#also sorry for everyone who followed here for reblogs and instead got “look at this picture of reala. now look at THIS picture of reala”

[nightsandreala]

reala after jod

[gyuswhore]

Grease (the tragedy)

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.”

jeon wonwoo x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut [minors DNI], fluff, angst, mechanic!wonu, annoyances to lovers, blind date gone wrong but then gone right, kissing, clit stuff, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking (oop), this all happens at a desk LMAO, title is a what I thought was a funny spin on how people say "grease (the musical)"....has nothing to do with the musical though but lots to do with actual grease!!!

synopsis: In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WIFE CAMOTHY @highvern everyone go say happy birthday to cam or ill appear in your room at night 🔫 anygays HAVE FUN READING THIS I hope this is all the sexy wonu content you wanted, I cant wait for your reaction hehehhehe

and also bigbigbigbig thank you to jessifer @the-boy-meets-evil for proofing this for me!!! ily heh

and and to everyone reading this who is not cam, I hope you enjoy reading mechanic!wonu as much as I liked writing him heheh PLS REMEMBER TO REBLOG AND TELL ME UR THOTS it could be in the tags, replies, an ask literally anything!!!! id love to hear what you guys think!!!!

masterlist

 [You]: do you think he died on the way [Liv]: hes still not there??? [You]: what do you think????? [Liv]: let me ask Amelia [You]: dont bother [You]: he can show up whenever he wants im leaving in 5 [Liv]: you promised you’d sit thru this!! [You]: sit thru what? an empty seat across from me???

Liv doesn’t respond immediately, and you immediately know she’s buggered off to ask her cousin why your date still wasn’t here. 

It’s not like you couldn’t have asked him yourself, the sparse textbox sitting just under Liv’s contact. You open it to inspect the contents. 

[liv’s cousin’s something]: Amelia gave me your number [liv’s cousin’s something]: friday night at the sage&salt at 7  [liv’s cousin’s something]: is that okay [You]: uh hey [You]: yeah that’s fine

Today 7:20 PM

[You]: im here?

The first thread of texts were enough to make you feel like this was some cold business meeting instead of a date, knowing wherever this would lead would be either the city dump or off a cliff. Liv was hearing none of it, taking the guilt tripping route, saying she’d already committed and her cousin was irritating enough even without a scuffle.

So when Friday evening came around you’d pulled on the first dress your fingers could find, took all of ten minutes fighting with your makeup to make it look like you did something and left the house with zero expectations. 

Despite that, as you see a man walk into the establishment dressed like he’d gotten into a fight with a squid and a paper shredder, you feel the stone in your chest tank into the abyss. Zero expectations, and he’s somehow managed to strike out anyway. 

The jacket looks like he’s put it on as a weak cover for the grime stains on his shirt and trousers, a couple jet black splatters across the outfit to really pull the whole thing together. It’s not like he looked homeless or anything, his face surprisingly handsome with his hair pushed away from his forehead. Although he remains looking like he’d been playing football in some neighbourhood parking lot before remembering he had an adult appointment too. 

You’d never seen the man in your life, but your gut told you this was the shit texter who’d kept you waiting for nearly an hour. He seems to notice too, eyes locking from across the restaurant as the waitress leads him to your table. 

“Wonwoo,” you greet with a difficult smile, half sure it came out as a grimace. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he huffs as he practically slams back down on the chair, and you wonder for a moment how the legs didn’t give out. He says your name and you nod. “Sorry I’m late, I got a call in the parking lot.”

He’s been in the parking lot this entire time?!

It’s like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, yet somehow needing to give him a shaky reply anyway. 

“O–oh, I see.”

The waitress saves you from spitting in his face when she asks if you were ready to order. 

Dinner was off the table, as you discussed with Liv who forwarded it to her cousin to her–whoever it was that set up this god awful date–and agreed on dessert and perhaps a drink. 

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” you request in an attempt to make this somewhat better. You consider for a moment before asking for a drink as well, “And a dry gin martini, please.”

“Um,” he staggers as he barely skims the menu, ultimately flipping it closed. “I’ll have the same, I guess.”

Deep voice. You might’ve liked that if you weren’t already so peeved. 

The waitress disappears with the menus, leaving you two alone for the first time. 

“So,” you start with an exhale. “How do you know Amelia?”

“Her husband.”

“I see.”

Silence. 

“How do you know her husband?”

He sighs like this is all inconveniencing him, and it irks you to an irrespective degree. Like you wanted to be here either. 

“He brings his car to the workshop alot, became friends somewhere along the line.”

“Workshop?”

He looks a little startled, cocking his head to the side. “I’m a mechanic? Did Olivia–was it–not tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

It’s silent yet again as the man across from you refuses to elaborate. You curse as you ask him a follow up question. If there was anything you hated more than shouldering a dead conversation, it was sitting through an awkward silence. 

One hour. You’d sit through this for one more hour and then you’d leave. 

“What kind of cars do you work on?”

“Expensive ones,” he answers. You might’ve kicked yourself if he’d ended it at that, but he continues with a purse of his lips. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it. Vintage pieces too.”

“Have I heard of it?”

“The cars?”

“No, I mean,” you let out a breath. “Your workshop.”

“Jeon Motors, just a couple streets down actually.”

You did know what he was talking about, not expecting to recognise it through the empty question, passing by it on multiple occasions in this part of the city.

“Oh, I’ve seen it a few times.”

“Yeah, we’ve been there for a while.”

“Family business?”

“Uh–sort of.” 

“Okay,” you sigh in an irritated laugh. This was going to be a very difficult hour. “Keep that to yourself too.”

“Is there a problem?”

Just as you lift your eyes to lock with his, a ready yes, there is actually a problem on your tongue, there’s an intrusion. 

“Here are your chocolate cakes,” the waitress places the cakes down, and then the drinks. “And your dry gin martinis. Do you guys need anything else?” By the time the waitress is gone you’ve somewhat forced yourself to put that sudden surge of flames out, to a degree at least. 

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing his glass and downing nearly half the contents. He emerges, wiping a bit of a spill from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Hm?” He’s speaking to you with a very weird surge of intensity, and it confuses you.

“Neither of us wanna be here. You’re clearly trying to be hospitable but I’d really rather you not, especially when we’re both doing this to get our respective ticks off our hides.”

There isn’t much you can do but stare at him. 

“Have I misjudged your advances?” he asks over his glass, sharp eyes piercing. 

“No!” you yelp, reaching for your drink yourself, taking big sips only to emerge sputtering and heaving. 

Your date looks like he’s rising out of his chair when you raise a hand to stop him. 

“No,” you repeat, less jumpy this time. “I guess we could’ve cleared that out from before.”

Did he…snort?

“Sorry.” Dropping his chin to his chest, he composes himself. 

“What?” you ask, remaining annoyed as ever. 

“Nothing.”

That does it. You slam your now empty glass down on the table, slipping your fork out of the napkin a little forcefully, the metal glinting in the light of the restaurant. You dig into a corner of the cake and shove it in your mouth. 

If he was gonna be rude, you could be too. 

“I don’t know about hospitable.” You swallow. “But I assumed not being an ass was kind of an unwritten rule for any situation really. Including the ones you’d rather not be in.”

Wonwoo stares at you with a blank face, his cake untouched. “I’m being an ass. My laugh couldn’t have offended you that much.”

“So you did pick that up,” you comment. “With the way this conversation’s going I would’ve thought it flew right over your engine.”

“I’d argue your laugh was the least offensive thing you’ve done tonight.” You plunge your fork into your cake again. “But clearly we’re in different realms of etiquette.”

Your eyes meet the rough stains on his attire, and then his own that bore into yours like a challenge. The cake isn’t too sweet, rich just the right amount and texturally sound. Maybe something good did come out of this fiasco. 

“Okay fine,” he announces, sitting up straighter. “I apologise.”

“For laughing?”

“And for being obscenely late.”

“And?”

“And…” he genuinely looks like he’s struggling to figure it out, but catches your eyes flickering to his tattered and stained outfit. “And for my entirely inappropriate dressing sense. You’ll have to forgive me for that one, oil and grime are my spoils of war.”

“Wear it like a badge, mister mechanic, but perhaps somewhere it’s appreciated.” 

Wonwoo has already finished his drink, his cake remaining untouched. “You’re quite adamant on disliking me.”

“And you’re quite adamant on being a horrid conversationalist.”

The corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit. Opening his mouth to respond, you cut him off. “Cars don’t talk? Or perhaps, machines are easier to understand?”

“More like I don’t care to be personable.”

“That can’t be good for business.”

“The cars speak for themselves.”

He’s a weird one. Even more so when he offers to pay the entire bill, promising you he wasn’t lying when he said he was good at what he does, and to “make up for lost personality points.” You manage to pay your half anyway, considering the circumstances. 

“Can you at least let me drive you home?” Wonwoo asks as you both step out of the establishment soon after. 

“Depends.” You fix the strap of your bag. “Will it fall apart on the highway?”

The blaring white of the restaurant's outdoor lights backlight Wonwoo to make him look like some sad angel. He turns to you, the same slight smirk that seems to be plastered on his face. “Why don’t you find out?”

“What do you mean sell it? I got this thing a year ago!” 

There isn’t much you can do but sigh loudly as you listen to Olivia talk about the state of her car, the one that cost too much to justify but she seemed to use and abuse like a very replaceable toy truck. 

Leaning against the hood of the darn thing, you talk to her. “The dealership is giving you a shit deal to take it off your hands, you might as well try your luck.”

The look on her face is easy to read as she silences. Not convinced in the slightest, waiting for the conversation to end just so she could figure it out on her own. Sighing loudly, you look back to the dark beauty with a crate of issues that make it spit and sputter to a stop every few weeks. 

“How much did you say the repairs cost again?”

“Enough to put me on food stamps,” she whines through her frustration, tears pricking against her eyes as they glisten under the neighbourhood streetlights. “Why are you smirking like that?!”

“It’s just,” you pause as you consider your next words, pressing your lips together. “This is a little bit your fault.”

Lies, it was entirely her fault. 

Liv stares like you’ve just offended her, which you’re sure you have.

“Care to share how this possible bankruptcy could be my fault?"

“Because you drive the thing like you have a secret reserve buried somewhere in Tenerife.”

“My apologies for making a habit of not being a public nuisance and going forty on a national highway.”

“Your speed-o-metre is not the issue here.”

“Yes, of course, everything’s my fault.”

“Liv, please!” You groan loudly. “Just…let’s try putting up a listing tomorrow. Consider the prospects and you can decide from there.”

Sagging her shoulders and stretching her neck, Liv decides to simply trudge back indoors in silence. You take it as a begrudging yes, and follow her inside. 

That very night, when you were at the very cusp of falling into the dark space of sleep, your brain re-awakens before your eyes do. A jolt as the memory comes back to you of the many months ago, sitting in that restaurant across from a man who was too handsome for the personality he seemed to sire. 

“Expensive ones,” he had said. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it.”

How fitting. 

“Are you going to explain or should I explode instead?” 

You’d mentally prepared for the bombardment of accusations from Liv, her questioning perfectly right as you yourself cringed at the thought of showing your face here of all places. The one last one that’d officially banned her from ever setting you up with an individual of her choosing ever again. 

Hearing only silence as her answer, she appeals; “I thought he was the worst date of your life.”

“Nothing to do with his skills as a mechanic,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact. 

“And everything to do with this being a horrible idea anyway!” Liv stares up at the sign on top of the garage. Jeon Motors. “What makes you think this guy can fix my car?”

What did make you think he could fix Liv’s car? If you’d known you might have given her an answer, but as you stare at the giant signboard that you’ve driven past for longer than you can remember, you can’t help but feel this place has been haunting you. Just a little. 

You can’t help but feel the tingle of goosebumps rise on your skin, the hairs across the expanse standing up at the thought of walking inside. There was no way you could differentiate the reaction from plain nerves or from the cringing drills that sound all the way outside the establishment. Regardless, you make an attempt to look confident as you make your strides into the pungent of the workshop. 

The first thing you note is how…clean everything is. Cleaner than any other workshop you’ve walked into anyway. 

The interior is bigger than it looks from the outside, the ginormous hall hosting about a dozen cars within your eyeshot alone. One side of the great hall holds an array of parked cars in different stages of dismantled and deconstructed, while the other side is lined with contraptions that look like stripped and enlarged elevators. 

Once you’ve inhaled a beyond recommended amount of smoke fumes and listened past all of the clanging, banging and sparks, you register the people that are elbow deep in the hoods of the vehicle they’re working on, enough to leave you and Liv standing at the entrance of an establishment that you can barely make sense of. 

“Can I help you?” A man in stained beige overalls approaches your wide eyed pair, face half covered in his baseball hat and hands occupied with a rag. 

To your slightest dismay, it isn’t the man you’re looking for.

“Uh– is Wonwoo here?” you ask. 

“He’s in a meeting right now. Are you a friend?” 

No, just a failed love interest.

“He,” you falter. If you weren’t a friend…then what were you? “He gave me his card.”

“Do you need help with your car?”

“Mine, actually,” Liv pipes. “It’s outside if you wanna take a look first.”

With one sweeping look across the warehouse, your eyes land on one of the few doors on the left. You register the plain look of it for barely a moment before joining Liv outside. 

By the time her car has been rolled and parked inside for a more thorough inspection, it’s taken you every last grain of your willpower to not stalk back out and wait in your car. For whatever reason, you can’t help but feel a very familiar spasm of irritation spark through you. Here you are, left anxiously waiting for the same man for a second time, merely feet away but remaining occupied with more important things. 

At the very least, the multiple hands prodding around the car’s engine were being somewhat of use, attempting to survey the same issues that had been looked at about a dozen times before. You silently promise to be a better person if this trip wouldn’t be for vain.  

“Am I late for something again?” 

Your throat is suddenly clogged as you open your mouth and no sound graces your presence. The face that meets you has his eyebrows raised as he stares at you in expectation, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

“W–Wonwoo, hi, um.” You clear your throat loudly, heat cursing your cheeks. “No, of course not.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure after…four months?” he asks, hands on his hips and his back straightened.

“I…my friend’s car needed to be looked at so…”

“Ah, of course!” He turns to where you’ve motioned, looking at the popped hood of the car his employees are working on. “I’ll take a look at it myself, don’t worry about it.”

He’s already walking away, towards the car and leaving you a ways away from the action. You stare at his back; the overalls tied at the waist and the stained white T-shirt that clings to his form from the humidity.

Wonwoo remains a man of a few words, and you remain at wits end about it all. 

A loud honk gives you something to do as you jump at the sound so up close, scrambling to move away from the smack centre as another car pulls into the garage. 

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.” Wonwoo snickers from his place hunched over the hood as he cranes his neck to look at you. 

You walk over to where he is to get out of the way. “Was that meant to sound like an innuendo?”

“I was talking about the occasional running over someone’s foot,” he answers. “Not sure what you were thinking.” 

Ignoring the jab, you note that it was now only you and him crowding the car, “Where’s Olivia?”

“Went to look at spare parts.” You watch him as his gloved hands reach further into the enclave and yank at something hard. 

“So you can fix it?” 

“The car? It’ll take a couple days but it’s not really an issue.”

Furrowing your brows, you press on, “But the dealership—”

“Dealerships are the spawn of the devil,” he grunts as he finally wrenches out a spare nut or bolt or something that’s covered in oil. “Let me guess, they wanted her to sell it back to them?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Yes. They tried fixing it, but it'd just stop again.”

“Because they’ve been fixing the symptoms.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, hands occupied with rubbing the part in his hands relatively clean with a rag. “They haven’t bothered to do anything about the actual problem.” 

“Because that’s gonna cost…?”

“Couple hundred, give or take,” he announces nonchalantly, turning his focus back to the engine. 

“But—” That’s it?

“Fifty extra for every question I have to answer after this.” You briefly wonder if Wonwoo’s eyes were always this piercing, boring into your soul like he didn’t need words to know what was going on with you. 

“Fine,” you huff, moving to drag a chair over, mostly just so you could have reason to break eye contact, and plop down as you watch him work. 

The more you think about it, the more you can find yourself unbothered by his strange behaviour. He wasn’t bleak, but nowhere near one of the more interesting people you’ve met. Taking the opportunity to really scan the man head to toe, you can’t say you find anything truly concrete to be this put off by him. 

Not much of a talker, but with the times you’ve prayed for a man that knew when to shut up sometimes, you wonder how much you can actually complain about this boon in particular. 

Besides, he was a looker, and you were completely content shutting your trap if it meant you got to shamelessly ogle at him from this close. 

“You know, this place looks bigger than it does from the outside.”

Wonwoo stares pointedly. 

You raise a shoulder in nonchalance, “Wasn’t a question!”

He simply huffs as he mumbles, “More length than breadth I suppose.”

“What are those things called?” you ask as you watch a sedan get lifted into the on some platform on the other end of the row. 

Glancing back, he answers, “Post lift, car lift, whatever you wanna call it.”

“What does it do?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Touché.” 

Glancing back at him, you catch sight of his stained shirt once again. “Is that the same thing you wore to our date?”

Chin to chest, he registers what he’s wearing, hands still working on pulling bolts and boxes out of the hood. “Have about twenty of the same shirt, I can never be too sure.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks, “Touché.” 

You questioned if this was a mistake. 

Olivia could pick up her car herself, so why did you insist to be the one that did it? As you pay the taxi driver, you feel your ankles lock for a moment as you move to slip out of the cab. Frozen, you hear the driver ask you if everything was alright, to which your legs seem to work again, finally foot to gravel in front of the dreaded workshop.

The Jeon Motors sign blares the same as it always has in the afternoon light, glinting as it encourages you to walk in and do one of the stupider things you’ve done in life. Other than the ridiculous outfit you’ve put on, of course. 

But alas, as you hand over your slip to one of the many mechanics in the workshop, you find yourself praying he wasn’t here after all, that perhaps you could miss him as you leave and never have to see him again. 

Somebody yells out his name, and the dream drifts away like smoke. 

Finding the courage, you look up to where the man shouted for him, and immediately wish you hadn’t. 

Wonwoo remains in his overalls, the same ones that he had tied to his waist the last time you saw him. His undershirt however…

The tank top is revealing too much for you to pretend you don’t care, his hair remaining pushed back and away from his forehead as he walks over to you in what feels like slow motion. He takes the slip that he does not need, smiling at you as he says his hellos. 

“Car’s all fixed up, just need some papers that need signing and you’re all set.”

“Oh, but Liv isn’t here today.”

“That’s alright, you can sign them too,” he reassures, motioning for you to walk with him towards the car. “The car was alright in the test drives, revving hasn’t caused any problems either.”

He halts in front of the now (supposedly) fixed black sedan and pats the hood lightly, “If anything happens tell her to bring it straight here, although it shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“What’s your rate of return on customers?” you ask, a slight smirk on your face.

He thinks for a moment, “Pretty crap. But I guess that means I’m doing something right.”

You consider yourself something of a helicopter parent when it comes to your own car, but perhaps you’d change that if it meant you’d get to come here a little more often. 

Goodness, what’s gotten into you.

Wonwoo’s smiling too, and for a brief moment the silence is nearly awkward. A pause before he proposes leaving. 

“Shall we go to the office then?” 

Nodding eagerly, you trail behind him as he leads you towards the other end of the workshop, passing by even more cars in all their stripped or constructed glory. Glancing in front, you catch sight of Wonwoo’s back, ensnared for a moment before you snap your head away, reciting every curse word you know like a mantra. 

“It’s less hot in here too, keep the air on all the time.” Wonwoo stands in front of the plain doors, hands on the handle to wrench it open. You recognise it as the same door you had noted a few days ago. “Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Um, just water is fine, thanks.”

It’s quite plain, beige and leather against cream walls and unfittingly white lights. There’s a desk on one corner that’s beyond cluttered with more papers than you can register, pens and other office supplies mixed into the disorganised chaos of the large tabletop.

“Sorry about the mess, I can never find time to sort through it.” To your surprise, the light tinge of his cheeks suggest he might actually feel a little embarrassed. 

Cute. 

There’s cabinets that line on one of the far walls, and you watch him take his gloves off to open it and reach for a cup. The white porcelain emerges stained with an ashy grey as his fingers betray him. He looks flustered, glancing at his hands and back up to the cabinet. 

You can’t help but laugh a little, moving forward to help. “It’s alright, let me.”

“Sorry,” he apologised again, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll, um, wash this off.”

“Go on, I’m here,” you reassure as you move towards the water dispenser in the corner to fill your clean cup. 

He returns with significantly cleaner hands and apologises one last time. “Seems all I do around you is apologise.”

You have the good humour to chuckle, “So I’ve noticed.”

He does well to clear out most of the clutter that’s on his desk, leaving enough room to set down a few pieces of paper as you take a seat on the opposite side. 

As you scan through the papers, he attempts to make sober conversation. “You should…bring your car around for inspections if you want.”

“Oh? Even if I ask a million questions?”

“I can make an exception or two,” he grins. 

“And if you charge me double?”

“Might not charge you at all.”

“Might?” you question as you lift the pen he’d given you to sign the first space. 

“Might.”

“And what’re the conditions for that?” 

He doesn’t answer as he ponders and you fill in the second blank. “I’ll have to think about that.”

You snort before you can help it, your last signature coming out a little wonky as your hands shake. Turning the papers over to him, you continue, “Well then, let me know when you figure it out.”

He stares pointedly as he accepts the papers before dropping his eyes again, “Can I?”

“Hm?”

“Can I? Let you know?” 

It’s like you’ve been frozen over, the typewriter in your mind jamming as it punches out the implications of what he’s saying. 

“It seems, at least to me, that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he continues. 

You hesitate. “I think so too.”

“I…I don’t want to put anything like pressure on you but–” 

“Would you like to try the new gelato place downtown this week?” you ask finally as you save him from his misery. “If…you’d like.”

He looks stunned for a moment before he’s scrambling, “Oh–of course! Yes, anytime is fine with me.”

“Great,” you smile, lifting from your seat. “It’s a date.”

“I’ll promise to wash my hands this time…and my shirt. And I won’t be late.” 

“Let’s not make promises we can’t keep,” you tease. 

You’re nearing the door as he follows behind, and just as you’re about to pull down on the handle, you hear him say your name. 

Turning around, almost too eagerly, you look up at him in expectation. He’s close, almost right behind you as he looks like he’s debating whether opening his mouth is a good idea. 

“Are you doing anything else today?” 

“Um,” you stutter for a moment. “I don’t have to drop off the car till later tonight, that’s all really.”

He swallows. “Do you wanna stay? Just a little while. We can stay in here, nobody comes in anyway.”

You aren’t entirely sure why you said yes, because you did actually have dinner plans with Liv later tonight, but the teeny tiny voice in your mind egged you on anyway. Besides, Liv wouldn’t mind, not if you were cancelling for this.

This entailed the very friendly contact of Wonwoo’s tongue in your mouth, and the extremely cordial way it seemed to caress your insides. If somebody asked you how it led to this, you don’t think you’d have an answer. Not that you care, especially when his hands are grabbing your waist and hips like that.

He’s already locked the door, reassuring you that nobody would find their boss and client in the smack dab middle of the devil’s tango. You take his word for it, relishing in the way his hot breath hits your skin below your ears, his mouth sucking under your earlobes as you whimper ever so quietly. 

Your hands are on his exposed biceps, feeling him up all to your heart's content. “Do you–Do you always wear stuff like this?”

He emerges, wet lipped and eyes trained. “So I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Imagining what?” you ask as you let him unbuckle your trousers.

“Please. Like you weren’t stripping me with your eyes.”

If you were warm before you, you're boiling up now. Were you being so obvious?

“It’s alright,” he reassures as you feel his fingers make contact with the crotch of your panties, pushing in to put pressure on your clit. “Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t picked up on it.”

You feel his fingers push the dampening fabric away as his fingers make contact with your hole, coating his fingers in the arousal that’s made itself known. It’s hard to not hiss at the way he begins to circle it, thanking the universe that the loud noises of the workshop outside were masking whatever evidence of the heinous crime you were committing inside. 

Back against the couch in his office, you settle into the cushions once you feel him rub at your clit, one hand spreading your lips apart as he continues to massage your own wetness onto your throbbing cunt. 

When he retreats you almost cry out, but are smothered when he plunges two fingers into your hole instead, curling them almost immediately inside you. The consistent brush of the tips of his fingers on your walls are making it difficult to keep your eyes open, and absolutely impossible to keep your moans at bay. 

“Wonwoo, that’s so good, fuck.”

Through your closed eyes, you don’t note when Wonwoo gets on his knees. But you do feel him yank your trousers off entirely, and you definitely feel him place his wet mouth flush on your lower lips, sucking at your clit as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you mercilessly. 

That’s all it takes for your noises to become increasingly high pitched, hands buried in his beautiful hair as he continues to pleasure you beyond imagination. 

“I’m so close, keep going, please, it feels so–”

He somehow buries his face in deeper, sucking harder, licking faster, and it’s enough for you to finally feel yourself collapsing on the inside, your composure dissolving as you moan so loud you’re sure they can hear it outside, even through all the clanging and revs of cars. 

There’s no way for you to know how long you lay there slumped against the couch cushions, but when you hear Wonwoo speak to you in your ear, you answer. 

“Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you say as you grab his face and pull his lips to yours, tasting the tang in his mouth from your arousal. “Do you have a condom?”

“I–fuck,” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I do.”

You try not to feel too disappointed, but you sigh into his mouth anyway. 

“Can I fuck your thighs?” you hear him ask, and you might have just orgasmed again, untouched. 

“Fuck, yes you can.” 

With a yelp, you feel yourself lifted off the couch as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, letting him guide you to his desk. “Wonwoo!”

You hear a loud crash of the desk being stripped of all its inhabitants, and your back hitting the cool of the table top. 

Wonwoo unties the arms of his overalls around his waist, letting the legs pool to the floor before slipping his hard cock out of his boxers. 

You don’t see it as you feel him lock your knees together and lift both your calves to rest on one of his shoulders. But you do feel it as he pushes the head into the seam of your thighs, watching the indent as the pink of his dick appears before you through the skin of your thighs. 

Wonwoo’s face is contorted as he pulls back and pushes back through again, this time brushing against your still sensitive clit. You gasp at contact, and immediately feel him thrusting faster. 

“Wonwoo,” you grunt. “Lower.”

He obliges, pushing his dick lower so it can rub flush against your clit as he begins to roughen up his pace. 

You moan as you feel his free hand that isn’t holding your legs trail to the ends of your shirt, caressing over your stomach to pull it up and reveal your bra clad tits. He pushes his hands under the nearest cup and begins to grope you so wonderfully with his big, warm hands. Rolling the bud between his fingers, you can only grasp onto his wrists as a handheld to keep you down on earth. 

The desk beneath you is rattling with noise, the full drawers making themselves known as Wonwoo pounds into your thighs like he would die if he stopped, mouth coming in contact with whatever skin of your legs he could reach, his breath fanning the side of your knees. 

You’re close again, and you know he is too with the way his thrusts are beginning to grow sloppy. 

“There,” he pants. “Almost.”

You orgasm for the second time, the throb your clit beyond comprehension as the rough of his dick slides across your clit mercilessly. 

“Cum like this, Wonwoo please I need to see you cum.”

And he does, shooting the heft of his load to cover your already wet cunt and thighs, landing on your stomach as he continues to ride out his high between your legs. 

The back of your head hits the table as you take in gulps of air through the aftermath of it all. Wonwoo is putting his weight on the back of your thighs, holding onto the table for support. 

“Oh, Liv is never gonna let me live this down,” you pant, lolling your head to one side as you register him. 

He peers up at you through his hair, the stupid smirk on his face, “Do you care?”

You’re smiling a little too when you answer, “Not really.”

And then your legs are off his shoulders as he nestles between them instead, diving in to lift your head and kiss you. 

And you let him, although you wouldn’t really call it too much of a kiss—not when the both of you were smiling like idiots through the clash. 

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Y’all are the best. Seriously. I love y’all. One quick note: if y’all reblog, please include the tag “#if I should stay” (mind the capital i) so people can find the rest of the parts! Thanks so much!!! ❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Eddie does end up following Robin because he does not, in fact, have a death wish.

Even if, apparently, he dies in the future. Go figure.

She instructs him to grab his guitar. “Why in the fuck,” he starts, then reconsiders when Robin whips around to stare at him. “Anyone ever tell you you’re terrifying?”

Robin shrugs a shoulder. “Not as much as they should.”

She stashes her bike in the back of his van and directs him to the Harrington residence, where Steve’s waiting, arms crossed, wondering smile on his face. “Miracle worker,” he calls, and Robin laughs as she grabs her bike from the back.

“Hate to break it to ya, Dingus, but you’re just not scary.”

“I’m plenty scary. I’ve got a nail bat.”

“Right, because that would beat Nance’s sawed-off in a fight.”

“Hey, it could! You never know! They’ve got different ranges!”

Robin rolls her eyes at Eddie, like she’s asking if he can believe it, which. No. No he can’t.

“Sorry,” he says, regretting everything when they both look at him. “What the actual fuck is happening?”

“Come inside,” Steve says, suddenly all business. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.” His eyes find Robin’s. “One of ‘em took Barb last night.”

“Fuck,” Robin whispers.

“Yup. Will’s been missing for two days. Maybe, if we get down there soon enough…”

“Let’s hope so. Which one of the rugrats found El?”

“I think they all did? But Mike’s the one who took her in.” He shakes his head, mouth a grim line. “I saw Dustin today. They’re kids, Robs.”

“So are we,” she reminds him, heaving a tired-sounding sigh. “A buncha kids fighting real-life monsters.”

“Monsters?” Eddie parrots.

Somehow they end up inside while Steve goes to pick up the Party. Who the party is, Eddie doesn’t know. Just like he doesn’t know why he’s in Steve’s Harrington’s house with someone who isn’t Steve Harrington.

“Who’s the Party?” He asks Robin. “And why am I here again? If I die, doesn’t that mean I shouldn’t be here? Should be somewhere far, far away instead?”

“The Party’s a group of kids Steve babysits. They’re the first ones to go through this whole mess. And admittedly, you’re here partially because you can help, and partially for selfish reasons.” She offers him a lopsided grin. “Believe it or not, watching you die was kinda traumatic.”

“Right,” he says slowly. “And you and Steve? How do you know each other? He and Nancy Wheeler are the talk of the town, and if he’s stepping out-”

“He wouldn’t,” she says harshly. “Ever.” She takes a breath. “Two years from now, or a year ago, he and I work together in a mall. Long story short, we get captured and tortured by Russians. High on truth serum, I tell him I’m a lesbian in the bathroom, we help take down the big bad, and boom. Instant platonic soulmates.”

Eddie gapes at her. “What the fuck.”

“Just about,” she nods. “Oh, and the kids love D&D, so you’ll have plenty to talk about. They’re little shits but they’re also kinda great once you get to know them.”

Eddie stares at her. The front door opens, and Steve walks in, followed by a gaggle of preteens and Nancy Wheeler.

“Robs,” Steve says, not slowing his stride as he begins taking the stairs two at a time. “Bathroom. Now.”

Robin grimaces. “Breakdown time,” she murmurs to Eddie, then follows Steve, leaving everyone else staring at each other.

“So,” Eddie says. “I heard you like D&D?”

A dark-haired kid who looks suspiciously like Nancy narrows his eyes. “You play?”

“Play!” Eddie repeats. “I don’t just play, my young friend, I am the greatest Dungeon Master this side of the Mississippi.”

A curly-haired kid begins to grin. “I think we should put that to the test.”

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[pinkdaisies9285]

Flyboy and the Florist-3

Bob Floyd x F!Reader

Warnings: None except our nervous WSO, Fluff

Word Count: 830

Author's Note: Here's the next part! This one is a little longer than the others but its one of the most important moments for our little couple! Also, I hid another hint of how reader feels about Bob in here and her nickname/callsign! Again I love talking with you guys so please reblog/comment/ask about this story!

Maybe taking his two best friends to meet his crush was a bad idea. Bob was already sweating bullets about finally asking her out and maybe bringing two people known to embarrass Bob was not the way to do this. It was too late anyway. Natasha was driving, Bob was in the passenger seat, and Bradley was in the back. Honestly, Bob felt like he was going to throw up. The butterflies in his stomach had become aggravated. Would he be successful this time? Or would he come home with another bouquet of blush tea roses and what she calls dwarf sunflowers? He wasn’t sure.

Natasha noticed the grey storm cloud that was hovering over Bob. She knew that whoever this florist was, she was making her backseater question his every decision. “Bob, I’m sure you’ll get her number this time. Okay?”

This made him turn his head to face his partner. “Are you sure? For the past two weeks, I’ve tried to conjure up the words and instead, I just word vomit in front of her.”

“Is it that bad Bobby boy?” Bradley asked while leaning on the center console. He didn’t think anything could rattle the WSO except Jake’s jabs at him during a drunken round of pool. “Is this florist that daunting? Is she scary or somethin’?”

The question made Bob think about her. She wasn’t at all daunting. She was alluring and beautiful in ways that Bob couldn’t explain. It made Bob feel like a complete fool. How could he go for a girl who is so beautiful and kind like her? Either way, he knew that if he got her number and asked her out on a date, he would feel more successful than what happened with the uranium mission.  A curt stop shook him out of his thoughts. Natasha had parked in the of the shop. The sign hung in the window. It said “Apotheca Blooms” with botanical and celestial motifs surrounding it. “Is this the place?” asked Bradley while stepping out of Nat’s car. He was surprised that the “supposed” daunting florist had a shop that looked warm and cozy. He was expecting something entirely else. “Yep. Let’s hope today is the day.” Bob said with a somewhat hopeless sigh. He was going back to the thought that this was a bad idea. Would his friends be great wingmen/wingwomen? Or would they make the situation worse? Well, it was too late to figure that out because Nat and Bradley were already through the door. Bob quickly followed after the chaotic duo hoping that everything would go smoothly.

Walking in, the three of them started looking around. Natasha found a whole section of bath salts and bath bombs that were already calling her name. Bradley was taking everything in from the flowers to the table of crystals. Bob was looking for the reason he came. 

“Are you finding everything okay?” said a voice coming from behind the table full of bouquets.

“Ahhh!” Bradley yelped while searching for the voice. The florist came around the table to greet everyone. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said while looking at the trio. She was surprised to see two new faces alongside Bob. 

Bradley at that moment decided to get a look at the woman that was haunting Bob. What he saw was a woman that he didn’t think Bob would for based on appearances but he knew that appearances can be deceiving. “More surprised than scared. I didn’t see you hiding in all that flora and fauna.” Bradley answered back while chuckling.

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time I surprised a customer. I’ve been told a have quiet footfalls.”She said while showing her captivating smile. “Either way, how can I help you folks?”

“Well I’m here for some bath salts which I already found and this guy is just here for the ride,” Nat replied while pointing her thumb over to Bradley. The florist nodded when she looked over to Bob.

“Hi, Bobby. How are you?”

“I’m-m great! How are you? Did you ever get that new tea blend figured out?”

“I did! You should definitely try it, I think you’ll like it.” She immediately answered the WSO’s question with delight.

This is when Nat and Bradley realized something that Bob didn’t. The florist already liked him and he was missing all the signs. Nat decided to elbow Bob in the side to get him to stop avoiding the main reason they were there. Bob recognized this so he decided now or never. “Umm, actually I came here for something else.”

“Oh? What is it Bobby?” she asked while tilting her head.

Taking a deep breath, Bob thought out his next words carefully. He knew he couldn’t keep buying more flowers for zero reason. He had to make you see that he could treat you right and more.

“Well, I was wondering if I could take you out for a date.” 

Tag List: @attapullman @seresinhangmanjake @3tabbiesandalab @nerdgirljen @bobgasm @muddwheelz123 @tgmavericklover @jessicab1991 @havlindzk @tgmreader @charactersimp08 @just-in-case-iloveyou @theamuz

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[moreespressoformydepresso]

Okay so to add to this post from yesterday:

I’m writing this right after posting that one so if somebody reblogs with something similar to this I promise I did not see it before writing this. I just wanted my full on fix it and this is how I managed to forcefully make it happen:

What if, just like in the book, the tributes didn’t have a bloodbath? If you wanna be very optimistic, what if none of the tributes had died yet but had been brought closer by the… unusual events surrounding their stay, and were just a little bit less enthused about the idea of killing each other? We’re ignoring the rabies. The tributes got close enough fast enough for them to save Reaper from getting bitten or that stupid bat was knocked out by slamming into the shaking sides of the cattle car before it could bite Jessup.

We all know Gaul’s a murderous piece of never before seen insanity, and it’s pretty clear (to me at least) that she was simply looking for an excuse to release the snakes. Well, what if she was just the teensiest bit too excited about that? When nobody has died in over a day because everyone is actively avoiding conflict (maybe Treech pulled a Peeta and convinced the pack to wait with attacking Lamina or something to piss Gaul off even further) she goes on the big screen to tell people she’ll nobly make sure the districts receive their punishment no matter how hard they try to rebel and sicks the snakes on them. Joke’s on her! They’re not stupid and once one person gets to higher ground everybody else follows. The tank is placed somewhere on flat ground so Lamina gets to stay on her beam and maybe Treech joins her so they can reconcile. Some older kids grab the younger ones to get the heck out of dodge so everyone’s in a safe spot.

As in my previous post, none of the tributes can be reached. Therefore, the snakes decide to get their share of flesh from the next closest thing: the peacekeepers. They don’t even have a chance to call for help, and there are no cameras that film their deaths so nobody even realizes nobody’s guarding the arena until it’s too late. Again, the cold night kills all of the snakes and provides the time frame that ends up causing the utter embarrassment to the Capitol that is the 10th Hunger Games.

This time, it’s Circ and Teslee, even the smart cookies, who notice the snakes all on the hunt towards the same spot and investigate. They immediately run back with their findings and the tributes spread the word from person to person in minutes. All strategizing is done in the cameras’ blindspots in a soft enough tone to not be caught by the microphones. Lamina hears that the only obstacle left is the lock when she “trades” with Reaper to buy everyone time and suggests going to Treech, since he knows how to pick locks. Teslee and Circ point out the camera near the entrance, so they decide that it’s better to be safe than sorry here and come up with a plan.

After some back and forth, Lucy Gray brings up that the games are all for entertainment, which gives Coral an idea (coralbaird alarm coralbaird alarm they are chaos gremlins). What if they have a few tributes fight? That would draw attention towards the fight and away from the entrance. They’ll do it early to prevent anyone from realizing the guards are dead. A few others will signal towards the cameras to try and convince their mentors to send supplies so they have some time to find a hideout and plan before food and water become pressing issues.

Panlo volunteers to be part of the fight, since his mentor is a dickhead. The chances of Gaius sending him anything substantial are so low they’re kissing the earth’s core. Reaper also volunteers, and Treech tries to before he’s reminded that he’s supposed to be picking the lock. So he instead volunteers to stay last with Lucy Gray since they had the most donations. Clearly the audience loves them, so they’ll perform together while everyone else gets out and then slip out of sight from the cameras. Teslee and Circ will hack the cameras from the outside and move them subtly while the distractions are happening so that the blind spots are big enough for the tributes to manoeuvre past. Wovey and Bobbin leave during the night, knowing their mentors won’t send them much. Someone needs to make sure that possible replacement guards don’t foil the plan by taking them out if necessary. They have the dead guards’ guns and no peacekeeper would expect to be shot, especially not from the outside of the arena.

In the end, it’s Panlo vs Reaper vs Sabyn vs Facet. None of them had mentors great enough to be likely to send food, but they’re all strong enough for a drawn out free for all fight without casualties to be believable. Once Treech whistles out the signal that he’s picked the lock successfully, they start retreating from the fight one by one, making it look like they just narrowly dodged a lethal blow and decided to cut their losses. The tributes collect their gifts and high tail it out of the arena while Lucy Gray and Treech “get stuck” conveniently close to a microphone. This is done by Coral acting out the angry Bad Guy she’d forced herself into once they entered the arena. Treech acts the meek spineless coward and books it away from the pack, who give chase just slow enough to believably lose track of him in the tunnels and give up. He meets Lucy Gray at the agreed upon location, one on each side of a door with a microphone above it. What a coincidence! And at a time where Jessup is outside to collect gifts too!

Lucy Gray makes just enough noise to pass as accidental while still being audible for both the mic and Treech, who says hello and sardonically asks her where her partner is. She replies that he should come in and check, to which he replies he’s not ready to get his skull bashed in quite yet. Then they talk. They share stories and sing together, both showing a more human side to the tributes while also expertly stalling for time by drawing attention. They’re performers, they understand what to do without needing to discuss it.

The last person to leave aside from them, Marcus, (because he gave the camera district 2 signs so Sejanus knows what’s up and waited for his mentor to empty out as much of his funds as possible without being suspicious) taps out the agreed upon signal with his footsteps, making sure they echo loud enough for the two to overhear, before getting out too. Treech swiftly ends the conversation by stating that he should probably get a move on before someone finds him. He perfectly acts out a teenager getting everything off his mind to someone he thinks he may never talk to again, complimenting Lucy Gray and wishing her luck. She does the same, and they part ways. Treech is surprised to find that Vipsania sent him quite a bit of food and water once he made it back to the main part of the arena, but he’s not complaining. Lucy Gray follows after him with enough time between their departures to be believable for two people who are supposed to be scared of each other.

And that’s that. All of them are out, regrouping outside of the gates and escaping the scene swiftly. It’s only the next day that anyone bothers to check out the lack of action, only to find the snakes’ rainbow venom pouring out of the guards’ corpses in front of a long empty amphitheater. Surprisingly, most mentors aren’t all that upset at losing their chance to win the Plinth Prize, which is now given out like it was in previous years. Secretly, they’re glad their tribute escaped alive, though they’ll never say that out loud.

Nor will a few of them explain why they suddenly go on a trip to the districts every now and again. Or why Gaul’s lab blew up with her inside it once the horrific symptoms of her snakes’ venom was released to the public.

Guess we’ll never know how that happened :)

[orangepeelshortbreadcookies]

Hello!!! sorry i jum in here but i saw many post of your as a polin pen hater. You can hate what you want of course but its necessary to lie just to hate a character because of her body??? it wasnt that bad, she was not mean.

yes, what she did telling the ton marinas secret was not the best choise but it was what she thought it was the only way. Do you all wish for colin a marriage with not love?? and in a more practical way this is fiction and we all now he was going t end with pen , they are end game and thi is romance, its suppouse to be romantic that theu found each other, and for me it is. She didnt told marina secret because she wants colin for herself , she never thought she cold have him. maybe yo dont understand this but we, fat girls who are foung unattractive NEVER expect love or having a man, even less somone like colin. I think you, as many sadly, jugdge Pen actions too strong and deep down its all becuase of how she looks. Depp down i know you judge her action strongly becuase you can't accept that a woman who looks like that get something. I know you will keep hating, just want to say my opinion

(2) I saw you ask once why we ( pen fans) are mad when people hate her like you do if we got everything, saying like she happy and get married and LW. i will answer that from my perspective. Im fat, people is mean and that herats and yes, maybe it not a good things but it nice to have a revenge for all that suffering , but beside that i feel represented FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME in a romance show, ALL THE ROMANCE FEMALE LEADS AND THIN WOMAN and for the first times she looks like me but everyone is hating her becuase of how she looks and the worst is anyone accept its becuase of that, you all write long essays jugdging her actions but as i said, Were her actions that bad???? think about it fr......

Others please also refer to this post for more context.

I did not intend to answer this ask, because honestly, I'm really very lazy. Since there are only so many ways I can make my argument against the same accusation over and over again, especially to someone who clearly doesn't want to listen, I figured ignoring was the right decision. I'd rather spend my creative energy and efforts on my own writings, instead of figuring out another elaborate wording on how being critical of a character's actions does not equate fatphobia, and that personal adversity does not equal a 'get out of jail' free card for repeatedly inflicting pain on other people on a mass scale. I've talked about it in depth in my own blog, as well as reblogging other eloquent, well thought-out posts from others, Polin fans and anti-Polin fans alike. You can just scroll through my blog to see that. But I don't think you have come after me, time and again, to be convinced.

Even now, I still think ignoring you would have been the smarter, or at least, easier course of action for me. But I digress. Maybe it's one of those days where I feel more confrontational, maybe my ADHD is acting up and my meds are not hitting as well today, maybe after weeks of stress-filled personal achievements I'm feeling talkative seeing someone trying to disturb my peace. Nontheless, since you've made diligent efforts in seeking out my response, today's your lucky day, once and for all.

Something my mutuals and followers might have learned about me, is that I, being pretty fucking lazy, don't post/write a lot. To remedy this, when I do post, oftentimes I try to be as thorough as I possibly can. So, in the spirit of being thorough, here's a little log of the things I have received in the past weeks, on this site as well as on AO3, some of which, @cherryblossom970sblog, I have reasons to believe came from you

So you feel represented by character. Awesome. Good for you. You should celebrate it with like-minded people. You think nobody likes Penelope the way you do? Find the ones who do. I can assure you, they exist. I saw them daily on my dash. Read fics that bring you joy. Don't read the ones that don't. I have seen way too many Penelope/Anthony, Penelope/Benedict or even Penelope/Gregory fics, or fics where Penelope just straight up abused Colin that are celebrated in the comments. I don't like those and you know what I do? Scroll past those fics or click out of those and not read them. You know what I don't do? Go after the writers, try to police their writing, and accuse them of bigotry for not catering to my preferences.

Accept the fact that it's not going to be a 100% percent approval rating. And that's fine. That's part of life. I'm a primary Benophie fan, I've seen people wanting Benedict to end up with different people. It's their prerogative, I leave them alone. I have mutuals who have different takes on actions of Kate, Edwina, and Anthony, with varying degrees of feelings regarding how season 2 ends, and I have my own opinions. Personally, I find all three parties were wrong in that triangle, especially Anthony, and the sisterhood between Kate and Edwina in that season ought to have been handled with more respect and care. And my mutuals and I have civil, nuanced discussions about such things and ending those with still different opinions. That's okay. They're fictional characters and their actions are up to character analysis. It's fine.

What ISN'T fine is obssessively stalking inboxes of strangers, REAL people, unleashing insane level of hate and prejudices in defence of a FICTIONAL character, and accusing them of crimes they OBJECTIVELY did not commit, all because they don't share your opinions. I know you don't think this kind of behaviour is okay, you said so yourself that it's not a good thing. You've experienced fatphobia, you have my sympathies for that, but it doesn't give you the right to be shitty to other people. Your own bad experiences do not entitle you to disrespect, dismiss, invalidate and insult the people you harassed, including me, many of which are WoCs who have valid concerns regarding how their own experiences are represented and treated on the show. My struggles of being a bisexual, Asian, immigrant woman does not excuse me from being toxic to people who have done me no harm. I will not be vindicated in demeaning someone who have criticisms against the actions of fictional character who share my traits, criticisms that I just happen to disagree with.

And frankly, I find reducing the nuances of a character or person to only their bodies, to contribute (as either condemn or excuse) their actions to be only the result of their bodies, fucking insulting. It's infantalising and dehumanising.

Have a nice day and happy shipping. Leave us alone.

[ladymirdan]

As someone who just reblogs posts without saying anything, the reason I don't say anything when I reblog them is because one part, I often have nothing to say. And the other part is that most of the time when I comment on a post by reblogging it, the original poster never sees it or interacts with it. I feel like I'm screaming into the void, too.

I'm not trying to call anyone out, I'm not trying to shame anyone. Your point is still valid--it is 100% reasonable for you to feel the way you feel. I'm just providing my excuse for why I don't generally leave comments on your posts or on your blog. I'm pretty new to the fandom and pretty low on the fandom totem ladder, I think I'm one step up from an unknown. I don't get interaction most months, either, and I know that my interacting with anyone doesn't count for anything.

You are not under any obligation to interact with everyone who reblogs your posts with comments. I am not saying that you have to interact with me or that you're under some obligation. You are a popular member of the Tumblr 40k fandom with a lot of followers, I am one scream in the darkness. This is just me explaining why I just stalk your blog (do we still say that? We did back in 2012...) instead of talking to you. Also, I think our interests in the fandom are very different? But I love watching your enthusiasm, seeing your takes. I feel like I'm watching a Very Important Scholar dispensing wisdom in the public forum. (I won't even leave likes on peoples' posts because of what you and Tage have said about the likes! And now that I finally have a post that got popular, I kind of get that???? Sucks that it's not a post of literally any of my art, none of my drawings or writing, just a stupid picture I took where I tagged someone Very Important in the fandom without their permission, very rude of me...) Anyway, it's like, 2am here and I didn't get much sleep.

Pre-emptive sorry for wasting your time!

No no! My post wasn't a callout to anyone specific. And You reblog a lot of my stuff on here and I appreciate it a lot 💙 (I am also a notorious no comment reblogger a lot of the time 😅)

Reblogging on Tumblr makes me happy. It reaches new people with new perspectives and im still allowed to see the interactions. What I ment was taking the post offsite, to a discord or telegram or whatever where im not a part of the post anymore.

And second of all, you aren't a nobody. There are no hierarchy in fandom, (and anyone who says they are some kind of higher tier is a bit of a cunt imo) I value a good commenter/reblogger the same as a would an artist or writer.

But this is a good response, it clears the air a bit I think. I know I might look and sound scary from afar, but I'm (kind of?) nice. And I don't bite(impossible through the screen, I've tried). Lurking used to and still is encouraged way too much in my opinion.

And to you, and anyone who reads this thinking they are nobodies. That is not true. I was a nobody to Tage when we started talking, and now we (at least from my side) are really good friends, almost more then my afk friends.

It is always ok to comment on my posts, everything from “you are wrong and this is why *proceeds to write a 20page rant* to “I want to eat this post so I can carry it inside me” makes me smile.

(I have one rule tho; No unwarranted bashing of Abaddon, that leads to an insta block)

[vintagetvstars]

Quick disclaimer: I’d like to thank both of you for all the work you’ve done running this tournament, and I still think the final match-up was a great one. The results have really gotten me down, though. Bigtime. Nichelle’s win in the semifinal round gainst a hugely tumblr-popular (and more contemporary) opponent with a bigger body of work came as a delightful surprise, but somehow it’s made her loss a huge bummer to me. Eartha Kitt was lovely—I’m not hating on her at all! (To be clear, I’m also not suggesting there was any kind of “rigging” going on…how would that even happen, lol). It just seems super weird that I never saw any propaganda submitted for her vs. the metric ton of Nichelle propaganda you all received. And even though life’s not fair, it does seem a little unfair (and a little…boring?)—at least to my whiny butt—that the same actress won BOTH the hot vintage movie star poll and the hot vintage TV star poll…especially since her opponent didn’t ever get to become a movie star, at least not beyond a role she’d made iconic on TV.

Anyway, thank you all again for all you do! I’m still looking forward to the men’s tourney, even though I know for sure that my faves are going to be knocked out super early. Just wanted to share my thoughts/distress here instead of shouting them into the void that tumblr dot com can be. Obviously, I got way too invested, haha.

Oof I definitely understand anon and I’m sorry the results were a bit disappointing. I think both women were lovely and equally deserving and personally would have loved to have gotten a tie to crown them both but I’m happy for everyone who really wanted the Eartha double crown!

Now that I can speak freely about my personal preferences, I am a huge Star Trek fan and I adore Nichelle Nichols! She was my number 1 for this competition and I was so ecstatic to see so much love for her throughout the competition! But I’d be lying if I said we both weren’t a lil sad about not getting a Nichelle Nichols upset win or a fun double crown tie! However I do adore Eartha Kitt and she is definitely deserving of a double crown so I’m not at all upset that she won!

Definitely no harm in being a bit upset about the results of something you were invested in and cared about, as long as you’re able to calm down and move forward at the end of the day that’s what matters. I hope this ask helped you get some of those emotions out so you can go forth and continue enjoying your hot vintage tv favs! Thank you for caring so much about our fun lil tournament 💚

Also if it helps at all we fully plan to bring this tournament back next year and we have already decided that winners of previous tournaments won’t be eligible to compete in future tournaments. So next year could very well be the year of Nichelle Nichols!

But in the meantime we hope you enjoy the men’s tournament! Even if your favs don’t make it all the way, I hope it’ll still be fun! (I certainly understand watching your favs get knocked out early 😔 so many of my favs went down in rounds 1&2 of the hot vintage movie men’s tournament).

- mod vintage

_

it's understandable to be upset, especially in a race so close (i think it was decided by only about two dozen or so votes in the end). while i love eartha and am happy to present her with the crown, im also very much looking forward to seeing if nichelle can snatch the win next year!

i was completely unaware of how beloved earth kitt is until running this tournament. even though there was no propaganda submitted, the reblogs and tags on the final spoke for themselves - hundreds of people commenting about their love for her and asking their followers to vote in her favor.

thank you for being so invested and for your ask. definitely stick around for the men's bracket - you never know how any of the men's polls are going to go on tumblr.com.

- mod violet

[thesquidkid]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you. learn to know your mutuals and followers.(ू•‧̫•ू⑅)♡

Thank you ❤️

This list will be unordered, because I am bad at sorting the ideas in my brain 😂

My friends make me really happy, both irl and not (@the-magpieprince ❤️ thank you for letting me rant at you), and even tho I may be rather asocial and introverted, I do love being around ppl. My parents are also ppl who make me really happy, and every time we talk it puts a smile on my face and makes me less anxious

Maths. That's it. I fucking love maths so much, it's actually worrying. I spend most of my free time either thinking/working on my thesis, or writing weird codes on python to make cute gifs. Maths is like the thing that I constantly think about, and has gotten me out of so many panic attacks (prime factorisation or Fibonacci sequence is my go to)

Reading. I've always loved reading, and I didn't do it much during lockdown because I wasn't in the vibe, but I'm back now! Currently I'm going through lotr, and I've just started the two towers. Reading is such a fun activity for me, and I sincerely look forward to reading every night, even if it's just a page

During lockdown I didn't really read much, but instead I got much more into twitch. I used to watch replays casually, and maybe watch a few lives here and there, but it wasn't a constant. Now, however, I have a weekly schedule with something pretty much every night (and if not, I'll watch replays). For instance right now, I have la soirée du lundi on Mondays, Popcorn on Tuesdays, replays or casual streams on Wednesdays, Backseat on Thursdays, la soirée est tienne on Fridays, replays or casual streams on Saturdays, and Indiemanche on Sundays. These shows, and these streamers do bring a smile on my face every time I watch them, I love their good and chill vibe.

Fandom (and particularly the rnm fandom, and everyone on discord ❤️) is such a great thing, and really makes me happy (and the Tumblr block and filtering aspects). Writing fics, reading fics, seeing amazing gifs and fanart, is such a wonderful thing. And I love being a part of it all, it's such a great feeling to have ppl from all over the world liking the same thing and talking about it

So this is the list, I think this is a good summary of what makes me happy, tho there's for sure more stuff! Like food, and going to the gym, and watching the flowers outside and many more things.

I realised during lockdown and during my first year of uni that I was not very happy in general, so I decided to start with small things and spending a few moments a day just sitting down and listing one thing that made me happy that day.

And those five things listed up there and the ones that make me the happiest, so I'll keep doing those (sorry babe @the-magpieprince , that means I'll probably keep renting to you ❤️😂)

[moth-in-the-moon]

Howdy I was that first ask (sorry I'd rather stay anon, bad xmen fandom experiences taught me to keep my opinions to myself or people will go after you personally). I'm only answering now cuz it doesn't look like we got the same timezones : I found your blog after looking up Margali related stuff (I needed this) and saw the reblog with the tag about "messy timeline". I like putting together timeline charts for my favs so I pulled out my Nightcrawler related one (slightly messy from following Si Spurrier's runs) and decided to give a shot to X-Men Blue. Big mistake. I should have listened to you. My 10 years in the making timeline chart is now only good for the dumpster and I'm done with Si.

I sent my ask to you because everyone is very hush hush about these kinds of complains and I just wanted you to know you weren't alone.

Okay so, I don't hate the Golden Child on her own, it's... How she came to be was unnecessary weird (genetically Kurt is as much her grandpa as he is her dad, wtf). What a weird road to go down instead of having her be like Cardinal. You know the chimera engineered from Nightcrawler's DNA +2 mutants that's straight up Azazel with red hair and eyes ? From PoX ? (Not sure if the editors remember him at all)

Funny stuff about Azazel btw, the demon thing was a retcon on his mutant status done after Austen left (he's back to being a mutant since 2019), Azazel keeps close contact with other Winding Way witches than Margali and Nightcrawler's ectrodactyly might have come from him too because he has been shown in a few comics (when doing his behind the scenes scheming with no one else around) to have that at least for his hands and uses his shapeshifting to hide it... For reasons.

I personally never cared about the Baron because he was a nothing character ? Man didn't even have a first name or canon appearance until TAS and his lastname's a plothole. This gets to the point where having him and Azazel turn out to be the same person, like a secret identity to the latter dude, would actually be an improvement and funny idea.

You're right, that "beloved darling child" is a straight up joke when looking at Mystique and Destiny's actions : They adopted and raised Rogue in 616 since she was a CHILD, raised both her and Kurt together in the "Children in the attic" what-if (Scott Lobdell but Mystique didnt throw Nightcrawler into a waterfall to save herself. Still calls Rogue the child she "always wanted" even then) and straight up let Nightcrawler die saving Hope when they were ready to sacrifice her as a baby to save Rogue (Kurt's death was avoidable and Mystique didn't know he'd be back to life like ever).

Mystique also raised Nightcrawler from birth in Age of Apocalypse where everything is Hell and he gets killed (Apocalypse attacks long after he was born so it's the same chain of events until that) and kept close contact and looked after Destiny's many human children, mutant grandchildren and grand-grandchildren throughout the years in 616... To the point of killing Graydon Creed, her biological son which she kept close watch on until his teens, to protect them. Kurt turns out to have been neglected more by her than Graydon at this point following this one shot.

The change made here on the "definite origin story" complicates and contradict stuff for no reason. It also adds another layer of unanswered questions which goes against the point of a definite story

"Why would Mystique and Destiny plan on having this kid, finally have him then straight up abandon him because of a 'sudden vision' when one of them is a precog who checks the future 24/7 to be sure everything goes perfectly fine but apparently kept things going when she saw 0 futures with that baby in it post due-date and never even once wrote about said baby in her future diaries for Mystique to do stuff for him in the future when she was gone (contrary to Rogue the child they adopted) ?" Si Spurrier doesn't care to think about important elements like that and just keeping throwing stuff on a wall to see what sticks

"Why didn't they rescue Nightcrawler before Xavier at any point and recruit him/secretly raise him with Rogue ?" Nightcrawler's first appearance was him literally running away from a mob (canonically not his first) before being saved by Xavier, one of the 3 people Mystique and Destiny were going to assassinate in their first appearance (Days of Future Past) which directly led to Nightcrawler being one of the first (avoidable) mutant casualties of that timeline. So even without years of baggage, these two didn't care about Kurt within their first X-Men issue with him. But sure the answer to this is probably the future vision excuse again I bet...

Well tell that to Margali Szardos, the circus fortune teller who managed to properly raise Kurt and protect him with half the power, wealth, means, knowledge and people. Oh wait we can't cuz she ded (Weird coincidence that the same writer behind this story which tries to make Mystique and Destiny look like the best moms for Nightcrawler turned Kurt's actual good mom into the complete opposite of who she was then unceremoniously killed her...)

Mystique has also spent her time using her knowledge of his origins as way to get him to do stuff for her then lied about them over and over again (this story makes it the third time she lied). Something she never hesitated or regretted doing

Then you have... Krakoa. So much to say. Most recent example ? Mystique and Destiny abandoned Kurt (for the 2nd time now) in the Sins of Sinister timeline when they left the island before he got switched with his sinister clone and Margali did her full corruption thing. They straight up ignored him when he grew horns in present time from beginning to end. He gets mind-controlled, murders people and has to leave to an Orchis filled Earth without keeping in touch with anyone, no reaction whatsoever from them

This reveal just turned Mystique and Destiny from bad to god awful parents in general (it looks like they never cared because they never raised him themselves) and yet the story pretends otherwise

One, before I get into anything, BIIIG ask. I've never had an ask that big. Two, Before I get into anything, Cardinal my beloved, my son, my beautiful beautiful boy, he and god baby should both be canon and like. weird universeally/timeline displaces siblings. A thing about Cardinal that I personally think is an interesting concept is how, being part Rachel (so a descendant of Jean) would make him probably be on the Phoenixes list of favourite hosts, which I think could be interesting with his anti-violence genes (<- whatever the fuck that was). Also they should remember him, since they made Rasputin 4 canon (I have my complaints about her genetic make up too, considering shes part. illyana and piotr.) Again, long thoughts under the read more

Yeah, again I completely agree on the neglect paart. The reveal managed to make Destiny and Mystique even more horrible parents, but it's trying to paint them as loving their son, which, is kinda nonsensical with past context. As I said, this retcon at this point in time is bad for the characters BECAUSE of the years of plot from the past. From mystique caring for other children to how they both act towards Kurt throughout things like Krakoa, it doesnt really add up. Plus, what would be the reason for them to not tell him sooner? Did destiny specifically see Kurt get a sick ass magic sword and go "this is incredibly important to the timeline" and thats why they stayed quiet? Having them make destiny and raven be heartbroken about the baby having to go and having the description literally be like "neither of us ever had any kids because of love until we decited to have you" It's a whiplash that could technically work if built up right, but this wasn't built up. Because I do think this could've worked with better set up, but its too late for that.

And yeah no, there have been what-ifs of mystique "successfully" raising Kurt, so it just makes the vision a weirdly cruel plotpoint. Plus that means Destiny is now canonically at fault for all that happened to Kurt, because she knew and actively set it in motion through this retcon. Which. is a wild thing to accidentally do.

Though I do like the moment where Mystique is like "I wished for a daughter", that feels fitting to her and kurts relationship.

Also this does make Kurt doing his "make 'em talk by letting them freefall under the threat of letting them splat" to Destiny funnier. You go boy, threaten matricide!

And man, yeah, Margali wasn't a perfect mom, but we have many scenes of her being a good mom or at least trying to be (specifically for kurt). Shout out to her calling Kurt her specialest boy that one time, she loved her baby. We need a Margali comic about her and her powers honestly, she's canonically one of the strongest sorcerers ever, bound by the moody nature of a living dimension, it would be so interesting to see how the way actually effects her and if she's like, bound to certain actions by the way, lest it destroys her or something. She is the sorcerer supreme of it iirc so there is a very specific connection here, especially since the wandering way is alive. With Kurt having the magic sword now too, it would be interesting for margali to come back (cause lets be real, she isnt gonna stay dead (<- threat. by me. at the comics.) and maybe teach him magic or how to work with magic. Let them actually work out the cracks in their relationship, show that they both do love eachother, but time and everything that has come up just kept tearing at them and margalis laissez-faire nature and following of the winding way didnt really help.

also man, krakoa was a good fun idea, i hate that they killed her, you couldve done alot of good with krakoa, the writers were just on their "uuuuh. shit we cant have mutants be happy" path again

[softranswolves]

In the Teen Wolf fandom, it seems like peeps only love the big-names, the ones who regularly return to post content versus people who joined in the last few years.

As someone who has been here a while, what's your take on this? Should new people stop trying? Because that's what I'm feeling.

Hey friend!

I just wanna say, before I really get to my answer, I'm kind of touched that you see me having been around for a while!! I'm definitely not what I'd consider a big-name and I know my blog is mostly just my little corner full of stuff I curate with my own creations or reblogs of other people's but you see me 😊 I'm also for sure not tapped into the fandom itself like some folks I follow. I just doot my snoot in my little archive of teen wolf shenanigans and try to maintain friendships with anyone who wants to interact with me (via asks, messages, or tags, good golly I wanna hug anyone who interacts in tags lol and I for sure recognize when ppl come back).

I typed a way longer response that you may not have wanted, all to just say I would hate to see new people stop trying!! I adore that teen wolf is still pulling people despite it being off air and potentially not getting more movies (whether or not that's what most people want). I think fandoms need fresh air continually too. No two people will experience the show or content 100% the same way and have every single response be the same. Just with the two cakes mindset of creation, there are multiple cakes for how we all digest the show and they're all delicious. I carved out my own little corner here because I wanted organization for myself, and I create largely for myself. Any interaction I get, I fucking adore, I cannot impress that enough lol. I just never really expect it bc I know I do my own thing here with stuff like Multiamory May moodboards. Rarepairs and polyamory and trans headcanons just aren't everyone's cup of tea and I stopped trying to be recognized for what I "target" when I know my quality isn't 100% and I'm just vibing to my own weirdness instead of being super put together about it. I've definitely flickered in and out of the fandom when it comes to engagement too - like how last year (or year before? idk, time is confusing) I was running regular events but currently I just don't have the energy/passion in the same way.

If you really want to be seen more, esp if you make your own posts/content, utilize tags, even if you're hella lazy with it like me. I try to always use #twedit no matter what, in addition to #twfemslash and #twrarepair when applicable. Those go on the radar of people who fill the queues of some "big" blogs that do a bunch of reblogging just to have continual content out there. I also feel like I got a foot in via a couple of my discord servers, mainly Teen Wolf Legacy, and making a couple too (one for Scott shipping, one for teen wolf femslash; others i know of included pecific Derek-positive ones, a Stiles shipping one). That absolutely increased my reach, because I could share my stuff with people who specifically wanted to get pinged for, say Allison/Stiles content as an example. Idk that my following blew up or anything, I'm still a relatively small teen wolf blog. But it did make it easier to grow into my niche here. It also made me realize how big the fandom is. Some might only watch for or engage with a particular ship or character, while others like me do so for pretty much anyone.

This was still lengthy, I'm sorry. You caught me after work when my brain is like solely focused on decompression via fixation and tumblr is often a source for that. Please don't be discouraged from trying, and if you feel comfortable coming directly to me I could possibly point you in the direction of some other teen wolf blogs with similar interests! Big-names are hella daunting and it still blows my mind some of the ones I always sort of looked up to also just have some nerd behind them that I can talk to (even if I feel like im annoying them lmao). Feel free to talk with me more either on or off anon too, I'm pretty much always here to some extent. I love new people so fucking much, I'm just not engaged enough to always see you 💜💜💜💜

[silverstonesainz]

minimum interaction but also, i just expect more. and maybe that makes me a shitty person but is it so hard to hit reblog and share it with everyone else after i've put in such a huge chunk of my time to make it?? like if you can take the 2 extra minutes to reply and come into my ask box asking for another part, surely surely you can reblog it too ya know?//

yea kinda right, it make you sound like a shitty person. you’re getting engagement but it’s not the type you want and you’re complaining. like there are author that would kill to have just a couple likes or to have someone to drop in there inbox letting them know they like something enough to read more. can i understand why you would like reblogs, i guess. but it sounds like you’re only interested in having more people see your work as some type of popularity contest instead of just creating a core group thats going to be constant cheerleaders. that’s a huge turn off for me as a reader. i’ve got a couple of blogs that I have post notifications turned on because you can tell that that enjoy what they’re doing and even if they’re only getting any interaction it’s from the same people over and over. those are the blogs that I keep following even when they change hyper fixations. that’s how I got into F1.

i dont look at it at all as a popularity contest at all, and im sorry if it came across this way. and i do realize that the way i worded it came off really shitty but i just (1) didn't know how to properly get my feelings across and (2) i didn't wanna hold back bc i want to be as honest as i can be with the people who come onto my page. again i'd like to emphasize: i'm grateful. i know i dont deserve the amount of interactions i get on here. and i wasn't even complaining about all my fics bc i know that my stuff is either rly good or rly bad. i have my days. im mostly heated bc of an ongoing theme i notice on my blog of people going "pt 2 pt 2!!" but not interacting with the fic (and this has been over the course of my time in f1blr). like the part 2 comes off more as a demand than a "i love this so much pls do a part 2!" i dont know if that makes sense at all. this is also a very incorrect cry for help to figure out what im doing wrong in terms of interaction because i used to get so much-- and not even just reblogs but people coming into my inbox to chat n stuff. it's all kind of gone down and i just wanna know why.

i understand how this all looks and im probably digging myself into a hole but i mean. i said what i said and i'll own up to it.

and also, i have an amazing core group on here as it is. i do just worry that i am becoming repetitive and stuck in my ways and i guess im kind of looking for reassurance that i'm not.

[runnning-outof-time]

A Day At the Races | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - part of @look-at-the-soul ‘s 500 followers celebration

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Tommy decides to spend a day at the races and meets a woman who reminds him of who he used to be.

Warnings: language, smoking, drinking

Word Count: 4013

A/N: this story takes place after the events of season 6. There are no direction mentions of what happened, instead I’ve only alluded to them. Also I envisioned a slight age gap between Tommy and (Y/N) but it’s not explicitly mentioned so you don’t have to read it like that.

A/N 2: this was so fun to write ... I’ve had the idea of showcasing Tommy at the races for a while but had no idea what direction to take it in, so thank you for this inspiration, Mar! Congrats again on 500! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

For the first time in a long time, maybe even ever, Tommy Shelby was going alone to the races. He always had somebody with him; even though the reason behind the accompaniment differed based on who it was.

Sometimes it was Charlie Strong, who'd come along to see how the competition fared. Sometimes it was Arthur, who'd join to make sure that the trackside bets were still coming in steady...after all these years, the Shelbys still held a firm grasp on the races. And then other times it'd be Lizzie. She'd come when they'd decide to use the event as a sort of a date...where they could go and try to reminisce on days gone by. Key word being 'try'. A handful of times, he even brought Charlie and Ruby...he wanted them to see one of the ways their father made his livelihood, and he hoped that having them around the tracks would make them want to venture into working with horses someday.

But now everyone was gone and Tommy was alone. The situation wasn't a complete lost cause though. There was some sort of thrill of attending the races alone after all of these years. It'd be different than the past times, and he didn't want to admit it, but he was excited for the event. It was a chance for him to get in touch with his roots once more...to go back to a time when he was just a bookmaker from Birmingham and no one knew the man who had a determination in his heart and a fire in his eyes.

"Mr. Shelby," yet another younger man greeted him with a subtle nod of the head as he walked past. Tommy only nodded as he continued on his way through the concourse. This was commonplace at the track now; he'd been around long enough to gain the respect of practically every derby-goer.

"Mr. Shelby!" his name was called out again, but this time it was said in a way that warranted a response.

Tommy turned on his heels to see an older, stout man approaching him with his arm outstretched, like he was trying to get his attention. "Yes?" Tommy questioned, racking his brain but coming up with no possible names for this man.

"Mr. Breckenridge," the older man introduced himself, extending his hand for Tommy to shake, "you have a horse running today?"

"I do not," Tommy shook his head, his hand falling back down to his side, "just here as a spectator."

"That's a shame," Mr. Breckenridge said with a shake of his head, "Sunny certainly earned her fair share of winnings. She was a favorite of mine."

A bit of a frown formed on Tommy's face at the mention of the horse...the horse that Ruby had named. "She certainly did," he agreed with the man, trying to keep his composure as he nodded once more, "and she was liked by many."

"Oh she sure was," the man agreed with him, the grin on his face showing Tommy that he did a good job at hiding his shift in emotions. "Say, have you ever..."

"Please, I just want to go in. I could have sworn that my name was on that list...could you please just check again?"

"I'm sorry, miss, but there's no one by the last name (Y/L/N) on this list."

The conversation Tommy was having got interrupted by another, one that was coming from the closed doors that led to the exclusive suites. Mr. Breckenridge stopped talking at the sound of it and merely glanced over in the squabble's direction before going back to speaking. Tommy, however, kept his focus on the younger looking woman who was trying her hardest to get past the two bouncers; who were not hearing any of her pleas.

"Please?" she tried again, the slightest bit of desperation ringing in her voice.

"Excuse me," Tommy then said to Mr. Breckenridge, suddenly feeling the desire to go and learn more about this woman's predicament for some odd reason. Breckenridge nodded and that was all Tommy needed to leave the conversation and walk towards the problem. "Oi!" he called out as he got closer, his voice stopped one of the bouncers from telling the woman to leave yet again, "what’s the problem here?" he asked as he came to a stop in front of the three.

"This woman's insisting that she be let into the suites. She's not even on the list," one of the bouncers spoke as if the woman wasn't even present, holding up his clipboard for further measure.

Tommy glanced between the three people before his eyes fell onto the woman. She had a pleading look in her eyes as they hooked onto his, and as she stared at Tommy, he started to feel something inside of him. "She's with me," he then told the bouncers, his eyebrows raised slightly.

"Oh...Mr. Shelby, we're so sorry. We...we didn't know," the bouncer with the clipboard immediately went into damage control.

"Just let us in, ok?" Tommy ignored their apologies, nodding to the door that was quickly opened for him and his new acquaintance. His hand softly touched the woman's lower back; his way of telling her to enter first. "After you, love," he told her, and she finally got over her initial shock of the situation and walked inside.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened slightly as she took in the room that she never thought she'd be able to get into. Her pale yellow dress and overly-simple plumed feather hat looked raggedy compared to some of the things that these people had on. She kept looking around in awe until she felt a hand on her elbow. "Huh?" she asked, her gaze being pulled away from the grandeur to look at the 'Shelby’ man that had managed to get her into the room.

"Act like you're supposed to be in here, come on," he told her before nodding his head in the direction of the bar that was situated further in the dining area of the room. (Y/N) only nodded before she let him lead her deeper into the suite, which now looked more like a banquet hall to her. "Would you like a drink?" he asked her once they were standing at the bar.

(Y/N) leaned herself against the bar top and looked at the man who'd brought her there with widened eyes. She was still trying to process how she managed to get in here. Then she realized that he'd asked her a question, so she snapped herself out of her thoughts and nodded slightly, "yes, a uh...a gin and tonic I guess," she answered him. The man nodded before he waved over a barman and promptly put his order in. "Who...who are you?" she then asked him, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Tommy chuckled at her question, just now thinking of how confused she may be by all that had happened. "I'm Tommy Shelby," he introduced himself as he fished his cigarette tin out of his pants pocket, "you?" he figured he'd ask as he went about rolling one against his bottom lip and lighting it with his lighter.

(Y/N) blinked a few times, his name processing in her mind. "(Y/N) (Y/L/N)," she then answered his question, "your horses have raced in this derby before. Are you running one today?"

He shook his head at her statement, "no. Just came to watch," he then grabbed the whiskey he ordered and brought it up to his lips, taking a drink before setting it back down on the bar. (Y/N) also took a drink from her glass before deciding to keep it in her hands. "Any reason why you were trying to get into this section?" he questioned her after a few moments had passed.

She thought about her answer for a moment before shrugging her shoulders slightly, "not really, no. You always hear about the exclusive suites and the things that happen inside of them. I figured I'd try and experience it all for myself."

Tommy couldn't help but chuckle at her statement. He liked the confidence that she had. "I guess I'm happy to be helping you then," he stated, stamping out his cigarette in the ashtray on the bar before he downed the rest of his whiskey.

"That was a real nice thing you did for me back there, Mr. Shelby," she smiled at him, truly thankful for him giving her this opportunity. If it weren't for his interference, she probably would have been kicked out of the event altogether.

"Don't mention it," he shook his head before looking around the room that was starting to fill up with other rich derby-goers. He then looked back to (Y/N) and raised his eyebrows slightly, "you're in here now...is there anything else you want to do?" he asked her before even thinking about what he was saying.

(Y/N) pursed her lips and looked around, thinking about the offer for a few moments. Then a smile formed on her face, "I've heard that the food served here is much better than what is served anywhere else in the event."

"It is," Tommy nodded. He didn't know that because he'd tried it, but instead because every person he's dined with had raved about the food.

"Would you like to get something to eat before the races start?" she asked him, her eyebrows raising slightly.

"Sure," he nodded again before motioning for her to begin walking. She smiled at him and stepped away from the bar, feeling tingles shoot through her body as his hand landed on the small of her back again. She couldn't shake the feeling, even though she knew it was just so that he could lead her through the people with ease. She quite liked it. "Table for two," he then told the maitre d who was standing at the reception podium.

The man looked at the two of them, his eyes focusing on (Y/N) for slightly longer as he looked her up and down with a hint of disgust in his eyes. "This way," he then waved them along before walking into the dining area. "Does this table suit you, Mr. Shelby?" he asked as he motioned to a table in the middle of the room.

"Something more private would be better," Tommy voiced his opinion and within seconds they were walking again.

"Of course, Mr. Shelby, I'm sorry," the man apologized as he then brought them to a table that sat right up against the windows that faced the track. "Is this better?" he then asked, a hopeful look on his face.

"This'll do," Tommy nodded. (Y/N) didn't miss the relieved breath that left the maitre d's mouth as he nodded and then told the couple that someone would be over to wait on them shortly.

"Why was he looking at me like that?" (Y/N) couldn't help but ask once they were both sitting.

"Like what?" Tommy questioned, his brows furrowed slightly.

"He was looking at me with disgust," she told him, trying to stop the frown from forming on her face.

"It's probably because you don't look like you're supposed to be in here," he answered her in a candid tone.

(Y/N) glanced down at her dress, which looked normal at best, and let his words sink in. "You're right, I guess," she then shrugged her shoulders as she looked at him again.

"I think you look fine...couldn't fuckin' care less about what you're wearing," Tommy stated, "people in here hold everyone to a higher standard though."

"I understand," (Y/N) nodded in agreement with his statement, "and thank you, Tommy," she added, smiling at him. Tommy gave her a closed-mouth smile as the waiter came over and took their order. "You're not getting anything?" (Y/N) asked him once it was just the two of them again.

"Not hungry," he shrugged his shoulders.

"But you've ordered another whiskey," she pointed out.

"Guilty," Tommy raised his hands in surrender, his gesture making (Y/N) giggle, which in turn made him smile. Silence fell between them as (Y/N) looked around the room in awe. Everything in the room had an Art Deco style to it and there were hints of gold and black everywhere. It looked exactly like what she pictured Gatsby's home to look like from F. Scott Fitzgerald's book.

"Isn't this beautiful?" she couldn't help but ask after she'd been looking around for some time.

Tommy glanced around the room before his eyes settled on her. "It's fair," he shrugged slightly. His tone wasn't exactly uninterested, but it certainly held less marvel than hers did.

"You're used to all of this I bet," she pondered.

"I guess," he shrugged his shoulders again, "you get used to it after awhile." The food was brought to the table then, and (Y/N) graciously thanked the waiter before she eagerly began eating. "Where're you from?" Tommy asked her after a few moments passed. He had his drink in his hands, his finger absentmindedly tracing the glass's rim.

"Some no name town," (Y/N) responded, wiping her mouth with the napkin, "I don't have much to my name. I bought this ticket with my last week's wages and decided to come and pretend like I was living a different life," she then told him some of her backstory.

Tommy nodded along as she spoke, once again noticing the spark of confidence in her eyes; the same spark that he remembered himself having...before all of the money and the status that came with it.

"Is there anything else I can have brought to the table, Mr. Shelby?" the waiter asked as he glanced between (Y/N) and the man he was addressing.

Tommy looked at the woman sitting across from him before giving his answer. She smiled back at him before gently shaking her head. "We're good, thank you," he then told the waiter.

"Shall I bring the bill to your table?" the waiter asked.

"Put it on my tab," Tommy waved the man's question off, watching as he nodded before leaving the table.

"Thank you for this, Tommy, really," (Y/N) thanked him yet again for how gracious he was being, "it means a lot to me that you'd sit here while I ate...even though it was obvious that you wanted to go."

"Obvious, eh?" Tommy quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes," (Y/N) nodded her head with a slight laugh and a smile.

She was going to say something more, but an announcement rang out through the room's speakers. It was one of the track officials saying that the main races were about to begin.

"Just in time," (Y/N) clapped her hands together as happiness spread through her body, "I'll let you go now and return to my seat for the rest of the event. You've been so unbelievably kind to me in letting me join you here."

Tommy furrowed his eyebrows at her statement. Was she saying goodbye to him? "You're going?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she answered as if it was obvious, "I figured that you'd want to watch the races by yourself."

"You can't come into the private boxes and not watch the races from here," he told her, speaking like she had committed some type of crime.

A surprised expression formed on her face as she took in his words. "Are...are you saying that you want me to watch the races with you?" she practically gasped.

"Why not make the most of it, eh?" he sent her a smile as he held his hands out to the sides to physically make the 'why not?' expression.

If she was excited before, now she felt like she could scream out in happiness.

"Shall we go?" Tommy then asked her, making her realize that she hadn't said anything.

"Yes, of course!" she responded, trying to keep her cheeks from heating up as she stood from her chair.

"Follow me," he told her, nodding his head in the direction he wanted them to go. She nodded before moving to his side and allowing him to lead the way. Somewhere in their trek, he placed his hand against her lower back again. There was no surprise that jolted through her this time; instead, she'd grown to be comfortable with the feeling. And she still liked it.

"Oh wow," (Y/N) gasped as they came to a stop at the balcony of the private suites. It had a beautiful view of the track, and she could clearly see where the horses were being brought to the starting gates. "I would come to every single one of these if I had a view like this," she stated, her comment making Tommy chuckle.

"It is a good place to watch the races from," he agreed with her as he fished his cigarettes from his jacket pocket. He placed one between his lips before offering one to her. She politely declined, but watched as he lit his. "You have any bets placed?" he asked her after taking a long drag and blowing the smoke away from them.

(Y/N) laughed slightly at her question, "goodness no. I have no money, remember?" she reminded him jokingly. Her expression told Tommy that it was ok to chuckle at her words. The two then leaned against the balcony and watched on as the last of the horses were brought to the gates. "Have you?" she asked him after a few moments had passed.

"Placed any bets?" Tommy checked before answering. She nodded so he continued: "no. My men are the ones taking the bets...and I know which horse will be winning."

"Tommy Shelby, are you fixing races?" she asked him in a hushed tone as she turned to look at him. There was an excitement in her eyes that Tommy noticed instantly, and he felt himself getting sucked into her gaze. He couldn't stop the feeling that was rising inside of him.

"I may be," he answered her, staying mum on the topic as a grin formed on his face.

(Y/N)'s grin only widened as she heard his response. "Then maybe I should have placed a bet," she said, then knocking his arm with her elbow. Only then did he manage to rip his eyes away from her and focus on the track as he brought the cigarette back up to his lips. "Who's winning this one?" she asked him, curiosity evident in her words.

"Golden Gate," he answered nonchalantly just as the gun fired.

(Y/N) kept her eyes glued to the track and watched as the horses galloped as hard as they could. In the end, the announcers are going crazy over the fact that the horse named 'Golden Gate' had come from behind to win the race. Amidst all of the fanfare, she turned to look at the man standing next to her with wide eyes.

"Told you," was all he said, his grin still present as he kept his eyes focused on the track. (Y/N) only shook her head and silently cursed herself for not having any money on her...for if she did, she'd be leaving this place rich.

They stayed out on the balcony for some time and watched several more races go off. Before some of them, Tommy would discreetly tell her which horse would win, and then (Y/N) would look over at him in shock when it did. She then questioned him on why he only knew some, to which he told her that his men had only fixed some of the races in their favor.

It then got to a point where there were only a couple races left. (Y/N) turned to Tommy and leaned up against the railing before she spoke: "we should go have a dance."

Tommy was taken back by her sudden suggestion. "I don't dance, love," he told her, hoping that she would get the hint and drop the idea.

But she was persistent. "Come on, Tommy...everyone dances at the races," she was starting to resort to begging, the puppy dog look in her eyes.

Tommy pursed his lips as he thought about the suggestion. He'd given up dancing a long time ago, when he realized that nothing good came out of it and that it’d be better just sitting on the sidelines. But something felt different now. After spending most of his day with this woman, he felt that there may be something good to come out of it. So with that in mind, he nodded his head.

“Yes?” (Y/N) asked, checking to make sure she saw correctly.

“Yes,” he affirmed, watching as her smile grew larger.

“Oh that’s perfect,” she cheered. This time she was the one to lead him to the dancefloor and instead of his hand being fastened to her lower back, it was now holding hers. The smile was still present as she turned to face him and assumed the proper dancing position. They swayed to the slower-tempoed song being played; effectively feeling like they were in their own world despite being in a crowded room. “There’s nothing better than a parting dance, isn’t there?” (Y/N) softly questioned as she lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him once more.

“Where will you go after this?” Tommy asked her.

She sighed at the thought of going home. “I’ll try to catch a cab and hope that the driver is nice and spares a ride for me.”

“You can stay with me,” he offered, then wanting to kick himself for how quickly he’d responded.

“Really?” she asked him, her eyes sparkling from the lights overhead.

Tommy took a deep breath and nodded his head. “Really. You can stay the night with me and then I’ll take you home tomorrow...free of charge.”

“Oh I couldn’t accept that,” (Y/N) was quick to say, her heart swelling at his offer.

“‘S not a big deal,” he waved her off, shaking his head slightly.

“Tommy...” she sighed, wanting to pull her eyes away from him, but she was unable to.

“You’ve made my day unexpectedly better. My plan was to come to the races alone, but then I found you and...shit, (Y/N), I don’t think I want you to leave just yet,” he told her, his hand squeezing hers gently as a smile threatened to pull the corners of his lips upwards.

Unsure of what to say, (Y/N) decided to let her actions do the talking. She held his stare for a moment longer before she managed to slip her hand from his and bring it up to his cheek. Before anything could be said, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss. She pulled away before Tommy was able to deepen it, making him exhale a soft grunt as his abandoned hand fell to meet the other on her waist.

“Should I accept that as the answer to my offer?” he asked her in a soft voice.

“I think you can,” she responded with a smile, her hand caressing his cheek as she watched his eyes flit down to her lips.

A slight grin formed on his lips as his eyes met hers once more. Without saying anything else, he leaned in and kissed her again. This kiss was more passionate than the last one and it worked effectively in sucking them deeper into the trance the other created.

“Should I accept that as your reaction to my answer?” (Y/N) mimicked him once they pulled away.

“You should,” Tommy answered definitively, his hands squeezing her waist as she giggled at his words.

He never would have expected it, but Tommy knew for a fact that he’d never have to attend the races alone again now that he had (Y/N) by his side.

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @golden-hoax @elenavampire21 @peaky-cillian @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @easilyobessedbutflighty @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

MASTERLIST

[supernaturalgirl20]

Hello Friend, I’m back with idea for another Frankie story.

Dating Frankie is a dream isn’t it? But what if he do not want us, his gorgeous chubby girl, introduces to his friends? Little bit angst ✨

Us thinking he is ashamed of us and he thinking that if she met them she would fall for them instead of him because he still do not understand how she can date him, even they are not too deep in their relationship. Santiago is the one who has successful business, Benny is great fighter and Will is the most handsome fit guy and charming as a bonus. But we want to meet people who are important to Frankie because we wanted the relationship to work not to flirt with his friends. Maybe a little for fun but never to hurt our bby Frankie.

In the end they both find out they are idiots in love.

✨✨✨

Am I happy to follow up on Frankie and his girl? Yes 🙌 thank you nonnie 🥰 sorry this took so long hope you enjoy ☺️

Insecurities

Part 2 to Want to get outta here?

Pairings: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, PinV sex, fingering, insecurities, angst, Frankie being a dick, cursing, fluff.

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

That night at the bar had changed everything. You’d met the love of your life, it that he knows that yet - you have been too afraid to say anything. He had told you about all his past relationships - about how they nearly all cheated on him, leaving him broken-hearted. You wouldn’t do that.

Frankie kept his word after that night and brought you on your first date the following weekend - dinner at his favourite restaurant in town, followed by a night of amazing sex. God that man worshipped you. You’ve never known pleasure like it. It didn’t matter that you had thicker thighs than most girls or you had belly rolls - that man fucking loved it. Frankie made you feel like you were the prettiest girl around. Life was great.

This weekend was gonna be your six-month anniversary and you wanted to organise something to celebrate. A BBQ at Frankie’s place would be perfect, it would also double up as you meeting his friends for the first time - something you had been pushing for, for quite some time.

When you first broached the subject, Frankie had stiffened below you and gave you some shitty excuse about them being super busy; one you didn’t believe. Haven got their numbers from his phone last week, you proceeded to text them - inviting them over this Saturday - and they all got back with a resounding, yes. You just hoped this didn’t backfire.

***

Giving everything a once over, a knock on Frankie’s front door startles you. You take a deep breath trying to quell the nerves that racked through you. Your hand slowly reaches for the handle and when you open the door, you're pulled into a tight hug.

“Well look at you beautiful, where the fuck has Fish been hiding you?”

“Jesus Benny, will you put her down? Hi, I’m Will and this shithead is my baby brother Benny.” Once Benny puts you down you proceed to shake Will’s hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” you say as you close the door behind them. “Santi should be here soon, he just finished up work.”

“Perfect. I hope Frankie doesn’t mind that I organised all this, it’s our six-month anniversary and I wanted to meet you guys.” Benny fishes around the fridge for beer and Will makes his way outside to help set up the BBQ. “We’ve been asking a fish to meet you for ages but it’s always ‘yeah soon’ shit like that.”

Your doubts and insecurities begin to seep into your bones again. What if doesn’t want you to meet his friends? What if he’s embarrassed by you? What if he doesn’t think your relationship is as serious as you? Benny hands you a beer and you quickly shake those thoughts from your head.

“Want me to start up the grill?” Will asks as he takes a slug of his beer. “Oh, yeah that would be great actually. Thank you.”

“No problem.” The sound of a car pulling up catches everyone’s attention and Benny's face breaks out into a huge smile. “That would be Santi, I’ll let him in.” Oh! The nerves were back. This was Frankie’s best friend. What if he didn’t like you?

The sound of laughter filters through the hall and you find yourself looking for something to do so you head out back to join Will. He’s nice. Easy to talk to and he proceeds to ask how you like your steak when the sound of Benny’s loud voice breaks the conversation.

“Look who finally decided to show up.” Santi pulls Will into a hug before pulling back and locking eyes with you. “This beautiful creature must be Y/N. Frankie has told me so much about you. It's nice to finally meet you,” he says, pulling you into a hug. “He loves you, you know.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you say as your cheeks heat. “No, trust me, he does. I’ve never seen him this happy.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Everyone turns to the patio door where Frankie now stands. His face is blank, eyes cold but anger seeps off him in waves. He’s pissed.

“I invited the guys over, I hope you don’t mind, I just wanted to…” you stop when Frankie closes his eyes, pinching the bright of his nose as he lets out a huff of frustration. Santi, feeling the tension walks over to Frankie and claps him in the back, “come on Fish, Will has the food almost cooked. Grab a beer and take a seat.”

Frankie nods and heads inside to grab a beer before coming back outside and taking a seat. His eyes avoid you the entire time and he takes a seat beside Santi, leaving you to sit beside Benny.

“Grubs up.”

***

A worrisome feeling settles in your stomach as everyone sits and eats. The guys are all lovely and they include you in conversation as much as possible but Frankie still hasn’t looked at you. He’s never behaved like this with you and you feel nauseous at the thought that you’ve done something wrong.

Shuffling out of your seat, you offer to grab more beers and quickly make your way inside releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You take the beers out of the fridge and a deep voice startles you. “What the hell is going on? Why did you invite them here?”

“It’s our six-month anniversary and I just thought it would be nice to meet your friends, I….”

“Don’t you think if I wanted you to meet them, I would have done it already? How did you even get their numbers?” His words cut you like a knife and the way he’s looking at you - like you’ve broken his trust somehow, he might as well grab the knife and twist it in your gut.

“I got them from your phone last weekend when you were making dinner. Frankie, I didn’t think it…” He laughs then, but it’s not his usual warm hearty laugh. It’s almost sinister.

“That’s the problem isn’t it, you didn’t think. What, you thought you could bring my friends over and wear a skimpy dress like that and maybe get their attention? Is that it?”

Your heart is beating wildly in your chest. This isn’t the Frankie you know and love. He would never speak to you like this. “What? No! Frankie, I would never…”

“Save it. If you want to fuck one of them, go ahead. I saw you flirtin’ with Pope when I walked in, maybe he can fuck you just how you like.” He had started moving toward you now and you hadn’t realised he had backed you into the corner of the counter.

You try to calm him, moving your hand out to gently touch his chest but he grabs your wrist stopping you. “You're just like the others. Use me until something better comes along.”

“Frankie, I love you. I don’t want anyone else.” You try to convey all your emotions through the warmth on your face but his eyes are glazed over with anger. He isn’t listening to reason tonight.

“Hey man, that’s enough! Y/N only wanted to meet us and she wasn’t flirting with me. She had eyes for you.” Frankie turns around with a snarl on his face and points his finger at Santi. “You always want what you can’t have, Pope. It was the same with Sophia back in high school.”

You can’t take any more of this as the tears begin to spill down your cheeks. You move out of the kitchen while Frankie is distracted and grab your coat and bag and leave. He won’t even notice I’m gone.

“Fuck Fish that was years ago and technically she was mine first. I wasn’t after Y/N, and even if I was, she loves you, man. Lord knows why if this is how you behave around her, but she’s not like the others. She’s besotted by you and the only one you can’t see is you.”

“Guys!” Frankie and Santi continue to argue until Benny shouts louder. “Guys!”

“What?” They both say in unison. “She’s gone.”

“Fuck! What have I done?”

***

You’d taken your car and driven out to the lake, to the spot where Frankie had taken you one time on a date. You just needed to clear your head.

He’s never been like this before. You knew about his past. About all his exes and about his time in the army. About his cocaine usage. None of it mattered. Not until now at least. Did he not trust you?

Tears run down your cheeks as a sob escapes your throat. The moon is high in the sky tonight and it shines off the water. It’s beautiful.

“You’re beautiful.” You gasp as Frankie’s deep voice startles you. When the fuck did he get here? You turn away from him, eyes fixed on the water. He’d hurt you and you couldn’t look at him right now.

He slowly approaches and sits down on the grass beside you. You can feel his gaze burning a hole into the side of your face but you refuse to look at him. “I’m sorry baby. I…didn't mean anything I said back there…I-I just…fuck. I just came home and I saw you talking to Pope and you were laughing and I just…I saw all my exes and how they all cheated and I saw red.”

“You don’t trust me, Frankie. I don’t think you ever have and this won’t work if we don’t have trust.” Panic sets in and Frankie moves closer, his hand grazing the skin on your thigh. “Baby please…I-I don’t deserve you. That’s the truth. You are too good for me and I’m scared you’re gonna wake up one day and realise that.”

Taking a deep breath you turn your head towards him and you can see the sadness in his eyes as they look about towards the water. “Is that why you never wanted me to meet the guys?”

“I thought that if you met them that you would see what a fuck up I am and leave me. Any of them is a better catch than me.” You're still hurt and you don’t think it’s going to be this easy to get over but you love him so much and he has deep insecurities.

Reaching your hand out you cup his cheek and turn his face towards you. “Frankie, I love you. I don’t know how to make it any clearer, you’re it for me. I want to marry you and buy a bigger house somewhere and have babies. I know those other girls made you like you were good enough and that they broke your heart. But Frankie you’re enough.”

His lips crash onto yours and his hands wrap around your waist pulling you close. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles into your lips. “I’m sorry….I’m sorry,” his lips trail along your cheek and down your neck. “I love you, baby. So fucking much and if you can forgive me for being a dick, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

“The rest of your life Huh?” He nods his head and pulls you in for another kiss. “What you said hurt Frankie but I do love you so I’m willing to keep trying.”

“That’s more than I deserve. Now baby, let’s go home and I’ll introduce you to the guys properly.”

***

Frankie didn’t let you out of his sight the rest of the night as you laughed at the stories the guys told of Frankie on the base. His cheeks were tinged pink as they embarrassed him but you reached out and grabbed his hand squeezing tight in reassurance.

He tugged on your arm and pulled you into his lap, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You wiggled your ass in his lap trying to get comfortable and are shocked when he moans loudly into your skin. “Baby, you gotta stop moving that fine ass over my cock or I’ll take you here and now.”

Heat began to form in your stomach as he gripped your hips tight. His fingers slide up under your dress towards your clothed cunt and he moans again at the feel of your wetness. “Fuck baby you’re so wet. This for me?”

You nod your head unable to speak and his fingers push your panties aside and slip inside your aching heat. Biting your lip - trying hard to keep quiet as he works you with his fingers.

“Good girl. Don’t want the guys to know what we’re doing now do we?” Your eyes flicker around the table and you're thankful the guys seem to be deep in conversation that they don’t notice. “Gonna make you come on my fingers then I’m gonna take you inside and fuck you good.”

His fingers work in and out of your cunt curling slightly as his thumb rubs your bundle of nerves. A tingle works its way up your spine and your heart beats faster and faster the closer you come to your release.

Your hand grins the arm of the chair tight and you struggle to keep your eyes open as you feel the beginnings of your climax. You want to scream. Scream his name so fucking loud but you can’t and oh fuck…

Your body shudders in his lap as you come hard. Your vision, blurring as pleasure courses through you. “Good girl.” His fingers slip out of you and he brings them to his lips sucking your juices off them.

Standing, you excuse yourself and make your way into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. His hands wrapped around your waist startle you and you can feel his hard cock against your ass.

“That was so fucking hot baby. Wanna fuck you now though. Will you let me? Will you let me fuck right here where the guys could walk in any moment and catch us?”

“Yes! Fuck Frankie please…” You can feel his grin against the skin of your neck as he bites into it. “Please what baby?”

“Fuck me.” He quickly undoes his belt and pulls his trousers and boxers down bunching at his knees as he rips your panties off. “Hey! Those were my favourite.”

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” He runs the tip of his cock along your slit coating it in your juices before lining up and thrusting inside you. You both moan as he fills you. There’s a slight burn from the stretch but he gives you a minute to adjust.

You move your ass back against him, urging him to move. His hands grip your hips as he thrusts up into you. His cock moving in and out of your tight heat, the sounds of your joint moans and the squelch of your cunt the only sound you hear.

“Fuck mi amor…never gonna get used to how tight you are. So fucking good…” His hand snakes around to your clit and he begins to rub circles as you feel that heat radiating through you. “Oh fuck Frankie…”

“That’s it, baby…come for me…Mierda…need you to come…I’m not gonna last…” His movements on your clit become more frantic and with a cry of his name you come around him. The feeling of your cunt pulsating around him sends him over the edge as he spills inside you. The thought of you becoming round with his child sends him into a frenzy.

His head rests between your shoulders as you both calm your breathing. “That was amazing.”

“Is it safe to come in now? I need to use the toilet.” The sound of Benny’s voice has you both pulling away quickly and dressing. “You can come in now.” Benny walks in with a huge smirk on his face. “Your fly is undone Fish.” He says as he moves towards the bathroom. Frankie looks down quickly realising he was taking the piss.

“Idiota.”

***

If any of the others heard, they didn’t say anything and the rest of the night passed quickly. “Alright man, time we head on out. Y/N it was lovely to finally meet you. Fish you got a good one.”

“I know.” He says as he pulls you into his side, his hand resting on your hip. When everyone is gone and you’ve both tidied up a bit you make your way to bed. Frankie pulls you into his side, his fingers running along your bare back as he stares up at the ceiling.

“What ya thinking about?” You say as you play with the hair on his chest. “Hmm?”

“You look lost in thought.” He turns on his side so he faces you, his hand resting over you. “Move in with me?”

“What?” You dart your eyes between his looking for something but all you see is sincerity. “I want you to move in with me. Hell, I’d ask you to marry me if I thought you’d say yes. I wanna spend my life with you and I love waking up in the mornings to have you cuddled into my side.”

Ok. Yeah I’ll move in with you. Also if you were to ask me to marry you someday, I’d say yes.” He kisses you softly before resting his head against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @athalien @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy @trickstersp8 @nembees @kaitieskidmore1 @mswarriorbabe80 @deliriosinrose @allthe-ships @tintinn16 @sirpascal @manuymesut

Frankie Morales: @paulalikestuff @vanemando15 @hb8301 @djarinslove @browneyes-issac @agingerindenial @afootnoteinyourhappiness @almaeunice @readsalot73 @marielovesstuff @a3trogirl @loonymagizoologist

[sacredsorceress]

Green || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: three times bucky realized you were more than a friend and the one time he finally admitted it (based on events from tfatws)

a/n: finishing this in time for the season finale tomorrow! reblogs and/or replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of reader wearing a short dress, jealous bucky

masterlist || request || taglist

#1

“Nice of you guys to call me.”

Your hands in your jacket pockets, you announced your presence as you strolled up to the group of four men standing outside of the police station. You could basically feel the tension in the air as each man had a resolute expression written on all over their faces.

“What’s going on here?” You asked, slipping your hands out of your pockets and gesturing towards the group.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked.

You might have been nicer about the situation if you weren’t utterly pissed that the two men hadn’t informed you about the mission that they had gone on.

“Incase you forgot, Sam, you’re not the only one who’s had to pick up where someone else left off. It’s my job to keep track of you guys.” You said. “... Also I’m Bucky’s emergency contact.”

“Well,” The blonde man leaning against the police cruiser said. “You’re a little late. I handled it.”

Looking up at the man in front of you, you gave him no inclination of defeat.

“You must be John Walker.” You said.

“So you’ve heard of me?” He smirked.

You crossed your arms, stepping away from the man who you had seen on television playing the role of Captain America. You had heard about the decision moments before the government had first displayed the impersonator on screen, but it had been too late for you to do anything about it or to inform Sam or Bucky in time for his appearance.

“I’ve heard of everyone.” You deadpanned.

“Yeah?” He asked, standing up straighter. “And who are you?”

Just as you were about to open your mouth, you felt Bucky’s hand land on your shoulder. Turning to glance at him, you watched as he shook his head, giving you a serious look. Despite the fact that you were now tasked with keeping track of the former members of the group of Avengers and were one yourself, you had been able to keep your identity a secret. Although to the world you were “Sorceress”- the Avenger with magical powers similar to those of Wanda Maximoff- to members of the team such as Bucky you were Y/n Y/l/n.

He didn’t trust John Walker and he didn’t want to bring you into their own mess. Although Bucky had been avoiding Sam’s text messages, Bucky had kept in constant touch with you since you first met him after he had come back from the Blip six months ago- even going as far as spending time together multiple times a week in person- not because you had to keep track of him, but because the two of you genuinely enjoyed spending time together. 

You were the closest thing he had to normalcy and he didn’t want the knockoff version of his best friend messing it up not only for himself, but for you too.

However, you didn’t see much of a way out of it. You weren’t going to just leave Bucky and Sam to handle the situation on their own, but you also didn’t see a way that you could work alongside them and not have John and Lemar figure out your identity sooner or later.

Gently taking Bucky’s hand off of your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before dropping it, you reached out your hand to John Walker.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” You told him. “Sorceress... and I guess the current caretaker of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier.”

Later, after the group had dispersed and you followed Sam and Bucky as they walked in the opposite direction, you were surprised when you heard Bucky’s tone of voice when he finally spoke up again.

“You shouldn’t have given him your name, Y/n.” He said.

You shrugged, hands tucked into your pockets once again. “It’s fine, Buck.” You assured him. “There wasn’t much else I could do. He was going to find out eventually-”

“Don’t act so casual about it. This is your identity- your life- and you’re just going to share it with some asshole like John Walker?”

“Woah!” You exclaimed, stopping in your spot. “What’s your problem, Buck? Why do you care so much?”

Noticing how both you and Sam were staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to comprehend why he was making such a “big deal” about it, Bucky grew embarrassed, not understanding himself why he cared so much. Rather than admitting defeat however, Bucky threw up his hands, scoffing.

“Forget it, Y/n. I don’t care. Do what you want.”

And with that he picked up the pace, walking in the opposite direction of where you and Sam stood confused in your spots.

#2

“I couldn’t have worn something- I don’t know- a bit longer?” You called to the three men ahead of you, following them into the club as you tugged on the hem of your short dress.

“This a club in Madripoor, Y/n.” You heard Zemo say. “If you wore anything else you would be giving us away.”

Groaning you steadied yourself in your heels following behind Zemo and Sam. You slowed your pace to walk besides Bucky who had insisted on being at the back of the line behind you- telling everyone that it would be safer for everyone if he kept their backs covered.

“How are you feeling?” You asked as quietly as you could in the loud club.

“What?” He asked.

“How are you feeling? With the while Winter Soldier thing? If you don’t think you can handle it we can find another way-”

“It’s fine, Y/n.” He said. “Don’t worry about me.”

Instead of letting it go, you gently placed your hand on his exposed, vibranium arm, causing him to stop in his spot, looking at you.

“Bucky, I’m serious.” You said. “You matter too. If you can’t handle it, I’ll find a way to get the information without all of this, okay? I care about you, Buck. Just say the word.”

He almost couldn't focus on the words coming out of your mouth as he tried to keep his eyes focused on your face, rather than trailing down your body, finally noticing just how short the dress that was adorning your body was. As good as you looked in green, he swore he would kill Zemo once he got what he needed from him for dressing you in that.

As gorgeous as you were, however, your words meant everything to him and he hung on to every single one- no matter what you were saying. Hearing the sentiment that you had for him and that you would stick your neck out for him of all people made him speechless.

Just as he was about to open his mouth however, the two of you began to feel the eyes of other partygoers staring the two of you down. As soon as you noticed, you quickly snatched your hand away from his arm and continued your pace in front of him, Bucky quickly following behind.

“Distracted?” Zemo asked as Bucky stopped beside him at the bar.

Rather than answering, Bucky remained silent, falling into character with the thought of your shared interaction still playing over and over in his mind.

#3

Coughing on his hands and knees, trying to process what had just happened, all Bucky could hear was the obnoxious sound of the alarm blaring. When he opened his eyes again he saw the shipping container now consumed with flames and illuminated with a daunting red light. Recalling what had just occurred, he scrambled to his feet, calling out for you.

“Y/n?” He called. “Y/n!”

When he didn't immediately hear your voice, he began to feel his heart race in his chest. What if something happened to you? What if you were too close to the explosion? He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if something had happened to you. Just as he was beginning to start hyperventilating, the smoke catching in his chest causing him to double over and heave, he felt your hands wrap around either of his biceps.

“Buck?” You asked. “I’m- I’m so sorry. It happened so fast I couldn’t get a forcefield around everyone. Thank God you’re okay. I was so afraid something happened-”

Cutting you off, Bucky shook your hands off of his arms, instead pulling you into his arms. Although you and the super soldier had spent more quality time than you could count together prior to starting this mission, you had never hugged before, but being in his arms you couldn’t find a single complaint, instead silently wrapping your arms tightly around his torso, running your hands up and down his back.

“Hey it’s okay, Buck. I’m okay.” You said. “Let’s go, okay? Before this thing collapses on us.”

After that the two of you had followed Sam and Sharon into the area of shipping containers, taking out hitman by hitman along the way, when you had finally gotten through all of them, you watched as Zemo pulled up in a car besides the four of you.

“Nice ride.” You said as Bucky slipped into the front seat of the vehicle, yourself sliding into one of the seats in the back row.

“Thank you, Y/n.” Zemo replied, patting Bucky on the chest. “She’s a woman of taste.”

Bucky swore to himself for the second time within the past 12 hours that when given the chance he was going to kill the man beside him- with or without his therapist’s approval.

“You’re not going to move your seat up are you?” Sam asked.

“Nope.” Bucky said.

“That’s fine.” Sam conceded. “I guess I’ll just chill back here with Y/n.”

You laughed as Sam laid his arm against headrest of the backseats of the car.

“I’m fine with that.” You said. “Just me and my favorite person.”

Now Bucky knew that you were kidding, only teasing him to get a rise out of him, but glancing at the backseat and seeing Sam’s arm practically around your shoulders and you calling him your favorite person... just didn’t sit right with Bucky. Just as Zemo’s foot was about to hit the gas, Bucky shifted the car into park, swinging the door open and stepping out of the vehicle.

“What-”

“You can have the front.” Bucky said, swinging Sam’s door open.

“It’s really okay, Buck-”

“You said you wanted more space so you can have the front.” He said. “Go sit in the front.”

You watched as Sam turned to you, quirking his eyebrows before shrugging and stepping out of the car, switching to the passenger seat. You almost wanted to laugh as you watched Bucky squeeze into the backseat behind the passenger seat, his knees practically up against his chest.

“You good?” You asked.

Despite the groan that had involuntarily escaped his mouth from the discomfort of the front seat digging into his knees, Bucky nodded, stretching his arm out across the backseat, behind your shoulders.

“I’m great.” He assured you. “Now drive, Zemo.”

Although you didn’t catch it, the two men sitting in the front seat- despite their differences- couldn’t help but throw each other a knowing look before the car took off for their next destination.

#4

“Hey!” Torres called. “I see you got your sleeve back!”

You chuckled as you turned to glance at the man stood beside you. Despite it being a joke, not a single hint of a smile cracked the man’s hard exterior. The only reason he didn’t walk out of the room on the spot was because you were standing beside him.

“He’s just in a bad mood today.” You said, reaching your hand out to shake Torres’. “I’m Y/n.”

Taking your hand and shaking it in his, he furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you doing hanging around these guys?” He asked. “...Not that you can’t handle yourself! Sam just won’t even invite me on these things.”

Pulling your hand away from his, you smiled. “Think you can keep a secret?”

As soon as you asked the question you watched as the confusion written all over his face grew even more and you could hear Sam chuckling in the background.

“I’m Sorceress.” You said. “Like the Avenger? I just try to keep my identity pretty secret, you know?”

As soon as you revealed your identity to him, you watched as the man’s face dropped and he turned to look at Sam who was standing behind him.

“Wait- she’s-” Torres stuttered.

Sam nodded, laughing.

“Yep.” Sam said. “She’s the one you’ve been hounding me about setting you up with.”

Although you weren’t paying attention to him, Bucky had already disliked how the conversation was going- finding Torres to be a little too friendly for his liking and not loving that you exposed your identity to him immediately- but when he heard Sam’s confession, he stiffened in his spot, hands balling into fists at his side.

“What? Dude!” Torres exclaimed, glancing back and forth between you and Sam before finally turning back to you, chuckling nervously. “He's just kidding! I would never have a crush on you- wait! That came out wrong! Not that you’re not pretty because you are- I just think you’re cool-”

You continued laughing as the man stumbling over his words in front of you, finding it endearing until you heard the super soldier scoff beside you. You glanced at him only to see him cross his arms while rolling his eyes before making his way out of the room.

Turning back to Torres you gave him a quick smile, pulling a card out of your pocket. “I have to go, but it was nice to meet you Torres. If these boys get in trouble again, make sure to call me first thing, okay?”

He took the card from your hand, nodding. “Uh yeah- yeah! Of course!”

With that you waved to both him and Sam before following the path Bucky had taken out of the room seconds before.

Seeing his figure pacing across the room, you threw your arms up in the air.

“What’s your problem?” You asked.

Stopping in his spot he turned to face you.

“What?” He said. “I don’t have a problem.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, crossing your arms. 

“Uh yeah. You do.” You said. “Did I do something to piss you off or something? Are you mad at me for coming on the mission? Because I’m sorry if I wanted to help save the world and make sure you guys didn’t get killed in the process.”

Bucky just stopped and stared at you standing across from him with your arms crossed. He hated to admit it, but you look pissed at him. It hurt knowing that you were upset with him, but it hurt a little more knowing that you felt as though he was mad at you when in actuality that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Y/n.” He said, stepping closer to you. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why did you just storm out of the room?” You asked.

He couldn’t think of a reason besides the truth. He could lie and say that he was   mad at you, but that wouldn’t solve the situation for anyone and could possibly strain your relationship farther- and that was the last thing he could possibly want.

The two of you stood there in silence, staring at one another as Bucky attempted to find the words in his head to ease your concern without exposing himself in the process.

But you were never one to back down with him.

“Bucky,” You said. “What’s the problem? What did I do? Why are you so angry-”

“Because I don’t like the way that guy was talking to you!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air.

“What?” You asked. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky realized he was in it now. He couldn’t see a way out of it.

For the past week, Bucky couldn’t help but notice that he cared for you a bit more than friends should. Maybe he always did. He thought back to the times he would eagerly await your weekly lunches or the comfort he felt when you took him furniture shopping after seeing his empty apartment for the first time. He thought back to the times you would show up outside of his door when he was upset because you were the only person he trusted there with him in those intimate moments- he knew that you were more than just his colleague, but he realized now that you were more than his friend.

Recently it became more obvious, the burning in his chest he felt when others became a little too comfortable with you- he attempted to mask it with just wanting to protect you, but he knew you could handle yourself. He was protective over you so he wouldn’t lose you.

Just when you opened your mouth to speak again, he cupped your face in his hands. He watched as your eyes widened, but didn’t make any move to stop him. When he caught your eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips, he pulled you towards him, meeting your lips in the middle.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t kissed anyone in eighty years, but he had never felt the way he had in that moment before. He was so utterly consumed in you- the feeling of your hands reaching for his jacket, tugging him closer as you deepened the kiss, your soft lips against his, your warm breath against his face- he was lost in it.

When you finally pulled away, he didn’t want to let go, but leaned back anyway, staring at his world- you- that he now held in his hands.

“Buck...”

“I think I like you more than a friend.” He confessed.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face at his words. You had always cared for Bucky as more than just your former fellow Avenger, but knowing that he felt the same as you was something you could hardly believe.

“I think I do too.” You laughed, then recalled what you had come in there for in the first place. “James, were you... were you jealous?”

Thinking back over the past week the two of you had spent together on the mission, he could almost laugh at the question you had just asked.

“You’re joking, right?” He chuckled. “Yeah. You could say I was a little bit jealous.”

[lollypopsx]

Flatmate! Harry: I’ll Make It Up To You - Part 1

Warnings: Swearing, slight angst 

Please like if it’s not too shabby, reblog for anyone who may enjoy this and follow if you want to see more! Any suggestions are happily taken for future writing! I love you all! be safe and be kind x

Part 2 - Part 3

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You was going to kill him. This was the last straw and you had used up every ounce of patience today.

“Harry Edward Styles! Get in here right now or I swear to fucking god you won’t ever breath again!” You shout, your hands clutching the towel wrapped around your body. Your hair styled in a bouncy blow dry with a full face of makeup, a brown smoky eye and a nude lip.

The two of you bicker and argue like enemies, laugh like the best of friends and love each other like a married couple. Although you were only flat mates and nothing had ever gone further than friends, you knew Harry would never see you in that way, however the tiniest part of you had always hoped one day you’d be proven wrong. But you knew all along you’d rather have him as a best friend than lose him all together.

You hear the footsteps round the corner and a grin like the Cheshire Cat plastered on Harrys face “Do you mind? I’m trying to write some music Y/N” he smirks.

“Where the hell are all my clothes?! And where the fuck is my guitar?!” You shout angrily. You were no stranger to practical jokes in this house, both giving and receiving them. But today was different. You had the most important audition of your lifetime, and half of your room had been emptied. 

The laughter escaping Harry’s lips was making you angrier and angrier by the second. “I told you that you’d regret stealing my jumpers!” He smirks.

“That doesn’t mean you take everything I own! Now where to hell is it all?!”

“Ah now you see…this is where it gets fun…you see we’ve made you a little scavenger hunt to find it all. All you have to do is-”

“We?! Who’s we?!” You growl through gritted teeth.

“Ok ok…I can’t take all the credit for this…Niall helped. So…here’s the rules!”

“Harry!” You cut him off “I don’t have time for a fucking scavenger hunt! I have my audition in an hour and I’m already running late! Just get me some fucking clothes and my guitar so I can leave!”

As soon as you had mentioned your audition, the smug grin fell from Harrys face and his rosy cheeks had drained to pale “oh shit. T-that’s today?! I…I thought it was Friday” he frowns “w-well all your stuff is in Niall’s car and he’s in Brighton so I can just get him to drive back asap and…” he fumbles for his phone quickly.

“Brighton?! Harry you have 3 seconds to tell me this is a joke before I rip your pretty little head off! That’s 2 hours away Harry! I’ll never make it in time!”

“Y/N I’m so sorry! I am I really am, I would never have done this today if I knew” Guilt filling his eyes.

“You knew Harry! It’s written on the fridge, on the calendar and you helped me rehearse two days ago!”

“Why don’t I just go and buy you something to wear?” He offers, although he was currently terrified to speak incase his head really did get ripped off. He hadn’t seen you this angry since you pierced holes in three of your ex-boyfriends tyres after finding out he cheated.

“Well that’s pointless because I haven’t got my guitar and you don’t even have your acoustic guitar here. Forget it Harry. Just get out.” You mutter, your head hanging low in disappointment. Even if you left now you’d be late, and that was frowned upon. Turning up anywhere late was bad enough, let alone an audition. If you’re going to turn up late, then there’s no point turning up at all because you wouldn’t even be given a chance. The entertainment business was a difficult place to be, and this was your one chance to really make something bigger for yourself and it was ruined.

“Y/N I…”

“I said get out!” You scream, releasing the built up fury “go and join Niall in Brighton for all I fucking care. Leave me alone. I’m so disappointed Harry” you felt the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

The sight of you on the verge of tears was enough to break his heart. He wanted to protest, he wanted to make it all better. But he knew you too well. He knew if he didn’t leave you alone to calm down then it would make everything worse than it already was. He had never felt so guilty. In the 4 years you had lived together, practical jokes never made either of you angry. Sure they were embarrassing at times, but you two always had the best of times. At what made it even worse this time was that he had made you cry…and you’d used the ‘D’ word on him!

Harry had left, shutting the front door quietly as he headed to the studio to get out of your hair for a few hours. Also calling Niall in the process to get him to get the fuck home asap. It may have seemed like a pretty extreme joke, but they didn’t intend it to turn out this way. The plan was that the scavenger hunt would lead you to Brighton with Harry to meet Niall there, and the three of you would spend the day and night by the beach, shopping, drinking, eating...everything that you loved to do.

As hours passed, you found yourself tucked under the mountain of blankets on the sofa, wearing a pair of Harry’s boxers, joggers and a white hoodie. Which you purposely chose because your makeup rubbed off on the collar and the sleeves as you wiped your tears. 

You felt deflated and disappointed. You should have been more prepared...no actually, Harry shouldn’t of been a dick. You knew he didn’t mean to jeopardize your audition, but these auditions didn’t come along often and part of you just wasn’t ready to let this go yet.

Harry crept in quietly, although you didn’t hear him, or at least you didn’t want to. “ Hey...Y/N” he whispers softly, walking through the living room door cautiously.

“Hm?” you mutter, not allowing yourself to speak a word to him, and especially making sure your eyes were glued to Netflix, not giving him the satisfaction of paying attention.

“I...I got you these” He whispers, placing a big bouquet of red roses and white lilies on the glass coffee table in front of you. You looked straight passed them “Oh wow...maybe I should send these over to the directors and producers to say sorry and maybe they can make an exception for little Y/N to try again!” you state sarcastically, but your facial expression staying as blank as possible.

He sighs softly and perches himself on the arm of the sofa, he gently pulls your shoulders back for you to rest your back against his thigh. “I know it doesn’t change what I did Y/N, and believe me if I could of changed anything I would, and if I could turn back time, I’d do anything”

“You really fucked up Harry” you whisper, your voice cracking gently as you wiped your tears on the sleeve of his hoodie. “You don’t get it. You’re Harry Styles and you get everything handed to you on a plate because everyone already knows who you are! You’ve done what like...three auditions in your life and you’ve succeeded every single one. It’s not like that for me. I spent hours and hours practicing. And weeks just writing these songs in hope they get heard one day and now they won’t because word spreads really quick in this industry.” You still couldn’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, because you hated people seeing you cry. 

He sighed softly, staying silent as he pulled you up gently and sitting himself underneath you as he wrapped his arms around you tightly. He was always the first to help you rehearse when you had an audition, the first to comfort you if it went wrong or you didn’t succeed, and the first to celebrate and congratulate you when you did get it. Unfortunately, this time no one will ever know how it would have gone. He knew he couldn’t say much else because he knew you were right.  

You wanted to resist, but instead you buried your face into his chest and whimpered softly. As disappointed as you were, you knew Harry was truly sorry and he’d hang onto this guilt for a while. He held you close as his gentle fingers raked through your hair.

“I’ve put everything back in your room, all folded and neat” He whispers “I’ll make it up to you. I promise” He kept his arms around you supportively, although his chest was heavy with guilt, he already had a plan conjuring in his mind. 

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