to me. He took me in when I was at my worst and is the only person I call family, I jus-“ You started breathing deeply, falling to the ground with a thud.

Sirius was near you in a second, rubbing your back. You buried your face in his neck, crying as he held you. As you slowly calmed down, you sniffed pulling away.

“Thank you.” You said.

“(Y/n), this is war. I know you are strong, but things like this happen and make you lose your faith. Please don’t. Its dark now but light always triumphs.”

“I know. I see it. I see it in you every single day.” You said looking at him. “Professor McGonagall often told me about you, you know. The young boy always upto some mischief. While others may have become spiteful over time under the things like you went through; you matured. You changed yourself when time demanded it and I admire you for it. I know there’s still good in the world.”

Sirius froze. You thought what? He looked at you wiping your tears away as he felt something leap inside him. You looked at him and let out a small laugh.

“I won’t break, I promise.” You said standing up and resuming what you were doing.

***

Something changed after that. Sirius could feel it. He would forget what he needed to do, hum Beatles songs under his breath, smile out of the blue. Everyone could see it, Molly Weasley tried her best to hold her giggles as Sirius helped you smiling and bubbling like an idiot. He greeted everyone leaving them happier. Remus raised his eyes on seeing him.

“You look awfully happy today.” He stated.

“Really? Well, it’s a nice day!” Sirius said averting his eyes towards (Y/n) who was giggling and laughing at something Tonks said; smiling instantly.

“Ahhhhh..” Remus drawled. Sirius turned his head towards his friend.

“What?” he asked.

“(Y/n)’s pretty intelligent, huh?” Remus asked.

“Yes, she is. Can you believe that girl got straight O’s in every subject she took both in OWL’s and NEWT’s? And she is quite quick minded too. She…” Sirius stopped seeing the look on Remus’s face.

“I don’t like her.” he said pointedly.

“Funny, I never said that.” Remus said smirking. Sirius shook his head.

“Like I said I don’t” Sirius said shaking his head. Remus patted his shoulder.

“Whatever lets you sleep at night.”

Sirius frowned. He did not like (Y/n).

***

You smiled seeing another letter from Pietro. He was on an undercover mission and sent letters whenever he could. He was your best friend, the person you knew would be there for you no matter what. He had sent you a bouquet of wild flowers from the area knowing how much you love them. You giggled reading how much he craved a good bowl of cake and firewhiskey.

Sirius frowned on seeing you. You had got flowers? And who wrote the letter that made you smile so much?

“What have you got?” he asked making you look at him. You smiled widely.

“Letter and flowers from Pietro! Look! Aren’t these just beautiful. I love getting wild flowers and a good book to read. Makes my day!”

Sirius tried not to frown.

“Who’s Pietro?” He asked forcing a smile.

You looked at him raising your eyes and smiling mischievously.

“Awww. Look who’s jealous? Don’t worry babe, only you own my heart.” You winked at him. Sirius’s eyes widened as a crimson blush covered his cheeks and stuttered.

“Wait… What!?! NO!” he said and you giggled.

“Keep lying to yourself.” You smirked leaving the room.

You sighed. You loved Sirius. You knew that. He made your walls crumble easily. Flirting for fun was one thing, flirting with him was another. You still couldn’t believe the day you cried in front of him. You never did that, not even with Pietro. Dominic was the only people whom you let see you like that. And you fell more in love with Sirius when he called you strong, showed you he trusted you to be capable.

But it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Because every time you would flirt with him, he would act to be annoyed. Sometimes you thought he was. You thought maybe, he really never loved you. He thought you as a friend, or as he said to his Remus sometimes, ‘colleague’. It hurt you, it did every single time. You would smile and pretend not to notice but it made your stomach churn.  However then you would remember what Dominic always said to you. Different people had different ways of showing their love. Some people would say it, while others would show you in every small way possible. And he did. He would make sure you took care of yourself, do all these things just to make you happy. Then why in hell did he deny it?

***

Sirius and you were baking a cake. Why? ‘You don’t need a reason to bake a cake.’ The cake was done beautifully as you took it out of the oven letting the chocolate smell waft through the house. You let it cool before taking the icing knife as you both started putting some cream on it. When you were done, you both admired it smirking at each other. You took the bowl with the left over icing swiping a finger through it, licking the cream. Sirius came forward to take some but you swatted his hands away. He pouted making you giggle.

“You may be the love of my life but I am not giving you the icing.” He raised his eyebrow and came forward to take some anyway and you stretched your hands away from you to increase the distance.

“(Y/n). Give me some cream come on!” he whined. You took some more eating it in front of him pointedly. He mock gasped before coming towards you making you run away from him.

“(Y/n)!!!” he said grabbing you by your waist making you topple and fall. He fell above you as you both giggled and laughed. You heard coughs on the door and you turned to see Remus and Tonks smirking. You got up red face and excusing yourself to your room.

Sirius stood up awkwardly and performed some cleaning spells to remove the mess created by the fallen icing. Tonks went after you. Sirius could feel Remus's gaze on him.

“It’s not what you think” he muttered.

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

“Well it is nothing. Besides I am not as young as I used to be. Moreover I am a fugitive. I have nothing to promise her or anyone else.” Sirius said shaking his head.

“I don’t think she minds, she flirts with you quite much. And by the way she looks at you, anyone could see she really likes you” Remus insisted.

“I never flirt back.” Sirius maintained.

“Yes, I do understand that; but you do so many things for her. You make sure she sleeps on time, she eats properly, made hot chocolate for her when she felt sad. Man, you never made hot chocolate for me or James; even when we demanded it. You are leading her on. You like her and you’re hurting her by keeping up the façade. I know you Sirius don’t lie to me.”

Sirius remained silent before shaking his head. You and Tonks entered the dining area just then. You all laughed and talked about everything but the war. It felt nice. It made you happy. There was one thing though. Sirius was acting weird. He did not once look at you. He did not talk to you directly. Was he so embarrassed by his friend seeing you like that?

“So, you and (Y/n), huh?” Tonks mused teasing Sirius. You blushed.

“Tonks, let me make one thing clear,” Sirius said sitting up straighter. “There is nothing between me and (Y/n). Ever was or will be.” Sirius said the last part looking at you and you froze. Your mind reeled as maintained a poker face. Tonks head whipped towards you when Sirius said it, knowing you liked him. Besides she was a good friend throughout your years at Hogwarts. She glared at him all evening. As for you, you felt like you were sinking. Your heart thumped and your stomach churned. You hated every moment you made yourself believe Sirius did like you.

When the evening ended, you went straight to your room not looking once at the man who broke your heart so terribly. As you closed the door behind you, you fell on the ground with a thump. You put your hand over your mouth as you cried out. Your whole body shook as broke down completely. All you could hear was his words being played over and over in your mind. Your mind was numb as you slowly got up and went to the bathroom to wash your face. The silence crushed you. As you lay in your bed that night, you hugged your pillows. Sirius Black did not like you. Never had. Ever will.

Sirius regretted his words as soon as he said them. He saw your face fall for a moment before you completely masked it up. He hated himself. You did not say anything to him after that, or do so much as spare a glance over to him. He did not know what to do. Maybe you’ll hear him out the next day.

He couldn’t be more wrong. You acted like a robot around him, speaking only when necessary. No jokes, no greetings. You had raised up your guards around him. It crushed him. He felt Remus's words buzz over his head over and over again. You like her. His stomach churned and his heart thumped out of his chest. What had he done?

***

Your head zoomed as you heard Snape tell you three about harry and other children. They were underage! How were they going to handle themselves? You rushed to your room grabbing a coat.

“Where do you think you are going” Sirius growled as he saw you, ready to leave with them.

“To the ministry.” you said grabbing some floo powder.

“No you’re not, you’re staying here.” He said raising his eyebrows.

“And who are you exactly to tell me? I’m a member of the order as well. I’m going.” You said.

***

The place was a mess. Sirius could see spells fired everywhere and he made sure to know where harry was at all times. He dueled with Bellatrix, remembering old times. He stumbled back when a curse hit him in the chest.

“Stupefy!” he heard (Y/n)’s voice and saw his cousin turn to her.

“My oh my, such a beautiful girl! Crucio!” Bellatrix screamed.

Sirius felt all the air leave his lungs as (Y/n) withered in agony. He shouted to release her as someone cursed Bellatrix making her stumble. (Y/n) fell to the ground, her body limb. Sirius scrambled to her not able to control the situation.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)!” He slapped her face, but to no avail. Remus came beside him. “Sirius, an emergency healer was sent to the headquarters, quick, take her there!” Sirius picked (Y/n) up apprating quickly. His heart thumped. Hold on, (Y/n). We’re almost there.

The healer was fast. He took (Y/n) from him taking her to the guest bedroom telling him to stay outside. Sirius slumped to the ground. Tears fell from his eyes as his mind reeled him with what happened moments ago.

***

The healer came out after what felt like hours. Sirius refused to eat anything Remus offered. Not until he saw (Y/n). Sirius was up in an instant, wanting to hear what the healer said.

“She was hit by a pretty huge curse. She’s in coma right now. We don’t know when or if she’ll wake up.”

“What do you mean ‘IF’!?!” Sirius roared.

“It’s more likely that she’ll wake up. But she’s in a coma. We can do nothing but wait.”

Sirius felt like he was going to punch the healer, but Remus held him back.

“We understand.” He said glaring at Sirius.

***

It had been 10 days. 10 days since (Y/n) lay lifeless on the bed. Sirius would read to her, sit by her, and fell asleep beside her in case she woke up at night. He watched her face as he tried to control herself. He would give everything up if was just to see her again. To hear her voice. What if she never…

“(Y/n).”

“(Y/n). Wake up. You’ve been sleeping for so long.”

“I have been an idiot, I know but please, don’t punish me like this. Just say something. Anything. Flirt with me again. I promise I’ll flirt back. Every time. Even if it’s the only thing I do.”

“(Y/n)”

***

“Sirius, she’s up” Sirius was at his feet in a moment. She was awake. Finally. Remus held him back. Sirius frowned.

“She doesn’t want to see you.”

“What?”

“She asked not to let you in the room specifically.” Remus said sympathetically as Sirius eyes prickled with tears.

“Why?” he whispered.

“Sirius, I know you are hurt, but she is just out of coma. And the last thing she remembers is your fight with her. Come on, lets get out of here, I’ll take you for a drink”

“You go.” Sirius said not meeting his eyes. What would he do now?

Sirius sneaked into (Y/n)’s room at midnight. He had to see her. It hurt, it really did, and nothing seemed to console him. He drank, transformed into padfoot, but nothing helped the ache of his heart.

He stumbled a little as he opened the door to her room.

“Sirius? Is that you?” you asked, squinting in the dim light. A shiver ran through you as you heard a vase fall down.

“(Y/n)… shit!”

You sat up and performed a spell opening lights around you. You quickly muttered a spell swooping up the glass pieces. Sirius squinted and widened his eyes as the vase fell back into its place. You let your eyes fall on Sirius. Was he drunk?

“What do you want Sirius?” you asked.

He looked you and came forward stumbling and sat on the edge of the bed.

“You. I want you. I want to talk to you. Listen to your stories and have you listen to mine. I want to hold your hand and kiss those soft pink lips of yours. I want you to flirt with me as you used to before and I want to flirt back. Shit! I am such an idiot!” he said yanking his hair. You stopped him and he looked at you.

“I am sorry. I- I have no explanation for myself. I am a stupid worthless piece of shit who didn’t deserve you and still had you like me somehow. I want to be good, but I can’t I am just too selfishhh” he slurred.

“I just want you, even if it’s the only thing I ever get. Because you are so…” he gestured his hands at you and you felt tears in your eyes.

“You. You are the magic in my life. You make me angry and sad and happy and jealous and scared. You make me smile like an idiot over nothing. You make me sing whenever I remember you. I don’t like you (Y/n). I love you.” He said as he scooted closer to you making you sniff. He laid his head on your lap and placed your hand over his head.

“Sirius“ you croaked, but saw he had already passed out.

***

Sirius woke up next morning with a grunt. He looked around in haze trying to make out where he was.

“Here, take this tonic.” You said giving Sirius the blue vial.

Sirius’s eyes widened as he tried to recall what happened the previous night. His head banged and he took the vial drinking its contents in a single gulp. It took him a moment before everything became clearer. You sat down in front of him.

“(Y/n) I-“ Sirius started but you raised your hand stopping him.

“You can get shit drunk, threaten to kill my healer, punch Remus when he kept you outside, but not once tell me that you love me?” You asked. Sirius looked down, the events of the night coming back to him instantly.

“Tell me, Sirius am I that bad a friend?” You asked after sometime.

Sirius held your hands and kissed your knuckles.

“I’ve been known to be an idiot many times. It isn’t your fault.” He said making you release a breathy laugh.

“I am sorry. Please forgive me.” He pleaded.

“Did you mean it? What you said last night?” you asked not giving yourself too much hope.

“Yes.” He gulped.

“You’ll hold my hand and always flirt back?” you asked.

“Always.”

“You’ll hold me and kiss my soft pink lips?”

Sirius nodded fervently.

“Do it then.”

His hands were on you in a second, cupping your face and kissing you urgently, as if he’ll wake up and find it was all just a dream. As you pulled back breathless, you put your head over Sirius’s.

“Sirius Orion Black, you better keep those promises.”

“I will. I can’t lose you again”

A/N: I worked very hard on this one. I would love some feedbacks/reblogs/coments. Thank you so much for reading!

[docholligay]

Little love letters--Lena

And of course I can’t help myself by ending with something where I even made myself a bit misty-eyed, cooked up in the middle of the night while I couldn’t sleep, staring at the ceiling and thinking of things of this nature. I love a good tragedy, I guess it can be fairly said of me, but I like it best when things are bittersweet. This is my bittersweet chocolate for me, but also all of you. 

The London Record-- a future run date

To My Wife’s Next Wife

by Lena Oxton 

When this is printed, she’ll be cross at me, I know, but I’ll be dead and so there won’t be much she can do about it. When this is printed, she’ll say that I was a bit of a wicked thing, not to tell her I was doing it, and I suppose she’s not wrong. When this is printed, she’ll tell you she won’t ever marry someone else, and that, I hope, is not true. 

I hope that you’re reading this right now, her next wife, and I hope you take everything I say under advisement. 

First of all, let me tell you all the reasons you want to marry my wife, Emily Oxton, formerly McNair, originally of Glasgow, and maybe living there when you meet her. But just as likely not, she’s built up quite a life in London, so if you’re reading this, and I hope you are, keep your eyes out for her all about the United Kingdom. 

I met her in a grotty little pub out on the East End, which does want for a bit of romance, so if you could manage more a meet-cute for her, she’d very likely be grateful. She never did much like telling the story of being stood up, and how I simply wouldn’t stop trying to cheer her, and how it took her days to call me. So I’d appreciate you giving her a story she enjoyed telling, if you’re feeling generous. 

You’ll know her immediately. There’s few women like her, and I knew it that day in the pub, dank as it was. If you see a tall gorgeous redhead, with long legs like a supermodel’s, but carries herself like she doesn’t know that, it might be her. You’d have to check and see if she has those same bright, clear eyes, and the freckles that go all the way down her shoulders. If those check, ask her a question, and you’ll know its her by the soft singsong way she talks, like everything’s a question. 

I suspect you will already be in love with her, at this point. At the very least, you’ll want to pop round for a drink with her. If the soft dress with the foxes and rabbits embroidered on it puts you off, let me explain that she’s a reception year teacher, or I hope she will be again by then--she’s taken some time off to care for me--and her kids love the dresses. She loves the kids, loves to teach them, and she’s so good at it. She’s good with the soft and small things, and though you can’t know it, just meeting her as you are, your heart will melt seeing her with them. 

It’s fun to bring her flowers at work, though it’s a bit unprofessional, and see their eyes grow wide, asking Miss Emily just who you are. She’ll blush a bit, it’s very winning. 

I did that, when we were first together. She’s a bit shy in the beginning, you know. I would walk her home--and you had better walk her home, I won’t have my wife marrying someone who wouldn’t be a perfect gentlelady to her--and she’d stammer at her door, wanting to invite me in and afraid to do it, all the same. Had to invite myself up, really. I was a perfect gentlebutch about it, mind. That first night I slept over, we did nothing but fall asleep holding hands on the couch. 

So you must be patient with her, you see. Emily takes time, as all things worth enjoying do. Once she kisses you, and smiles at you, once she makes you dinner in her flat, it’ll all have been worth it, I promise. If you thought she was beautiful before, you’ll find her stunning when she trusts you. She glows under the light of love, and she deserves every inch of it. 

I’m hoping the next woman she marries can give her children, though I can’t really be too cross over something I couldn’t manage for her. She’ll be kind even if you can’t. We whispered it to each other one night on my couch, how we’d both wanted it, how an unhappy twist of medical truth had made it impossible for us both. We might have adopted, had things turned different. But they didn’t, and so all I have is this letter to you, telling you she would make the best kind of mother, and however it happens, you should give her the chance. 

It’s hard to get my thoughts straight, all the things I need you to know about Emily, and what a wonder she is. My days are measured in moments now, and I fall asleep halfway through a sentence sometimes. No one ever tells you the business of dying is boring as well as inconvenient. That one’s not about Emily, just consider it a bit of free advice. But I must get it out, you see, for there’s the risk you won’t know all the things I need for you to know when you marry her. 

Her favorite hot chocolate is the Wispa Gold, and she likes it best on winter afternoons when it rains. She likes wines that are a bit sweet, and prefers cider to beer. She hogs the duvet, so you’ll need to make like the Swiss and have two. She loves to have her hair brushed and braided, when she’s feeling a bit sad. She prefers Italian food to nearly anything else, and doesn’t care for oysters, and she’ll only order a pudding if you suggest it first. Her perfume is Memoires d’une Autre Domaine, and you should buy it for her, she’s a bit loathe to spend the a few quid on herself. That last bit might have changed, by the time you meet her, but I had to learn all of this myself, so you’re getting ahead all the same. 

Emily is a terribly sensitive thing, and you must be tender with her sometimes. When she cries after a movie, I want you to be sure to hold her tight and kiss her tears. Let her know you think it’s sweet that she’s so. She’ll surprise you with her strength, too. I have found her to be a proper rock against everything that’s befallen us, this first and last year of our marriage.

She deserved so many things I couldn’t ever give her, and a longer marriage is one of them. I look to you to fix my mistake. 

I say she was so strong, even crying at a commercial or something, because she chose this. I told her the truth before we married, and she chose to take my hand for whatever time it was anyhow. She didn’t have to do that. I tried so many ways to give her an out, and she never did take it. So you see how lucky you are, to find someone like her. She believed in that oath of in sickness and health before she even took it. 

You are, ideally, a woman with a steadiness and a safety I lacked, but still having enough of the spark she seemed to appreciate in me to keep her laughing.She loves to laugh. If you were a bit neater than me, she’d appreciate that as well, I think.  You like to cook, but want to have help in the kitchen, because she likes to help. Mind that you take her on holiday--I don’t want anyone who expects her to be kept at home. You should own at least one good suit, and wear a tie when you take her out, like the lady to be shown off she is. 

If you work to be worthy of her, I’ll help you find her. 

There is so much to have with Emily: She is the sort of woman who will meet you at the airport with flowers, simply because she thought there needed to be some celebration of your being home again. This magical thing will grin at all of your plans, and hold your hand as you walk through Paris, or anywhere you care to take her, with wide eyes, for she appreciates all the small things of this world. When you’re unwell, she’ll read to you in that brogue of hers I’ll miss hearing so much. You’ll feel warm, on the coldest London day. Nothing gets through her. 

I promise you, if you take the time to become my wife’s new wife, you’ll be the happiest woman on this grey rock we call a country. Even when I’ve had not much to be happy about, I see her there and I know that at least one thing has been right. She’s a light in the darkness, love, and you must trust me on that. 

Her mind may turn to me, from time to time. Seems unavoidable, however much I told her not to be fussed over me. I’m only a shadow and a memory, something that’ll pass over her and then be gone. Sometimes she may want to tell a funny story about me, and it would be kind of you to listen. Please don’t think of me as a threat, even if it makes her a bit sad. My mate has told me I may be aiming quite high, and that the shadow of me is a touch intimidating. But I’m not writing you as Tracer, aviatrix, and Overwatch command, and whatever else I might have been on the record. 

This letter comes from Lena Oxton, who was married to, for a short time, and dearly loved, Emily Oxton. 

 I need you to know that I’m writing this to you because I want you to find her. I want you to love her and be loved by her, and I want you to have fifty or more happy years together. I am out of time to give her every gift she deserved, and so the only thing I can give her if the gift of you, wherever you are. My greatest hope, at the end of my life, is that you are out there, the right person, waiting for the right widow to reenter the dating sphere, maybe not even knowing that yet. 

Emily will be cross at me, when this is first published, but she’ll also clip it from the paper. Maybe she’ll read it over on your wedding day, and she’ll cry a bit, knowing she found you, and so gave me the only last thing I ever asked of her: Not to put her heart on a shelf. 

You have my blessing, and my hope. To my wife’s next wife, I love you as well, and I thank you.

[thepeakygurl]

16 Shots

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word count: 1073

Warnings: Mention of violence

Prompts: Y/N is taken hostage by a rivalry gang and Thomas goes to save you.

My first Peaky Blinders/Thomas Shelby scenario ever! I really hope you like it and hope it meets your expectations! Please don’t hesistate to give me any feedbacks. Also, my first language is not English so if there’s any grammatical mistakes please pardon me! ( requested by @irishwhiskeys thank you so much for giving me the chance to write this piece ✨ )

“Thomas, you are here!”

Polly’s voice echoed in Thomas’ head as he entered the room. An imperceptible sighed slipped from his mouth while he was cautiously taking off his jacket. If questioned just minutes before about his preference of spending the rest of the evening alone or with his family, he would have certainly chosen the second one.

However, now that every single Shelby was standing in each corner of the living room, with such a sad expression that could have saddened the happiest human being in the world, he had his doubts about that reckless and hypothetical decision. “Did Arthur attempt to kill himself again?” He jokingly asked to ease up that damn the tension. Suddenly even the room felt too small for all the concern that was in the air as a mass of black clouds in the middle of a typical day in Birmingham, but this felt nothing like a typical day.

Arthur was not laughing or screaming at him, he was sitting at the table, giving all his attention to the cigarette he kept playing with. John not so close to him, standing tall while holding Esme’s hand so tight as if he was trying to hold onto her. Thomas looked at Arthur and instantly knew that things were worse than he was imagining “Is anyone going to fucking tell me what’s going on?!” He burst out and only then Polly stood up. Her hair was a mess, she was clearly worried and if Thomas didn’t know her any well, he would have swore she shredded some tears. How of all of her expectations she became fond of you.

She handed him over a piece of wrinkled piece of paper, the same one that its content turned the Shelby’s living room into a mass funeral “They took her Tommy...” she said, her voice so broken and soft that Tommy couldn’t even read the piece of paper his eyes went instead across the room, looking for Ada and when he finally saw her, standing and with her eyes achingly looking at him, he knew it was you.

For a small amount of seconds, Thomas forgot how to speak. His throat was aching as if someone was trying to choke him and his heart has never ached like this before. He quickly read the note and he knew that only someone dumb and inexperienced could have thrown such a move. He let the piece of paper slip out of his hands as he quickly put on his jacket. “Let us come with you” Arthur said, but he didn’t stand up, he knew Thomas would told him to sit back down

“Instead of standing here like some sorts or middle aged men you should have gone after her as soon as you read this fucking piece of shit” he screamed at him as he was loading his gun that he then carefully handed and pointed out at the all room “If y/n dies, so are you” he almost whispered it out, but he was sure that even those words said in a slightly whisper was enough for his family to know that someone today was really going to die.

Lately he had received news of a new group of reckless children that were trying to play gangsters. He never looked at them as a threat, if anything he was amused, almost impressed and saddened by how someone’s ambition could aim at just being a gangster. It was dark outside, the rain was making the road slippery. A sense of guilt started to fill his bones as he got into his car and started to drive towards the pub, where the paper indicated him to go. He told you a million times that this life was not meant for you, that you were meant to live a peaceful and meaningful life, perhaps apart, but you and your stubbornness couldn’t just let it go. You have to prove yourself, started to work with the family and put yourself at risk. He couldn’t believe he did that to you, he couldn’t believed you were taken hostage because of his own ambition and pride. He felt his hands shake onto the wheel of the car, which made him grab onto it tight as he approached the pub. Stepping out of the car, Thomas didn’t take out his gun, he instead put his hand inside his pockets as he entered the pub. The place usually filled with laughter and tipsy people was now empty, except for the bartender behind the bar, held at gun point by some kid that could have honestly have the same age as Finn. Such a pity, he thought.

His eyes went across the room were a smiling young gentleman welcomed him. “We were honestly starting to think that this one wasn’t really worth it for you” he said in a laughter, looking over his should where you were also being held at gun point, some man with a dreadful smell covering had his arm around your throat and his gun pointed at your head. When your eyes met Thomas’ you could tell he was angry, but you also felt something else, something his eyes have never told you before. Thomas attention was once again reversed to the young gentleman “I usually attend business not blackmails” he said, he had to use all his self control in order to maintain his calm and not killing the bastard right away “Do you want to talk about business or can we go?” He proceeded to ask.

The young gentleman laughed again, an horrible laugh that made both Thomas and y/n almost rolling their eyes. “Mr. Shelby you should know best. You had your chance to consider my offer, now the offer is out of the table”

Thomas chuckled, his hand came out of his pockets which made everyone tense, the young gentleman looked at the man holding on y/n and the second one proceeded on loading his gun “Gentlemen” Thomas said to gain their attention, as he showed the cigarette in his hand that he then lit, as he thought before reckless and inexperienced they were indeed. “Now then, I will give you my offer. You will let the girl go and you will take your shit and your little milk drinker gang’s shit and you will vanish. How does that sound eh?” He said with the cigarette slowly burning out in his lips.

“Not good enough Mr. Shelby, not good enough” the young gentleman responded to the offer and he then handed out his gun pointed directly to Thomas, your heart stopped beating for a second as you saw the bastard loading his gun, but Thomas didn’t flinch, not even when the door burst open and Arthur came in all smiling “Starting a party without me I see? How rude”

While everyone was now holding their gun at Arthur, John was successful into entering from the back silently, he was just behind you and the man which he then grabbed by the collar and knocked him out with just a punch “I think they forgot to send our invitation” he then said, he looked at you and said something about getting out of there but you couldn’t. The room burst into chaos. Suddenly the kid threatening the live of the bartender was now being beaten by Arthur, the guy John punched was now coming to his senses and John couldn’t help himself but starting to play again, while Thomas was trying to take the gun out of the other’s one hand. He succeeded on the first try as the young gentleman was now trembling in fear trying to hold his tears. But this pitiful sight was not enough, Thomas felt all his anger coming back, all his self control leaving his body as he started to hit him with his very own gun. You looked at the scene, incapable of moving a single muscle. That was the kind of situation that Thomas didn’t want you to see, this wicked side of him that he was so afraid to show you was now revealed. Drowning in its own blood, you reckoned he was just a kid, a kid playing adult and you couldn’t help now but running towards Thomas and begging him to stop. Thomas however didn’t hear you, he was too busy taking the life out of the piece of garbage that tried to take you from him. And you saw it, you saw the life of the guy coming out of his body, begging for mercy so you had to kneel down and scream his name, forcing his face in your hands “It’s over Thomas, we are alright” and you specified we, because that was what it was all about. You and him. You were trying to prove yourself to him and he was trying to protect you.

Thomas was breathing heavily now, looking at you as lost as he has ever felt. The thought of loosing and never being able to see you again almost drove him insane. He tried to say something, he really tried to open his mouth and say that he was sorry, that he was desperately sorry, but he didn’t have too as you whispered I know, it’s ok. He stood up, helping you doing the same and here he just hold you onto his arms, as tight as possible. His face hiding in your neck while he allowed himself to kiss your skin and he sighed, relieved that he could do such a thing. You smiled again his chest.

“You lovebirds, can we go home now?” Asked Arthur, his hand socked in blood as he looked at you two with a big smile on his face. You laughed a little while Thomas was giving him a hard stare.

“Get yourself a room eh?” Were John’s word of wisdom as he and Arthur left the pub.

Thomas chuckled “Maybe we should get a room." He said and has soon as your cheeks turned into a bright red he laughed as well softly.

“Maybe we should” you whispered in a breath and once again, you saw a new emotion on Thomas’s eyes. Something you couldn’t quite describe just yet, but you knew it would lead to something quite interesting.

[dindooku]

As a young student studying Criminology, Gotham was the perfect place to study the thoery of crime. But, that didnt come without it’s own risks. Without your intention, your life becomes intertwined with another’s; a life you had so vehemently tried to repress - and now it was within your grasp; the opportunity held upon a golden pedestal, just waiting for you to take it. In your own desperation to fend off the demons tormenting your soul, can you overcome the very thing your swore against? Or will you succumb to the darkness? When had being bad ever felt so good?

Rating: M/E (swearing, triggers, panic attack (not explicitly said) - alcohol abuse (OC isn’t an addict but doesn’t display healthy relationships with alcohol) - please read the tags. this fic is going to be very dark and twisted so please be warned in regards to further chapters

word count: ~5k

You needed this.

By fucking god you needed this.

You could blame it on your studies, your recent move to Gotham city to study your Masters in Criminology; the perfect setting really. And you could blame it on your stressful move; the house that you're renting not being anything like the photos you viewed online - the water-damaged walls and the odd-looking array of bullet holes in the front room, and maybe even the questionable red stain spotting along the cream-turned-brown carpet towards the bathroom.

But most of all it was this.

Moving to Gotham was the worst-best thing you have ever done. It'd do leaps and bounds for your research and personal evolution, but it was also becoming more and more apparent by the day as to why the little flat you lived in was so cheap; having an address with anything to do with Hell on it was probably a good indication.

Flat 221B, 36th, Hell's Kitchen, Gotham.

Yeah. That's why you fucking needed this.

It was an absolute shithole. You'd only been here for a week and you had experienced more crime than you had been privy to when studying at home. It was a catch 22, move to the most dangerous city you can think of and get 1-1 experience in crime, collecting data for your dissertation; or stay at home, go to a safe city and become some pansy police officer who refused to get their hands dirty.

You were always one for taking risks.

So, as you downed your last home-made margarita and stuffed your bits and pieces into your shoulder bag, you were off out the door.

Tonight was a field day; an excuse to go out and get absolutely trollied all in the name of science. It was just getting late, the sun had set a few hours ago and the Gotham nightlife brought the streets to life; ironically, considering the insanely high murder rates. Some would call you mad, a single, young, attractive woman walking unfamiliar streets at this time of night, in Gotham. And you supposed you were. See, the only reason you were studying crime was out of pure fascination. Fascination, yes. The theory of it, really - how the human mind comprehended such decisions and why you lived in such a society - who branded these rules? Desperation was a word you liked to play with. Its meaning subjective depending on your own reality, really. You had always seen the world differently... criminals weren't inherently bad people to you, they were just often misunderstood, brandished, acting out of desperation at someone else's greed. Obviously, you had the complete and utter fucking mentalists, but even then you could find an argument in their favour - like the Joker; he was misunderstood, torn and thrown around like a rag doll until he made a stand, a particularly violent one, but a stand nonetheless; a stand out of desperation to be heard, to be understood. And deep down you resonated with his actions, being driven to the extremes to be listened to.

You knew exactly how he felt. You had the scars to prove it.

Enough on that, though; you're here for a good time, right? Right. You're going out to forget about the stingy shithole you'll be returning to once the night bleeds into morning, to forget about the mountain of case studies you've yet to work through. It was all a bit overwhelming; thus solidifying your burning need to procrastinate and forget about it all, and what better way to do it than get black-out drunk in a bar you've never been to before?

You weren't an alcoholic by any means, you didn't rely on the sweet burn to see you through the days, but that didn't mean you couldn't revel in the double-ended spear of its toxicity - drinking so much to forget, but its effects only temporary. You were a student, after all, you had to live up to the stereotype?

You scoffed at the thought, murmuring out loud, "Fucking hell." Ok maybe you needed to slow down a little bit... you put the hipflask back in its pouch whilst you continued to walk to your third bar of the night.

You were on a pub crawl of sorts, embarking on your own little quest to scout out the best club in town for further investigation. You were just balancing on that fuzzy tightrope between bliss and blindness, the perfect haze to blur out the dangers of the night and warm your skin despite the bitter cold. You were in your own little world it seemed, and as a bright neon sign for a secluded back alley club came into view, you knew you had to investigate.

"Card." Came the burly voice in front of you. You had to crane your neck up to meet their eyeline, trying your best to pull a serious face and not laugh at the imaginary comedy sketch playing out in your mind.

"Card, you mean ID?" You ask, one eyebrow furrowing in question. You had all the relevant stuff, and deep down you'd be offended if they didn't ask, you'd only just turned 21, a few months ago in fact.

"No, Entry Card, VIP." He reiterates, crossing his hands in front of his chest. You scoff at the idea that a place like this required VIP cards to get in. 'Really? They'd have to pay me to not go in, ha' you humour to yourself, finding the joke a little too funny in your drunken state.

"What's so funny?" The man asks again, a bit more aggressively this time, like he knew you were mocking him in your head. And you were. You knew you shouldn't push your luck, his size easily outmatching yours. But fuck it.

"Nothin sweetheart, just surprised 'tis all," You tease, rolling your eyes as you put your ID away and prepare to leave the queue.

The bouncer can't help himself, "Surprised?"

"Mmm, yes, surprised, or disappointed? You choose." You smirk as you turn away, hips swaying in a drunken swagger that you would never normally possess. Something about you tonight just screamed fucking goddess - and 'don't fuck with me else it will be the last thing you do' - you didn't know why; you were in no state to start a bar fight and win. Maybe it was the tight, black faux leather flares and wrap around corset that filled you with a placebo pill of confidence; but by god did you have a stunning poker face, one that seemed to have caught the eyes of someone other than the bouncer you were antagonising.

A whistle stopped you in your tracks.

You stood on the edge of the pavement, back to the club, your hair flowing slightly in the wind. You tilted your head slightly towards the sound, your minimal movement the only sign of your acknowledgement. You really hated catcallers. It was one of the few things that would really wind you up, your short and temperate anger fizzing and popping under the surface.

"Let her in." Came a new voice. You turned around, eyes landing on an unfamiliar face. He was a tall guy, with an ice-white buzzcut and a sculpted face sporting scars; new and old - his brows knit into a harsh line and his piercing gaze instructing you with just his silent intention. You decide to play along, smirking back at him as you turn and saunter your way back to the entryway. As you walk past the bouncer you position yourself against him, slighting a faint touch of your body to his, sure to leave a whisper of your perfume lingering in the air as a sort of poisonous parting gift - a nicely packaged fuck you.

Your pupils instantly dilated to the sight laid before you. Ok, you take it back. This was no dingey club. Your skin was coated in an inciting shade of red; the coloured theme of the club. It was stimulating, the atmosphere - reigniting that previous cockiness you had been secretly harbouring through the night and twisting it into something still unfamiliar to you, the inner thrumming residing behind your naval indistinguishable from the music reverberating around the club.

The man who had whistled at you had disappeared, so you took this as your opportunity to grab a couple more drinks, to scout the club, of course...

You sauntered over to the bar and after a moment of getting yourself comfortable on the stool, locked eyes with the bartender. They didn't hold the same ferocity as the man before, and you felt your outer guard falling slightly at the soft tones lacing their eyes, their general aura giving off nothing inherently dangerous. They walk over, one hand wiping away at a newly washed pint glass with a rag.

"What can I get you?" They ask politely. They seemed young, too young in fact to be working behind the bar, but now wasn't the time for serious investigating - you highly doubted he was underage, just in fact sporting an inherent babyface. You smile sweetly back at the bartender as you purr your reply, "Whiskey on the rocks, please."

"Oh? Honey that's strong?" He questions, an eyebrow furrowing at your request. You giggle at his innocence.

"Mhm, make it a double." You smirk, and he only reciprocated, pouring a double and a little extra.

"You're new 'round here, aren't you?" He states as he passes over your drink, and you nod as you take a sip, soon following up with a further reply, "That obvious?"

"No, I just would've remembered a pretty face like yours if you'd been here before." He flirts, leaning down onto the bar, elbows sitting comfortably on the dark mahogany surface - it was a tactical move, you knew it, he was getting closer to you by the minute and you noticed his blatant interest the moment he locked eyes with you. You'd play along for a little while, it was good practice anyway, investigating.

You smile before replying, a brief pause between sips to sell your contemplation, "I can tell you're not one for wasting time..." You pause, implying silently for his name.

"Alex." He smirks, holding his hand out to you. You shake it, surprised by the dexterity. But as you thought things were going well, he pulls away sharply, his gaze dropping from you as he scurries back to the other side of the bar nervously. Your face scrunches in confusion, wondering exactly what you'd done wrong.

A firm hand around your waist answers your question.

The presence of another behind you makes you tense momentarily, their forward nature catching you off guard. A hand swirls around the small of your back, stopping at the natural curve of your waist, their palm sitting comfortably in the dip as their fingers latched into your exposed skin. The grip is tight, possessive - possessive for someone you didn't even know the face of. Your nervousness quickly turns into a tizzy, frustrated at the being behind you and their audacity to hold you so. You twist, turning your head to meet the side of their face, eyes rough with your bubbling anger.

The sharp-edged, stubbly profile of a man greets you, a little too close for comfort.

"Alex, two of whatever she's ordered on me, 'kay?" The man says. You roll your eyes at his cockiness, picking up your whiskey glass and downing the rest of the hot honey, burning your throat in the process - but you invited the pain, it's scorch momentarily masking the uninvited heat that was building elsewhere.

"I can order my own drinks, thank you." You scoff, sliding off of the barstool and away from his grasp, picking up your bag so that you can leave.

The man scoffs, using one hand to bring the red-tinted shades sitting on his nose sliding down, tilting his head to give you a better look. You turn and face him at the wrong time it seems, interrupting his very blatant scan of your form. You scoff at his actions, turning harshly to go, muttering to him as you walk past him and towards the exit, "In your fucking dreams."

Yeah - you tell him, girl. Too fucking right, that's what he gets for...that. Maybe you were overreacting, but the way your skin heated like wildfire at his unexpected touch, the way the previously dormant thrumming deep within your stomach tinged with a spark of something you hadn't felt in a long time, a feeling that was unfortunately not one of pleasure to you - you panicked. You'd never reacted like this, but something about his presence was just dominating your senses and you had to get away, to clear your head; maybe it was the alcohol, you didn't know - you didn't care, you just wanted fresh air and five minutes to get whatever the fuck has come over you out of your system.

"I see manners are not your chosen language," The man jokes, but he doesn't bother hiding the icy bitter frustration at your rejection. But you carry on, moving away from his ensuing footsteps.

"Neither are they yours," You retort, turning the corner towards the back exit. But you don't make it to the back exit. The scarred man from before moves from the shadows and grips your upper arm, swivelling you in one motion to face your incessant assailant. You don't give him the privilege of your attention, instead choosing to stare wide-eyed at the ground. Your bubbling anger evolves into something more pertinent, more feral, "What the fuck is it with you guys?" You spit, trying your best to yank your arm free. It was no good, every time you moved his grip on you tightened.

"That's no way to speak to a kind gentleman, is it darling?" The stubble-haired man chides, waving a hand in a dramatic swish as he talks.

"You and gentlemen is a bit of a reach, don't you think? And kind too, don't flatter yourself sweetheart -- hey! Let me go!" You scorn, yanking away harder. Your heart was starting to race now, the phantom ghost of familiar brutish hands that had hurt you before were blurring with your present reality. You couldn't go through that again, no. You'd moved away for a reason, even if it were disguised by your University Degree, the real reason was to get away from him.

Your change in body language seemed to shock both men, and soon the bearded man orders the other to let you go.

"Zsasz, let her go." He says sternly. As soon as his grip is off of you, you practically run to the bathroom, locking yourself in the stall. You close your eyes. You were trying so, so hard to help yourself, but it was just not to be. The last 12 months come crashing down on you, and you were helpless against the murderous gravity of it all. Your panic quickly turned into terror, and no matter how hard you tried to suppress the overbearing feelings blistering your heart, their clutch was now embedded into your conscious and they were working their way out, ripping and tearing, leaving nothing but devastation in its wake. It was brutish, the power of it all; how after all this time those short few moments held such a crippling power over you, a power no matter how hard you tried to overrule, decimated you each and every time. You're so caught up in your emotions that you don't hear the lock on the bathroom click, nor do you hear the faint rustling of a velvet suit making its way towards your stall.

However, you do hear the tap-tap of leather-coated knuckles against the door.

"Fuck off," You spit, not even attempting to mask the raspy panic between each word. The other person didn't say anything, and silence engulfed the room momentarily, only the occasional piercing sounds of your choked panic ripping the hazy-yellow neon light animating the bathroom. The clink of glass to wood brought your head up, your attention distracted and now upon the glass of whiskey being slid underneath the door.

"A peace offering," A familiar voice clarifies. You snatch up the drink and down it in one, desperate for a distraction; a controllable discomfort. You cough roughly at the strength, the new soreness from your rasped panic mixing distastefully with the burn from the alcohol - note taken; don't ever do that again.

You take a second to let the burn cool before speaking, "Thanks...for the drink." 

He doesn't bother with a reply.

Another few moments pass and you feel you have yourself under control. You take in a deep breath and straighten your clothes out as you stand, brushing the stray hairs from your face and trying your best to look presentable despite the absence of a mirror. You unlock the door and move to step out, hand holding the empty glass out aimlessly for the other man to take.

He doesn't take it.

You furrow your brows and pause in your movements, and it is only now you chance a look into his eyes for the first time. The moment your eyes meet his, you regret it. Not because you're scared or frightened, no; you regret it because you know those are eyes you will forever see in your dreams. This man's eyes told you similar tales of the navy shores from home that you had often resided to in search of peace, the lighter hues telling tales of the midwinter sky you would doze under; and the occasional slash of cobalt reflected the darker depths of his soul, mirroring the light of unnamed stars. His eyes painted your soul in a colour you'd yet to see, a colour only he could grace you with, and it made you weak.

You were transfixed, held stationary by his unspoken authority. He raised an eyebrow at you, his understanding all too clear. You broke from your haze and scuffed, a hot blush creeping over your tear-stained cheeks.

Embarrassed couldn't even cover it.

"Fuck," you whispered, wiping away once again at the drying streaks of once warm tears on your cheeks. "FUCK!" You shout louder this time, chastising yourself as you come back to reality. What the fuck are you doing? You're stronger than this?

"How about we fix you another drink, hmm?" He says. You chuckle as you pinch the bridge of your nose, the heavy daze from the whiskey starting to mount its assault on your senses. Fuck it, you came here to get blackout drunk, so you're going to get fucking blackout drunk - for free by the looks of it.

You roll your shoulders and pick your head up, holding it high. "Sure, ugh--?" You say, holding out your hand to shake his as you hint for his name.

He replies with a smirk before turning you towards the door, catching himself before he places a hand at the small of your back, "Roman, Roman Sionis."

"Well, Roman, how about a pitcher or two?" You challenge, "Ever drunk with a student before?"

He didn't reply instantly, but you didn't let him, storming confidently out of the bathrooms and to the bar. You honed in on Alex, and at first he looked excited to see you, but as you approached he saw the darkness in your eyes and instantly knew you were'nt to be messed with. He poured a double shot of Vodka and Coke as quick as he could; it didn't even reach the counter before its contents were emptied by yours truly and slammed back onto the mahogany.

"Another." You growl, and Alex doesn't hesitate, the next drink landing in your hands within moments. You sink this one like the last, face maintaining the deadly glare it had held since you entered the room. Roman was soon at your side, marvelling at your drinking abilities; it was scary actually, how you managed to down your alcohol with such ease, expressionless. His grin faltered on your fourth shot and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, breaking your anamatronic trance and stealing your attention to him; that's better - Roman always got what he wanted, and he wanted you. He raised an eyebrow at your anger, wondering how he could capitalise on this and turn the situation in his favour. But for some reason, he hesitates; the thought of being cruel to you made his skin shiver in an unpleasent way - oddly. See, Mr Sionis was a criminal, a violent, feral monster who, if he did not get his own way, or was undermined or disrespected, made sure that those were the last things said person would inflict - for disrespecting the King of Gotham's underground was a penalty punishable by death. A slow, torturous death, courtesy of his own cynical ministrations. He was the Black Mask, and the Black Mask felt no mercy. Why should he sympathise when he could not receive such pleasures? Others can't have what he cannot, that simply is not fair, its preposterous. And like the narcissistic bastard he was, he reasoned with this part of himself, convincing the little golden figure sat perched on his right shoulder that he was doing the nice thing by not kidnapping you right now and keeping you for himself. Something about you was different, he could sense it - he recognised the brutal blaze swirling in the depths of your eyes. They reflected his own - murderous. And that's when the little red devil on his left shoulder made their attendance known, reinforcing Romans suspicions. This girl had the devil in her, the same devil within him.

"What?" You asked, incredulously. Roman had been staring at you for longer than was comfortable, and you knew he was deep in thought over something. His eyes flicked like an old VHS tape, his physical thoughts and their direction reflecting in the depths of his scrutiny over you.

Roman grinned at his plan. He had to have you, but he knew now that forcing himself was not an option - he had to wait for you to come to him. And what better way than to get someones attention by no longer wanting it? It was the ultimate power play he thought, his excitement at the idea of you being his under your own intention ignited a blistering fire of self admiration within him - Roman Sionis was a fucking genius he thought, no, he knew.

"Nothing Darling, ciao." He replied smugly, his lips stressing a shit-eating grin at his own devious plan. He waltzed away from you to find Zsazs, desperate to let him in on his incredible plan.

You scoff at your dismissal. The fuck was all that about?

Rolling your eyes, your turn to Alex. You take a second to allow the room to catch up with you, "Did you see that?" You ask Alex, moving your head slightly to the side in a nod towards the now retreated Roman. Alex scoffs, placing a pint of water on the bar in front of you. You cut him a look of displeasure but knew you should probably slow down if you wanted to get back safe tonight.

"That guy, my dear, is Mr Sionis." Alex said, lifting his brows as at your confused look.

"Mr Sionis...right, and he is...?" You say, waving your hands in a confused manner.

Alex looked stunted, but continued to serve a few orders before continuing his conversation with you, "Well, Mr Sionis is the owner of this club."

Your eyes widen at the realisation, "The owner?" You mutter.

"Mhm." Alex hummed, amused.

But the conversation took a new direction, a direction Alex was not expecting.

"Tell me about this Mr Sionis, Alex." You murmur, gliding into your soft, convincing voice you used to get information about men.

"Well, he's the owner of this club, and my boss. He pays well." Alex starts, trying his best to close of the conversation.

"Hmm, yes; but what about him? What type of person is he?"

"I don't think--,"

"Alex," you growl, darkly. Your face dropped the sweet smile it had held before and Alex visibly winced. He knew he couldn't say too much, and he didn't know much either, but he also didn't know you, and if living in Gotham had any perks; he knew those eyes - they were the eyes of someone you did not fuck with if you wanted to keep breathing. So, Alex moved across the bar, leaning in on his elbows so he could whisper to you over the loud music; where only the two of you could be heard.

"He, he has a particular personality - colourful, bold,-" Alex starts, his eyes shifting past your figure a few times to make sure he wasnt being watched, "-Possessive. He gets what he wants - always. And he will do anything to do so, there's no limits with the guy. You fuck up, you're done."

"Done?" You whisper back, leaning in closer to Alex, only a hairs breath away.

Alex stalls, trying to find a way to answer your question without sinking himself to that fate. But he doesn't get the chance to, as you're pulling away and turning towards an unknown figure behind you.

The next few moments were a blur.

The next thing Alex knew, there was a face being buried into the hard mahogany of the bar, and the loud crack of the mans nose being broken shook Alex from his trance.

You moved so effortlessly, your movements only so perfect through hours of repetition. You didn't even stumble, and with the effectiveness of your ruminations, practically no attention was drawn to the now escalating scene at the bar.

"On what fucking planet is it ok to grab anyone like the way you just groped me, huh?" You whispered into your assailants ear. They whined and coughed, shifting under the mounting pressure you were placing at their shoulder. You had grabbed them by the arm the moment you felt their hand sliding across your ass, and the quick pinch had you seeing red - moving through muscle memory and destabilising the man by using his own weight against him. He was now bent over the bar, head buried in broken glass, his shoulder ready to pop at any moment. He was at your mercy and your blood turned primitive. You'd had enough of creepy perverts tonight.

"The fuck is wrong with you lady? It wasn't anythin' bad," The man groans, blood pouring from his nose and staining the white shirt he was wearing.

You pressed harder, muffling the pop of his shoulder joint and his cry of pain with a loud laugh, "Say, Frank - how bout you walk out this club now under your own premise before I have you wheeled out in a bodybag?" You sigh.

"The fuck, how'd you know my name was Frank?" he growled, grunting at the pain.

"Not only are you incredibly rude, but you're also rather obnoxious too, you fucking loser." You sneer, shifting his dislocated shoulder further round. He screamed, but only briefly, as you soon shut him up with a face full of glass.

"Fuck off, Frank, and don't come back."

You release him and he instantly turns and scampers away like the injured hyena he was. Rolling your eyes you turn back to Alex, who's eyes are wide with shock.

"Alex..." You mumble, and he gulps, his eyes searching yours out of panic over what you'll do next, "Just fix me a drink and I’ll be off. Sorry for the mess." You say calmly as if nothing happened. And that's the way it seemed, as no one even batted an eyelid to the violent display from moments ago. Alex says nothing but does as he's told, making you up an extra strong rum and coke. You down the drink and place the glass down.

"Where's the emergency exit?" You ask Alex, and he points to the door behind the bar. You smile, sliding him a small tip - hush money - and exit the building.

You made it about five minutes down the road before things began to get weird - real weird. This wasnt the same type of blurry you got from alcohol, this was colourful, dazy.

"Fuck - that fucker drugged me!" You sneer, words merging together as you propped yourself up against a brick wall. You tried to run over the events in your head, wondering where you tripped up. And then it hit you, the pint glass - when you leaned in to talk to Alex, he’d slipped something in the drink.

"Fu-cckk" You mumble, eyes incredibly droopy now.

You needed to get back to your flat, safety - yes.

But you didn't, as when you tried to move your legs they gave out from under you. This was an incredibly dangerous situation for anyone to be in, especially a young woman on the streets of Gotham. But the drugs worked quickly against your system, and before you had any time to prepare yourself for your inevitable demise, you blacked out

[chokemeanakin]

First Kiss - Anakin Skywalker x gn Reader

Summary: Anakin treats you to your first kiss ;)

masterlist

Read it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22469749

It happened on Tatooine. Anakin didn’t want to come back, but you had begged him to show you where he grew up.

“I grew up with Obi-Wan, travelling the galaxy,” Anakin corrected, a scowl clouding his face. “Not on Tatooine. I was just a slave there.”

“But it’s got your history,” you argued. “It’s where Qui-Gon found you. It’s where you build C-3PO. It’s where your--”

“It’s where my mother died,” he bit, jaw tense and eyes shadowed. “I know.”

“Maybe we could visit her.”

Anakin closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He did that a lot, ever since he came back from the dark side, to calm the anger inside of him. His hands clenched over the controls of the pod, then suddenly relaxed. When he opened his eyes, he was considerably less tense.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I think she’d like that.”

*********************

“I hate sand,” Anakin muttered as he hopped down from the ship. His boots landed on the ground, sending dust to cloud up around him. He swatted it away from his face.

“Oh, quit pouting,” you take his flesh hand, then raise it over your head with both of yours. “You’re home!”

“This is not my home,” he tried to sound angry, but his face softened when he looked at the smile on your face. He could see you were excited-- for what, he still didn’t understand. You would have to stay in the remote parts of the planet because Anakin would never be welcomed back after what he did to the sand people. You wouldn’t even be able to see the market or Jabba the Hut’s pub, or the place he used to live. Not that Anakin ever wanted to go back to any of those places, anyways. They came for one reason-- to see his mother.

Anakin led the way to the grave. It was just a plank of wood sticking up from the sand, so you weren’t sure how he even knew this was hers. But it was the only thing out here for hundreds of miles, and the somber look on his face was proof enough. This was his mother.

You sat on the sand in front of the wooden plank, drawing shapes in the course minerals. You didn’t say anything, and neither did Anakin as he sat down beside you. The silence was comforting, and just being there was enough. Anakin closed his eyes and his face was peaceful.

You watched him, his face unmoving, as you thought about Anakin and his past. This was where his life began, as a slave, working in a junk shop while his mother struggled to get by. He built his own pod and would race because he was good at it. He built his mother a robot so she wouldn’t have to work so hard. He could still speak the language, as sometimes he would mutter what you were pretty sure were swears under his breath in the foreign tongue.

This was where the sweet, unsuspecting, hopeful little kid who loved flying and wanted to be a Jedi grew up with his mother. He had left her to do just that, and that was the beginning of the end. He never got to see his mother again before she died in his arms. The Jedi Council consistently underestimated his power and belittled him. They alienated him from the one thing he was destined to be. No wonder he turned to Darth Sidious, who was the only person who seemed to trust him in those harrowing times. He had fallen, like Icarus from the sun, like an angel from heaven, and fell and crashed and burned.

But now he was back. He was here again, that same sweet, hopeful boy who just wanted to be a Jedi. And he was sitting before you, with his mother-- a family again.

You were there for hours, until the suns began to lower in the sky. A gust of wind blew sand in your direction, and Anakin cracked an eye open.

“We should get to higher ground,” he said, standing and holding his mechanical arm out for you to take. He helped lift you up, and then brought you in close so he could share his cloak with you, shielding you from the sand. “The wind should let up as the suns go down. For now, we can watch them set from the pod.”

The two of you climbed on top of the ship and sat with your legs dangling off the edge, watching the double-suns inch toward the horizon. The sky seemed to bleed when the lower sun crashed into the sandy mountains, but then melted into a melon-orange glow as the higher sun followed in its wake. Soon, the whipping sand clouds calmed and the sky turned to a deep purple, then black, dotted with thousands of stars. You wondered how many times Anakin had watched this sunset as a kid, and if it’s changed at all since then.

“You’ve come a long way,” you told him, breaking the silence. He lowered his head and looked at his hands.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

“But you always come back,” you said. He lifted his head and his eyes connected with yours, but they were far away. He was deep in thought, and there was something warring behind them. Guilt.

“I left you,” he said, and it’s barely above a whisper. “We were friends, but as soon as Padme came along, I left you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You were happy with her.”

“I was happy with you, too.”

The confession caused an eruption of warmth to blossom in your chest. You smiled at him, a genuine, delighted smile, and knocked his shoulder playfully with yours.

“You have me now.”

At this, Anakin lifted his arm and wrapped it around your shoulder. He pulled you close for a moment, then relaxed with his arm still around you. For once in your life, you didn’t move away.

Anakin was warm. You basked in the weight of his arm around your shoulders, the feeling of his torso pressed against your side. Your thighs were touching and you realized that this is what you needed, this is what was missing all along, this warmth. Suddenly, you felt complete.

“Why haven’t you ever been with anyone?” Anakin asked suddenly. You tried to fight back the blush from your face at both the question and the fact that his fingers seemed to be absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm. Suddenly he paused. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you told him, and he resumed the patterns. “I just… have a hard time connecting with people.”

“Because of your mother?”

“Because of my mother,” you confirmed, and he coaxed every bit of information out of you on how your mother was strict and mean and cold and judgmental, and your father watched as she stripped your humanity away. He listened attentively as you told him of the suitors you’ve failed with in the past, and his arm tightened around you.

“I just get nervous,” you frowned, twisting your fingers in your lap. “Like the closer someone gets to me, the more they’re going to realize I actually suck.”

“I don’t think you suck,” Anakin said, his voice that sweet, comforting timbre with a gentle rasp that you loved so much. He always sounded like that when he’s spitting off orders to R2 when piloting, or late at night when he’s half asleep and doesn’t know what he’s saying. He also had that stupidly soft look in his eyes, and that half smile you’ve only ever seen directed at Padme.

God, he’s so pretty, you groaned inwardly, unintentionally tensing up when you realized just how close you were sitting. And he was looking at you so deeply, and man, his eyes can be so intense sometimes-- your face burned and you ducked your head so he couldn’t see.

He caught your chin with his gloved mechanical hand, cradling your chin between his index finger and thumb. He turned your face to look at him straight on, right in the eyes, and all you could see was Anakin. He was so close, and he was getting closer. Your eyes shifted to his lips, the same ones you had fantasized about for years, and hoped he couldn’t notice what you were thinking.

“Have you ever been kissed?” you could feel his breath on your lips, your heart pounding against your ribcage. You blinked madly, breathing erratic, palms sweating. Every single atom in your body was buzzing with energy-- excitement, nervousness, fear. You wanted to pull him in and kiss the living daylights out of him. You wanted to push him away and run as fast as you could until you got to a cliff high enough you could jump off and never wake up. You wanted to explode.

“You’re trembling,” Anakin’s eyes shifted across your figure for a split second. “Do you want me to let go?”

“No,” you begged him, your hands shooting out to hold onto him without your permission. They landed on his thighs, and your face burned harder.

“Do you want this?” his thumb stroke your chin. There was nothing you wanted more.

“Yes.”

You weren’t sure how he even heard you, as you barely uttered the word. But before you could do or say or think anything else, Anakin was leaning in. Your eyes closed on instinct and you felt, very softly, the brush of his lips against yours. The volcano was back in your chest, spurting lava all over your insides as you realized, holy shit Anakin Skywalker’s lips are on mine. Holy shit, Anakin Skywalker is kissing me!

The feather light touch tickled more than anything, and you could feel his mouth twitch into a slight smile as your hands’ grip tightened on his legs.

“This okay?” he pulled back a centimeter to ask. “You want more?”

“Yes,” you said again. It was the only thing you could manage to say, the one syllable word, and you began to wonder just how much of a lost cause you were if a simple brush of his lips against yours could render you brain dead.

He muttered an ‘Okay’ and then brought his flesh hand up to cup your face, fingers sliding along your neck and locking into your hair as his thumb stroked your cheek. You shivered, goosebumps staining every inch of your body with the touch. His gloved hand stayed on your chin, tilting it up toward him for easier access.

You closed your eyes again, and he leaned in, and this time he really, actually kissed you. He applied the slightest bit of pressure, then he did it again, shifting his head and capturing your lips in his, pulling back slowly only to do it again.

You were in heaven.

You forgot to respond at first. All you could think of in your short-circuited brain was how Anakin smelled so good and his lips were so warm and he tasted like the stars. Oh, he definitely knew what he was doing, with the way he was moving his lips and the confidence he did it with. You had no idea what you were doing, so you let instinct take control.

You unclenched one of your fists from his leg and raised it to place on his shoulder, pushing just a bit to get a bit of leverage, get a little bit closer so you could respond in earnest. You opened your mouth and closed it over his lips, your stomach cartwheeling as you hoped you were doing this right. It felt right. It felt good. So you kept doing it, and Anakin’s metal arm dropped from your chin and fell to your waist as you rose onto your knees, hands finally tangling into the soft curls of his hair, kissing him like you’ve wanted to kiss him for years.

When Anakin pulled back for air, you realized just how starved you were for oxygen as well. You didn't even notice. You panted, fingers loosening in his hair, lips tingling and burning. Anakin was looking at you like you were everything he wanted, and his eyes caught the twinkle of the stars. This is right where you belong, you realized, right here in Anakin Skywalker’s giving arms. Your breathing evened out, and you seemed to be thinking the same thing.

You leaned back in.

[storytimewithcort]

Ah My Wolf

Ah My Wolf

Fandom: Elder Scrolls Skyrim

Summary:  Dragonborn becomes curious about wolves...discusses the possibility of engaging in....activities...with Farkas' more feral form. Also, they get tipsy and sneak in Jorrvaskr like they are love crazy teenagers.

Pairing:Farkas x OC (same as previous story)

Warning: lemon! (Those were the days) nsfw fluffy sexy stuff, my sweet wolf man gives it good.

A/n:  Another Farkas Fic. It's got fluff, and smut, and perhaps some more later if there's a cpt 2. Name of The Dragonborn matches my other story too. So you can think of this as the continuation of Téli and Farkas' relationship. Its spicy now!

~~~~~

Part 1,  Sneaking into Jorrvaskr

He felt like a teenager sneaking around. Sneaking girls into Jorrvaskr was something he hadn't done in years, decades even. Yet here he was tripping his way through the darkness, struggling to stay quiet with a lady on his arm.

The night started innocently enough. The girls were tucked into their beds and Lydia agreed to watch over them for the night. Téli had promised to help unload some oak kegs for the tavern in exchange for drinks. Farkas was more than happy to join her. One mead flowed into another and soon their pleasant conversation morphed into shameless flirting.

Flirting then became far dirtier than Farkas thought he'd be capable of. He wasn't typically a horny drunk, nor did he even feel intoxicated, but Téli's suggestive tone was infectious. She may have been shy about her feelings for him at first, but in their time together she had grown quite confident. She now frequently expressed her adoration for him, and her desire for him in other ways. He normally would have been flustered by how open she was with her attraction to him. Yet tonight, he wasn't. When Téli said she wished to strip him down and trace every single inch of him with her tongue, all he could do was grab her by the hand and drag her out of the pub. The sound of his whispered promise to grant her wish echoing in her ear.

They tripped over the benches lining the hall, barely managing to keep themselves upright. Her warm blush and even warmer hands were making it hard to concentrate on anything but how he could get her somewhere private. He almost felt foolish about how they giggled their way to the washroom. Yet, he couldn't feel ashamed as the door to the washroom closed and locked behind them. Téli turned to look at him with her eyes dark and shining.

He let himself be pulled back to her. He let her trail sloppy kisses across his jaw in between giggles. He positively preened as she found her way to his mouth and immediately worked his bottom lip between her own. He let himself unabashedly press himself against her despite the thick leather armor that they both wore.

She quickly understood the predicament, for she started to work on any clasp or tie she could find on his chest piece. It slid over his head as soon as it was loose enough. Two sets of hands quickly worked on her own armor next until Farkas was able to press Téli back against the door and this time feel the curves of her body pressed against him through their thin cottons.

"I found something." Téli laughed. The thought crashed into her mind when Farkas placed a soft bite to her neck.

"Hmm?" He grunted against her skin.

"I found a book in my travels that speaks of a man's relationship with a wolf much like yourself." She spoke softly but he could feel her buzzing with excitement as she spoke. "He wrote all these poems about how he loved his partner...even during the full moon."

When Farkas pulled away to look at her, she simply wagged her eyebrows. "Full moon" she repeated slowly with a honeyed smile.

As she expected, it took Farkas a moment to completely register what she was referring to. His head cocked to the side in a way Téli has seen now hundreds of times. A look of his she was very fond of. She smiled the best she could while fighting her urge to kiss him again. He was always so cute when he looked like that. Then his eyes widened and his mouth went slack, just the corners of his lips quirk up into a smile despite himself.

"You'd want..."he started to initiate the question, but his voice fell flat as he tried to think about it all. He tried to picture it, and he couldn't quite. Certainly couldn't. He didn't understand why she'd want....and he wasn't even...he had not yet tried what she implied, could the beast even...?

A slender and yet calloused hand slips up the back of his neck. Fingers soon tangle themselves in dark hair she was happy to have convinced him to wash that morning. He typically considered the process of hair washing to be unnecessary, but he was doing it more frequently when Téli was around, she did seem to appreciate it.

Téli kissed him gently, letting him slowly fall into the sensation. She could tell she stressed him out at the thought of it. Soothing him with a kiss was in order. After a moment Téli could feel his shoulders drop and his lips more insistent. Pressing himself to her just to feel her, breathe her in. Their kisses grew and grew in intensity until Téli felt the urge to try her suggestion again.

She leaned into him and nestled her lips to the back of his ear. She breathed in his hair and hummed before suddenly she pulled his hair with just enough force to lull his head to the side for a moment before guiding his face back to her lips. She kissed him hard, then trailed kisses up his jaw line.

Her voice was now directly by his ear now. "I'm not saying let's do it right now. I want...I want...." she paused, her other hand grabbing onto Farkas' hip to keep them pressed together more securely. He breathed heavily, twisting his head to kiss and nuzzle her neck. She was so warm against him. On one side her fingers were running randomly though his hair, pulling oh so slightly with every kiss he placed on her neck and shoulder. On the other her fingers press themselves along his hip. "I want," she panted in his ear and Gods, Farkas felt her warm breath shoot from his face directly to his groin. "I want you to be more carefree sometimes. With me. I want to see you as secure in your own strength as I think you are when you're...changed. I want...to try"

The way she was breathing in his ear faltered. She was breathing heavier each moment. She ground her hips against his, shaking. He had never seen Téli so worked up before. He felt unnaturally hard in his cottons. Gods, this woman drove him wild. He knew at that moment he'd be open to literally anything as long as it was with her.

"I want...want you to ravish me. I want to know what it's like to feel all your strength, and passion, and power pulsating inside me. I want your claws running down my back. I..." she paused at the feeling of Farkas grabbing her ass, hard. "I..."

"You talk too much, lassy." He growled, lifting her up and marching to the table in the corner of the room.

Her back hit the table with a thud, before quickly being rolled over. Farkas' hands her on her hips then, pulling her down the table till her legs dangled off, and she found her footing. Now that Téli was obscenely bent over the table, her ass was too inviting. Lowering to his knees behind her Farkas growled, grabbing around each thigh and gripping hard. Téli turned her head to see and was met with a Farkas licking his lips before descending to his goal.

"Fuck" Téli muttered, heart stammering.

"Ravished, hmm?" Farkas chuckled before his tongue tasted the splendor in front of him.

By the morning, Farkas was certain of three things.

One. Téli was a creature of pure wonder. She was his soul. She was his love. She owed him a night of her tracing his skin with her tongue.

Two. The table definitely broke from the ferocity of their love making.

And Three. The entire hall absolutely knew what they did.

Téli on the other hand was focused on one thought as she snuggled Farkas in their makeshift bed of furs and towels.

She was going to fuck a werewolf. Maybe even write a book about it.

~~~

Any monster-f@ckers want a part two?! I'm nervous but excited to write some! ❤

Also posted on my AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32716552/chapters/81166237