#and it's not quite the same as being in each other's arms

[brainddeadd]

lando is a big yapper but also seems to love his quiet time alone for peace so he has the sweetest and shy gf ever and they fit perfect, when he yaps she listens and helm when he needs some comfortable quite she is perfect, and it surprised people who well they got together because he’s so loud and talkative but she sees the side of him that needs the quiet and calm

The Perfect Balance

Lando Norris was known for his boundless energy, quick wit, and endless chatter. Whether it was in interviews, streaming on Twitch, or goofing around with his teammates, he always had something to say. So, when people learned about his girlfriend—quiet, reserved, and as soft-spoken as they come—they were baffled.

“She must be so overwhelmed by him,” some speculated.

But nothing could be further from the truth.

The truth was, she saw a side of him no one else did. When the cameras weren’t on, and the adrenaline faded, Lando often sought her out—not for a lively conversation, but for the stillness she brought to his chaotic world.

They were curled up on the couch in his Monaco apartment, the soft hum of a Formula 1 highlights video playing in the background. Lando had been talking nonstop for the past twenty minutes about strategy, tire choices, and “how George absolutely screwed up his corner exit at Suzuka.”

She sat there beside him, legs tucked underneath her, nodding along. Her hand absentmindedly played with the hem of his hoodie, and every now and then, she’d let out a soft giggle at his more exaggerated reenactments.

“You’re listening, right?” he asked suddenly, leaning closer with a faux-suspicious squint.

“Of course,” she murmured, a small smile playing on her lips. “I always do.”

Her quiet voice had a way of cutting through his constant buzz like a balm. She didn’t have to say much for him to feel completely seen.

As the evening wore on, the chatter naturally began to die down. Lando stretched his arms above his head, let out a satisfied yawn, and flopped sideways, his head landing in her lap.

“What’re you doing?” she asked softly, brushing a few stray curls from his forehead.

“Just...need a break,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. He closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath.

She knew this part of him well—the version of Lando who needed quiet to recharge. It was a side that few people saw but one she cherished the most.

Her fingers carded through his hair in soothing strokes as he lay there, his eyes growing heavier by the second.

“You’re good at this, you know,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Good at what?”

“Being what I need,” he said, cracking a soft smile without opening his eyes.

Their dynamic was puzzling to those who only saw the loud, boisterous side of Lando. But she didn’t need to explain it to anyone—she understood him. The Lando who dominated press conferences and racked up podiums was the same Lando who sought out her quiet presence like a lifeline.

In turn, he loved how she listened, how she never tried to match his energy, and how her calm demeanor grounded him in a way no one else ever could.

They didn’t have to make sense to anyone else. They made perfect sense to each other.

[oneluckydumbass]

Sabotage || chapter one

pairing: Charles x reader x Max (based on votes, but I might post another poll to confirm after a few chapters)

summary: You have a new boyfriend, and after it becomes clear attending race weekends isn’t so important to you anymore, your best friend and your “it’s complicated” person join forces to sabotage your relationship.

…

Rolling your eyes, you pick up a pillow and try to playfully hit your friend with it, but your effort is futile, because he catches it with ease, then tosses it on the floor next to the bed. He’s shamelessly laughing at you, but then he turns on his stomach and buries his face into the space between your shoulder and his pillow.

You’ve been stuck together like glue for over a decade, spending an unhealthy amount of time together, so the fact you’re lying in bed next to each other doesn’t mean much to either of you. He’s your best friend and nothing more, no matter what the press and fans say.

Just when you think he drifted back to sleep, a muffled voice cuts through the silence of the room. “Did you say something?” you ask with a laugh as you tussle his already messy hair.

A groan follows your words, and he lifts his head a little. “I said, I’m starving,” he repeats, this time letting you hear him loud and clear.

A small smile creeps on your lips as you watch him, taking a good look at those green eyes that are blinking drowsily at you. He’s hungover, so this means he needs his usual breakfast to get through the morning, and you’re more than happy to make it for him as usual. When the roles are reversed and it’s you who needs it, he does the same for you, so you don’t hesitate to push the blanket to the side and slip out of bed.

Well, you try to get out of bed, because Charles quickly wraps an arm around you to keep you in place. He digs his thumb into the plush flesh of your hips as his hand moves a little lower on your body. The look he gives you makes it clear he’s not gonna let you get away from him anytime soon despite the hunger that makes his stomach growl.

As soon as you cover yourself again with the blanket, he lets his head fall back on the pillow, being close enough to place a kiss on your shoulder before letting out a soft sigh of relief. Winning his home grand prix must have been one hell of a high, coming down from that and trying to sober up after the party the night before must be quite a challenge for today.

His breathing soon changes, it becomes slower, more even, and you think it might be time to go back to sleep yourself to recharge your batteries enough to function today. Just when you reach the edge of sleep, though, you hear your friend mutter something again, and he only repeats it a little louder when you let out a questioning hum.

“I’m gonna ask Arthur to bring us breakfast. He has nothing better to do today and he has a key,” he tells you the plan, earning a disapproving sigh from you. “What? He’s my little brother, this is the least he can do.”

There’s an edge to his rough, raspy voice that gives the statement the kind of finality you just can’t fight against. So you nod and close your eyes again, focusing on the sounds of him moving to get his phone and type a message to his brother. Once he’s done, he lies on his back and lets out a long sigh.

“I asked him to go to that little bistro where we eat and told him to ask for our usual, if that’s okay,” he says.

You open your eyes a little to look at him, a smile already playing on your lips as you turn on your side. “That’s quite a detour for him,” you note.

Charles lets out a huff. “I told him to bring himself something too so we can eat together,” he tells you, then he turns to you with that usual, boyish smile of his. “I transferred more than enough money, so yeah, he gets a little extra for the delivery and a hefty tip.”

After a nod, you prop on your elbow and watch him without saying a word. He hums to urge you to speak up, but before you could talk, your phone on the nightstand starts to ring. When you look at the screen, you can’t fight back the wide grin that wants to creep on your face, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by your friend.

“I need to take this,” you tell him, sort of as an apology for crawling out of bed to leave the room.

To be honest, you didn’t expect him to call. The whole time you thought the buzzing environment of the paddock made him say those things, but here you are, seeing his name flash on the screen so soon after race day. Shane is handsome, and nice, and he’s as far from the world of motorsports as possible.

A breath of fresh air, really.

He’s a fashion photographer, and he only attended the grand prix because he had to take some photos of Lewis and George, so the team thought it would be nice to give him a pass for the weekend. There he bumped into you, started a conversation, sat down for lunch with you, then asked for your number before going home. And now he wants a date, much to your surprise.

When he suggests meeting in New Zealand, you begin to talk about his new gig there, and you get so lost in the conversation that you only notice Arthur when he puts the boxes next to you in the kitchen with a wide grin on his face. It doesn’t seem to bother him that you’re on the phone with someone, because he kisses you on the cheek, then waits for you to tell him where his brother can be found.

Several minutes later you hear Charles ask “what” in the other room, which is followed by the sound of someone running towards you. You watch as he skids into the kitchen, then he takes the phone from your hand and holds up a finger to stop you from talking. Arthur massages the bridge of his nose in the background, while you’re trying to process what just happened.

“Are you really ditching her for some model? Come on, dude, I thought we—” Suddenly he stops talking and his eyes widen from surprise. “Oh, who am I speaking to?”

You watch as he tries to explain himself, looking embarrassed as he should be, and you occasionally glance over at Arthur who can barely hold back his emotions. Once your friend hands you the phone with a guilty expression on his face, you can’t help but feel sorry for him, especially after his little brother starts to point a finger at him as he erupts in laughter.

After saying goodbye to Shane, you end the call and watch as Charles gives his brother a disapproving look before playfully slapping his arm. “That’s not funny, I thought she was talking to Max again,” he says.

Here you go again. “Even if I was talking to him, it would be none of your business,” you warn him with an angry look in your eyes.

You’ve been over this so many times during your entire friendship, but he still feels like he has to protect you from him, as if Max is some vicious predator that wants to eat you alive. The two of you occasionally try to make this work between you, but more often than not it remains a friends with benefits setup. It seems like neither of you is ready to be in a committed relationship.

Your brother once hinted at the Dutchman’s annoyance whenever it came to your close friendship with his rival. For some reason he sees Charles as a threat, not only on the track, but in your relationship too. And given his friendship with your brother, you get these comments about your friend from two people, which makes it even more annoying.

And now you have to deal with the Monegasque’s overprotective personality too, which tells you this breakfast won’t be accompanied by carefree conversations between the three of you. You know you have to tell him that there is someone new in your life, and can only hope he will be a little relieved that it’s not who he thought it was.

While Arthur sits on a barstool next to the kitchen island, you and Charles bring some plates and silverware for the food, and you three dig in without hesitation. Even though your focus is on Arthur who’s talking about the party the night before, you can still feel your best friend’s eyes on you, burning a hole into your skull as he watches you.

“So who’s the guy?” he suddenly asks. You turn to him with a raised eyebrow. “You never told me you’re seeing someone.”

Letting out a sigh, you put down the fork and lean back a little. “I only met him on Saturday. This was the first time he called, there’s nothing to tell yet,” you reply, giving him a look that says enough of the questions.

“Yet? You mean you’ll meet him?” he wonders, completely ignoring your silent request.

“And what if I will?”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see the way Arthur winces and slips off the chair with his orange juice in hand, then moves to the living room to give you some space to talk. You and Charles only stare at each other for a while, both of you waiting for the other to say something, but deep down you know it’s him who has some explaining to do.

Since he doesn’t speak up, you return your attention to your breakfast and take a bite with your eyes still fixed on your friend. In the end, he lets out a sigh and reaches out to put a hand on your wrist. “Look, I’m just worried, okay? You barely know the guy,” he tells you.

Rolling your eyes at him, you end up shaking your head. “Meeting him will help me get to know him. In case you’ve forgotten, this is how dating works.” He licks his lips, a nervous expression visible on his face as he picks at his own food with the fork. You have no idea what could possibly be wrong with him, but you feel like telling him the facts and nothing more could be helpful. “We’ll have a few days for that next weekend in New Zealand.”

This catches his attention, because he looks back up at you. “But that’s the next race weekend,” he says, sounding surprised that you dared to plan something for the same time. When you give him a questioning look, he takes a deep breath. “You’ve never missed a race, I just… I don’t know. It would be weird to be there without you,” he replies.

“You can’t expect me to put my life on hold because you want me to be there at every race weekend. I gave up enough already, I’m not gonna waste more chances. I like this guy.”

“Does he have a name?”

Your eyes narrow because you know exactly what this is about. “You want to do some research,” you state with an annoyed sigh.

Charles shrugs, and you can’t help but roll your eyes before giving him the guy’s name, although he doesn’t seem to recognize it, so you explain what he does for a living. Those mesmerizing green eyes of his are mirroring the concentration he needs to remember every detail, and you can’t help but wonder why he finds this so interesting.

After all, you never say a word about his girlfriends, you never pry for more information, you just go with the flow and let him have his fun. It’s usually Max who’s more interested in who you’re dating, but even he restrains himself before he would interfere. At least the two of you have history, there’s a logical explanation for his reaction.

But this? Now, this you can’t put a finger on.

“Guys, we have a problem,” you hear Arthur’s voice before he appears in the kitchen, his phone held up. You exchange a confused look with Charles, then your eyes move to his little brother. “Mom wants me to have dinner with her.”

“Why’s that a problem?” Charles asks.

After a gulp, Arthur clears his throat and sits back on the barstool he previously occupied. “Um, well, she might have found out about my girlfriend, and now she wants to meet her,” he replies with an awkward smile.

His brother flashes a wide grin at him. “Why didn’t you tell me about her? What is she like? And what’s her name? Where did you even meet her?”

Shaking your head with a laugh, you reach out to take his hand and squeeze it gently. “I guess this is exactly why he didn’t say a word. No one needs the Spanish Inquisition.” When Charles opens his mouth to protest, you give him a warning look. “This is exactly what you did with me just a few minutes ago. Give him the chance to decide when he’s ready to talk about her.”

Arthur flashes a thankful smile at you, then takes a deep breath and begins to tell you about the girl. He really likes her, and this big, stupid smile on his face tells you that he really just wanted to protect her from this madness. When you look over at Charles, you notice how his expression softened, and in the end he assures his brother that he will talk to their mother and ask her to be patient.

Maybe there’s still hope for him after all.

[russo-woso]

I’m always going to be here || Mary Earps x reader

Masterlist | Prompt List

Request Mary’s last night in England before going to Paris but R isn’t going with her

Warning nothing really but just have tissues prepared cause it’s a sad one

Summary Mary had the difficult decision of not only leaving Manchester United, but also you.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You knew today would be a hard day, a very very hard day.

It had been a hard choice for Mary to leave United but it had been an even harder choice to go to PSG.

It had been so hard because she wasn’t just leaving her friends and family behind, she was also leaving you. You being her fiancée.

When Mary first approached with the idea of moving to Paris, you were completely up for it.

You knew she was having a hard time at United and wanted her to have a new start, and anyway, who doesn’t love Paris.

Mary’s loved the idea too, purely because you’d be going with.

You spoke to your work and they mentioned about starting a new branch out in the city of love.

Since they were so keen on creating a new branch, Mary flew out to sign her papers and do a medical.

It wasn’t until a week before now when your manager rang to reveal some news.

They were creating a new branch, but it would take at least a year to complete it all.

You broke down crying when you found out.

You and Mary were going to have to live apart for atleast a year.

You could have easily quit your job, being able to live with Mary���s income but you didn’t want to.

You loved your job, and to be honest, you were an independent woman who didn’t want to rely on Mary’s money.

Mary understood, slowly coming to terms with the idea that you’d be apart for a year.

You both promised to try your best to contact one another, taking it in turns to fly out to see one another.

You knew it was going to work, it’s just it was going to be hard but you and mary were up for it.

which is why the night before mary was set to leave was a bittersweet moment.

You and Mary had cuddled the whole evening, not wanting to be apart from each other.

You’d gone out to dinner before taking a stroll through the park.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Mary mumbled, making your heart break.

“I’m gonna miss you too. I’m always just a call away though. If you need anything, call me. Even if you just want to hear my voice.” You tell her, laying your head on her chest.

“I know. Same for you, if you need anything.” Mary pressed her lips to your head, wrapping her arms round your body.

“I’ve booked flights to see you already. I booked them at work today.” You said

“What dates?”

“This weekend.”

“You’re really gonna miss me then if you’ve already booked flights.” Mary smirked, as you sent her a playful punch.

“Of course I’m gonna miss you.”

As if on cue, you yawned, your eyes squeezing shut.

“Go to sleep, love.”

“I love you so much, Mary.” You whispered, your body moving to practically lay on top of her, seeking the warmth she brought.

“I love you too, baby, so so much.”

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 51

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 48, part 49, part 50

“What if we let him stay with us,” Eddie says out of the blue, sitting on one of their new kitchen chairs.

Wayne stops unpacking glasses, turning to look at him. “What?”

“Steve, what if we let him stay with us. Just while he tries to find a place.” He fidgets with his hands, avoiding Wayne’s eye contact. “We’ve, uh, been talking, and he’s put off trying to find a place. Now that he knows the end date, he’s started looking but can’t afford any of places that are open right now.”

Wayne pushes the box back onto the counter, he can finish it later. He turns fully toward Eddie, leaning back on the counter and crossing his arms. “So, you want us to let him stay here.”

“Yeah, and it could be like paying him back, you know. For letting us stay with him. Return the favor, and everything.”

He sighs, wiping a hand down his face. “We don’t exactly have the space for that. Unless you’re planning on him sleeping on the couch.”

Eddie stutters, further ignoring Wayne’s gaze. Mouth opening with no sound coming out.

“Or is this the part where you finally tell me you two are seeing each other?”

Eddie freezes. “How did you know?”

Wayne shakes his head. “Cause I’m not an idiot. You two go from chewing each other’s head off to being super close and touchy. And I saw Steve try to sneak out of your room when I got back from a shift. He thought he played it off, but I knew.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Wanted to see how long it took you to tell me yourself. It’s been almost three weeks, and we all live together. You really thought I didn’t know?”

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t know. We were just feeling it out, didn’t want to tell anyone in case it blew up fast.”

“And now you want him to move in with us? Sleep in your room, in your bed. You really think that’s a good idea?”

“I thought you would be cooler about this. Steve’s a good guy, you know that.”

He does know that. But he knows a lot of things that leave him questioning. Even if it’s just from passing comments. Ammunition that could have been meaningless, but there was history behind it. History Wayne doesn’t know but can assume what it means.

Maybe he’s an ass for assuming. Maybe he’s just being overprotective. But when it comes to matters of the heart, people can be reckless. They can jump without looking just to get hurt in the end.

Steve might be a good guy for letting them stay in his house. He might be a good friend, a good role model for the kids. But a good boyfriend, for Wayne’s boy, he’ll never be good enough. No one will.

“I know. I’m just worried that letting him stay here would make a jump you’re not quite ready yet.”

Eddie nods, looking down at his hands. “It’s early, I know. And it’d be temporary. I just—I don’t want to leave him high and dry. He helped us when we had nowhere else to go, I thought we might be able to so the same.”

Wayne gets where his head’s at. He gets wanting to do something to thank Steve that would be anywhere near the way he’s helped them. Hell, Wayne does too. There are just so many reservations in his head. So many ways that this could go wrong.

“I’ll think about it,” Wayne concedes. “On a few conditions, it is actually temporary, and I’m the one who talks to him about it. You say nothing until I do, got it.”

“Got it.” Eddie smiles brighter than he has in a long time. “Thank you, it means a lot, even you just thinking about it.”

He sighs. “Yeah well, you have a point.”

“You’re not going to get, like, super weird and protective now that you know right?”

Wayne scoffs, going back to the box that needs unpacking. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Steve told me what happened while I was still in the coma. I know you didn’t like him around me. I know that has changed, but it’s different now. And don’t you remember back in my freshman year where I told you about that guy in my English class and you threatened to kill him if he looked at me wrong?”

He shrugs. “That’s just part of being a parent, can’t turn it off.”

That kid would have deserved what came to him if Wayne actually followed through. After the first few months of peace, he made Eddie’s life a living hell.

“Well, Steve’s a good guy, and he’s good to me, so just, tone it down a little bit.”

Wayne turns to look at Eddie again. He’s honestly surprised that this conversation is happening, but also glad that it is. Eddie’s hasn’t exactly seen that many people. Not in the town that threatens to crucify you for walking on the wrong side of the road. As far as Wayne was supposed to know, this was Eddie’s first time seeing someone. But he knew that on some of the weekends where Eddie would disappear for a night, it was to sneak into one of those bars down in Indy.

That was dangerous, this was less so. As far as Wayne knows, Steve’s romantic life is a mixed bag. Short term relationships and one long one that ended semi-badly. Sue him for being cautious. Sue him for looking out for his kid. After all the pain they went through in the past year, he could at least try to make sure heartbreak wasn’t added to the mix.

“You happy?” Wayne asks, watching as Eddie’s face softens.

“Yeah.”

“You being safe?”

“We haven’t gotten that far yet, but when we do, we will.”

Wayne nods. “Then I’ll tone it down a little. Just a little. Don’t go expecting miracles.”

The rest of the box gets unpacked, the glasses and other dishware slowly filling the cabinets. The home starting to really look like a home.

“Thank you,” Eddie says quietly.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Steve gets back from work late. Wayne wasn’t exactly waiting for him, but he wasn’t exactly not waiting for him. He was just in the kitchen, putting something together for a late dinner, knowing that Steve was going to be home soon. If it felt like a good time, he was going to bring it up. If it didn’t, he was going to give it a day.

But he can feel that protective burn bubbling up and can’t snuff it out. He needed to know.

“I know about you two,” Wayne says. More menacingly than he meant to, but doesn’t know how else to start this.

Steve freezes, hand on the fridge’s handle. Holding it open. “What?”

“You and Eddie, I know.”

He nods, closing the door and clearing his throat. “For how long?”

“Few weeks. You’re really not a slick as you think you are.”

Steve leans on the counter, crossing his arms. Ready for a lecture. “We were going to tell you, just wanted to make sure we weren’t making a mistake first.”

“Interesting word there, mistake.” Wayne’s pressing, trying to lure out what he needs to see. Make sure that this isn’t something he needs to worry about.

“I just didn’t want to lose another friend because of a relationship. It took me years to be able to be friends with Nancy. I didn’t want the same to happen with Eddie.”

Wayne nods. Satisfied with the answer.

“What you said a few weeks ago, that you saw the way I acted around him. And you wanted to stop the hurt before it started. I’m not planning on hurting him. I can’t promise I won’t mess up; I tend to do that a lot. But I always try to make up for it, to learn. I’ve gotten really good at apologizing.”

The protectiveness dies down, Steve hitting everything he wanted to hear. And Eddie’s right, Wayne knows that he’s a good guy. He’s made mistakes, but he’s grown. He’s changed. It’s as much as Wayne can ask for.

“You know, earlier today, Eddie brought up this idea of letting you stay with us until you find a place on your own.”

Steve’s face fills with shock. “He did?”

Wayne nods. “Yeah. As you can imagine, I had my hesitations. We don’t exactly have spare rooms like you do. But,” Wayne can’t believe he’s really saying this, but it feels right, “if you wanted, you could stay with us. With the promise that you find a place on your own, and that this won’t put an unnecessary strain on your new relationship.”

“I—” Steve tries to get out. “Thank you.”

Before Wayne can register what’s happening, Steve’s hugging him.

“Thank you,” he repeats. The words heavy with relief.

“Yeah, well. After all you did for me, it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

Steve lets go, taking a step back. “But you didn’t, a lot of people don’t. So, thank you.”

He realizes that there is so much story of Steve that he still doesn’t know. Hurt and pain that he keeps hidden away. Not for other people to see. Steve walks away before he can ask, or even question. Hesitating before walking down the hall to Eddie’s room.

This was going to be interesting.

apologies for the late post, I was at work and then driving home from break, and forgot to post before I left (like I planned to). And posting tag lists from mobile sucks ass.

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[pineappleciders]

i fear there is little way to describe my recent experience in the bathroom. or potentially, there are far too many ways to the point i cannot collect my thoughts. it started out as a simple pee. i went to the restroom quite happily, having been playing a game and believing it would be a quick, simple trip. but i was proven wrong, as i usually am. it turned out to be a poop as well. though it wasn't a bad one, it was rather small and easy to pass, and wasn't too bad of a wipe either. however, i was foolish and became distracted watching a video on my phone while wiping. this tragically led to me placing far too many pieces of toilet paper in the toilet bowl without flushing. i soon realized my mistake and, like a fool once more, decided to hope for the best and flush. however, it did not go down. it's fine, i thought. i'll wait and try again. so i did, and it did not go down. hm, this is unfortunate, i think. so i grab the plunger, blissfully unaware to the hellhole i had began falling into, believing this was just your average clog of the toilet. but it wasn't. i soon remembered a fool in my household, which i later learned was my mother, had made the conscious decision to swap the plungers in the bathrooms. this is a problem because, the one that was in my current restroom is a good plumber. the other one is not. and so, i found myself fruitlessly shmacking the hard, useless plunger into the bowl time and time again. but it was no good. i was so determined, so full of hope that it would work as i had made it work before. but this clog was different. i began to grow more desperate as my arm was quickly becoming exhausted from the strain, and i switched to 2 arms, yet there was still no luck. at this point, i had begun sweating, the reality dawning on me that this would not go the way i had hoped. i remembered a trick i learned, about putting soap and hot water into the back of the toilet seat, which helps break the clog up. so i looked around for a cup, an item usually kept in the bathroom, to scoop water from the sink to the toilet. but there was no cup. i put a few squirts of soap in the bowl and waited, but with each flush the water grew higher and higher, reflecting my nerves. but a spark of something like hope flickers in me as i spot the sink drain stick made for unclogging sinks. it's a bit gross, but i'm running out of options, so i go for it. i feel as though it's working quite well, as i can see toilet paper being ripped, but with flush and flush again, it only worsens. i have been in the restroom for far too long now, mostly waiting for water to slowly go down, and at this point i'm sure the energy drink i left on my desk has gone lukewarm. i start to full on panic now, honestly on the verge of tears. i am tired from lack of sleep, very hungry, my back is in extreme pain, and i feel disgusting as a few bits of toilet water have splashed on me. i consider asking for help from my dad, however the thought of walking downstairs with shit stuck in between my asscheeks is extremely unappealing, so i carry on. i turn on the tub and start scooping hot water into the back of the toilet. it burns my hands, and i am now getting water everywhere, but i cannot stop as i begin feeling like a wild animal. i try and try and try but all of my efforts are wasted. and i fear i knew all along what i had to do, i was simply pushing it away out of pure fear. but i suck it up and wrap a towel around my waist and leave the bathroom, still not having wiped fully, and lumber to the other bathroom to grab the good plunger. and lo and behold, with only a few pumps the water is quickly sucked down. and i would have felt immense joy, if it weren't for my extreme annoyance with myself that i did not do it sooner. i am extremely traumatized and i don't think i'll be able to look at my toilet the same way for at least a few months. my dear friends and followers, i urge you to invest in a good plunger. one for every bathroom you have. a new, soft, flaccid plunger. it will betray you less than any man.

[wrathofrats]

Seeing Blind (you’re too good to be all mine)

Chapter 5. Mature, 2.4k. Read under cut or on Ao3

(Part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

As always thank you to @divine-misfortune for writing this with me <3

Rain whipped around. Confused to see Dew running up to him from the side field, brushing debris off of his overalls. They had never spoken before, at least not directly like this. Small quips and comments when he finds himself at Swiss’ side that sound like they’re meant to be digs directed at him despite the fact Dew barely acknowledged his presence.

“I’m sorry?”

“I think we should have a talk“

It’s Rain’s turn to barely sleep in Swiss’ arms. His head swimming with a tirade of thought. Was he not good enough? Did he do something wrong? Go too fast? Maybe Swiss just didn’t want him in the same way he did?

He could feel how hard he was against his back for a good portion of the night. Rationally, most of that couldn’t possibly be true. Why would Swiss assume he wasn’t ready for it? None of it made sense and it left a strange, conflicted feeling in him. Not quite dejected but certainly confused.

At least he could finally sleep comfortably beside him, in a bed, like real people who like each other do.

When the sun threatens to crest the horizon, Swiss is shifting behind him. Moving carefully. Thoughtfully trying not to jostle Rain awake, no reason for him to have to adhere to the ungodly early schedule Swiss kept. It’s a hopeless effort but it was the thought that counted. Rain stirred as the arm beneath his head began to retreat, making a soft sound he could only describe as a chirp. His eyes fight to open, drooping despite himself, as Swiss slipped from the cozy little cocoon they’d made.

“Shh tadpole…Go back to sleep”

Cute. Rain looked beyond adorable and Swiss suddenly understood the meaning of ‘cuteness aggression’. The messy hair and blush coloring his cheeks the loveliest shade of pink was entirely unfair, but the way he managed to bat those pretty eyelashes was playing dirty.

“Just’a couple more minutes Swiss, ‘lease” Rain mumbled his way right into a yawn, tugging at Swiss’ shirt like he might just drag him back into bed like this.

“I’ve gotta go, I can’t be late. But come see me on my break, ‘kay?”

Swiss smoothed the hair from his forehead, dipping down to kiss the little crease between his brows before Rain’s head dropped back to the pillow with a small whine that he gives up on committing to when the comforters pulled back over him. Hard not to snuggle back in, harder not to bury his face in the other pillow to inhale the comfortable lingering scent like he might just pretend Swiss was still beside him.

Didn’t stop him from pouting though.

Leaving Rain was a real test of his will but dutifully Swiss dragged himself away. It was safer for him to duck out as early as this, less of a chance of being caught by the wrong person. He woefully stuffed his feet back into his muddy boots abandoned by the front door and trudged outside towards his truck.

He prayed it was too early for anyone else to be lurking about, and if it had to be anyone, let it be Mountain.

But God had a sense of humor, apparently.

Dew and cirrus were waiting for him with wolfish grins near the tractor, immediately trying to prod him for answers.

"Well well well, smooth talked your way right into his bed huh?" Dew laughed

"Didn't take him for easy.” Cirrus folds her arms looking over his sorry, disheveled state.

"So how was he? Did he even know what he was doing? Was it embarrassingly bad? That why you're doing the walk of shame before the suns even up?" Dew gasped at the promise of scandal, hanging off of Cirrus’ arm with a smirk like he was pleased with himself.

Swiss couldn’t tell if he wanted them to die or if he'd like a stampede of cattle to take him out then and there. Honestly, didn't know if they even deserved a response. Probably shouldn’t. All their senseless prodding, he shouldn’t dignify it but God Dew was too fucking annoying to ignore at times.

“We didn’t do anything” Swiss pushed past them to make the hike back to his truck so he could at least change. Boss might give him weird looks for showing up in yesterday's wrinkled clothes.

“Oh, sure. Totally. So, tell me, he invites you in and you spend the night doing what exactly? A kiss on the cheek before turning off the lights at nine on the dot so you can sleep on opposite sides of the bed with both hands above the covers?” Dew questions incredulously, with an oddly specific example. “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever fucking met, Swiss!”

Swiss winced at the volume of his voice, nervously eyeing the farmhouse standing silently as he gestured aggressively for him to shut the fuck up. Rain would be mortified if he knew the others were talking about him in this fashion.

“Love that Swiss thinks he can lie his way out of shit like this, as if you of all people don’t know what he looks like after a long night.” Cirrus snickers behind her hand and Dew suddenly looks appalled.

“Oh my fucking god it was one time!”

“It was a couple times actually-“

Like a thief in the night, Swiss uses their endless bickering as an excuse to slip away from their interrogation. He climbed into the backseat of his truck and rummaged under the passenger seat - working a job like this, he learned early on to keep a change of clothes on hand. It was awkward to say the least. He was not a dainty man and the back of his truck was far from spacious but he managed to climb out only having smashed his elbow into the window twice. Seemingly just in time. The crunch of gravel and the sharp squeaks of a poor suspension announced their arrival before the truck branded with an all too familiar logo rounded the bend.

His head snapped around alarmingly fast, met with mischievous grins from the both of them. He bristled. “Not a fucking word or I’m telling him to drug test you two.” Swiss hissed, both warning and threatening. Dew made a face, opening his mouth to retort but Cirrus was faster. Sticking out her tongue in his direction before grabbing him by the arm and leading him away to where they would pretend to work for the next two hours.

As they left him standing beside his truck, Swiss watched Rain’s father get out of the truck with clearly stiffened limbs. His throat felt tight as he looked his way, fearing that just maybe he knew but the man just regarded him with a curt nod and a gruff good morning, then headed inside.

Swiss wanted to close his head in the door of his truck, multiple times.

It was going to be a long fucking day.

Rain slipped out the back door an hour or so after lunch. Wearing exhaustion and semi untamed curls, a brand of disheveled he’d never sported before. He was off the schedule they’d taken to over the last few weeks. Swiss’ lunch break was a little before two, and it was currently well past. Swiss could sigh and huff all he liked about him sleeping in and shirking his fruit picking responsibilities, as well as what he’d woefully described as ‘kiss withdrawls’, but Rain truly couldn’t be faulted for sleeping in. His sheets smelled like warm tobacco and aftershave, a little bit like hay and whatever it was truly encompassed Swiss. It was hard for rain to leave in the morning, silently hoping it would linger until he got back that night.

“Rain! I’ve been looking for you!”

Rain whipped around. Confused to see Dew running up to him from the side field, brushing debris off of his overalls. They had never spoken before, at least not directly like this. Small quips and comments when he finds himself at Swiss’ side that sound like they’re meant to be digs directed at him despite the fact Dew barely acknowledged his presence.

“I’m sorry?”

“I think we should have a talk, can you come here for a minute?” Dew kicked some rocks and pursed his lips at rain who looked more than confused. He looked around for Swiss, to see if this was one of his shenanigans or could at least save him from whatever was happening.

Dew knew their routine. Knew exactly how to intersect Rain’s path before he could go attach himself to Swiss like an overgrown leech. It was almost too easy for him to find and stop him. If Rain had any more confidence in himself he would’ve told Dew to leave him alone, return the same disdain Dew had regarded him with from the start, but he was alarmingly forward. Grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him with surprising ease towards the tractor for a bit more privacy. Less of a chance they’d be interrupted.

Dew, and the other workers by extension were far from fond of him. Swiss was the outlier. Rain knew fighting him on this would cause nothing but trouble.

“Where are you going by the way? Thought you didn’t have to do your small share of work till later.” Whatever over sweetness he’d greeted him with dropped from his tone, borderline sneering at him instead.

“Dad asked me to check on one of the cows, said she looked in bad shape this morning.” Rain readjusted the bag on his shoulder, eyes flitting towards the field with a silent prayer that Swiss might just happen to pop up. Save him from whatever he’d walked into.

“Bullshit,” Dew barely stopped himself from laughing at his lie. “He would’ve mentioned it to us, not you.” Dew crossed his arms, leaning on the tractor. Casually and subtly blocking off Rain’s easy exit back to the yard.

“Ok…Then what do you think I’m doing?” Rain scoffed and rolled his eyes. This was dumb, they both had better things to be doing.

“Considering that brown paper sack in your hands, and the little birdie that talks about you in the barn, I’d say you’re bringing Swiss a snack for his break” it’s the slight flick of his eyes that answers the silent accusation.

“I don’t see how what I do with my time is any of your business” Rain's voice was almost entirely confident, almost. The faintest waver under his incredulous stare. It was hard to hold steady when someone as intense as Dew was interrogating him like he was caught about to do something downright sinister.

“Well I just think it’s funny how much time you spend with him. All of your breaks, sneaking out to go to the bonfire, spending the night?” He practically hissed his last point. “Thought your dad didn’t like you spending too much time with people like us. Weird, huh?”

“I’m not like that, I’m not my father.” Rain felt almost guilty as dew continued to stare at him like he was disgusted. Had he really been that bad? He didn’t think he was that much of a priss before Swiss came around.

“Oh you aren’t? Rain, all you do is sit on your throne and occasionally feed the animals or pick fruit for daddy’s approval. I’ve heard what he’s said, what you’ve said.”

His face, with whatever increasingly anxious expression he’d been sporting, fell instantly. Comments from his father over the years rooted in overworked frustration when profits didn’t balance out costs, when equipment turned up broken, when the work wasn't done to his standards. Blindly throwing blame on his workers. And Rain, a teenager vying for his parent’s approval, stupidly echoed the sentiment more than once and turned his nose up at them and the work they did. Even went out of his way to avoid the lot of them at the behest of his father.

“Dew, I’m sorry…I never-“

“All I’m saying is don’t fuck around and break Swiss’ heart just because you’ve decided to enjoy the attention from the peasants” Dew spat. His tone growing increasingly more frustrated as the months or years of indignation began to finally bubble to the surface.

“That’s not-“ A finger is held up before he can begin to explain himself, effectively shutting him up before he could stammer any further.

“Save it princess, I don’t want to hear it! I’m warning you to stop fucking around with him - Swiss doesn’t deserve to be some passing fancy till you’re able to go back to that prestigious university of yours.”

Rain opened his mouth and quickly closed it when he couldn’t manage any sound. Dread filled his stomach and began clawing its way up his throat. Choking him.

Is that really what they all thought of him? Is that what Swiss thought all of this was?

“You’re a smart guy, yeah? You should be smart enough to know not to cross this clear line in the sand that you and your dad drew a long time ago. Go back to your fucking tower and stay there.”

And as quickly as his tirade began, it ended with Dew turning on his heel and storming off with his fists clenched at his sides. He’d said more than enough for Rain to get the message; none of them wanted anything to do with him, Swiss just didn’t know it yet. They all harbored a level of resentment Rain hadn’t quite comprehended apparently.

Rain didn’t walk after him. Stays rooted in place watching Dew stalk off towards the fields until the vague shape of him becomes blurry. Tears burned in his eyes. All he could do was shrink into himself and return to the house where he promptly shoved the paper bag to the bottom of the trash can. At least there, he could pretend he’d never made it to begin with.

Was he stupid? He felt like an idiot for ever thinking he could really have something as genuine as this.

Heat radiated within his chest and made itself known in the form of blotchy redness in his cheeks. He retreated to his room, bag dropped steps in front of his door in order to throw himself onto his bed like a teenage girl with a broken heart. They weren’t anything and yet it felt like his rib cage was caving in. Guilt, shame, and humiliation danced inside him. Mingled into a single sensation that made his throat painfully tight.

Rain hiccuped over a half sob, shoving both pillows off the bed and onto the floor. He didn’t need the reminder. With both pillows out of the way, he was met with the cotton candy blue shark he’d stuffed into hiding the night before. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and pulled the plush against himself. Childish comforts.

Dew was right, telling him the things he was too selfish to acknowledge. None of them wanted him around, and maybe Swiss didn’t really either. Did Swiss only humor him because he was the boss’ son? Placate ‘the princess’ to keep his job. Dew was right. He didn’t deserve Swiss.

[etherealeowyn]

“When you look at me like that my love, I don’t think I could do anything other than give in to you" - Elrond (Rings of Power) x Fem Reader

Y/n reunites with Elrond and explains that she doesn't want to be left behind when he goes on his journeys anymore.

Fluff

Word Count: 817

My requests are always open, so feel free to message me if you have an idea! I'll write for any character from The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or The Rings of Power!

All the trees surrounding the city of Lindon had turned into a series of warm orange and yellow hues. Fortunate were one’s eyes when the autumnal sun danced upon their leaves, for it seemed as if they were sparkling, making the already ethereal location even more stunning.

Y/n’s long blue velvet dress swept across the floor as she walked on the perfectly lain cobblestone path, her footsteps echoing through the open halls. Her eyes flickered from tree to tree, feeling a sense of immense happiness knowing she was once again visiting the place she loved so dearly. Delicately, she held a letter from her love, comforted by the knowledge that she would soon be in his arms.

Her elven ears slightly perked when she heard footsteps growing closer from behind. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips when she recognized that the steps were familiar, belonging to none other than Elrond.

“My love,” Elrond spoke, his soft voice breaking the near-silent atmosphere of the hall.

Swiftly he spun her around by the waist until her body was delicately pressed up against his. Y/n stood there momentarily, staring into his eyes, taking in all his gorgeous features before saying, “It feels like a lifetime since I last laid eyes on you.”

Elrond laughed slightly before responding, “I agree, a few months feels more like a year when I’m away from you,” making her blush.

“Promise me, you’ll never leave me again. Life is so mundane without you, I practically died of boredom.” Y/n joked, causing the elf to smirk at her.

Tucking a strand of her long hair behind her ear, he said, “I’ll try my best, but you know good and well that I can’t promise something like that,” with a laugh. “Middle Earth always has something in store for me that I cannot prepare for.”

“I can’t argue with that,” she replied, “But maybe Middle Earth will be kind enough to let us make up for the time that we have lost with each other.”

“I can only hope,” Elrond spoke, taking one of his fingers and delicately placing it under Y/n’s chin, before angling her face up so their lips could meet.

“Or…,” she began, wrapping her arms around the elf’s neck, “Perhaps next time I could join you.”

A mix of surprise and concern appeared on his face, this being the first time that Y/n had ever asked to join him on one of his missions. At the same time, he couldn’t help but imagine how much more enjoyable it would be for him if the love of his life accompanied him.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind that, but you must know that most places I travel to are riddled with danger. I’m not sure if I’d be able to keep you safe,” he replied, worry prominent behind his voice.

“Darling, I have immense faith in your abilities to protect me, quite frankly, I feel safer in your arms than here,” she spoke, looking up at Elrond through her eyelashes.

Y/n had grown tired of the long days and even longer nights spent without him in various elven cities, for she never felt at home unless she was by Elrond’s side. She was willing to follow him anywhere if it meant she’d be by his side.

“When you look at me like that my love, I don’t think I could do anything other than give in to you,” he said turning away for a moment to hide the rosy blush creeping onto his face.

“I’m well aware,” she replied taking one of her hands and gently caressing the side of his face, “Does that mean that I could go with you next time?”

“Yes… but on one condition,” Elrond responded grabbing her hand from his face and placing a delicate kiss on it.

“I’d do anything,” Y/n whispered hastily, eagerly wanting to know the condition that he had thought out.

“Would you marry me?” he asked, his grey eyes softening and brimming with pure love.

Y/n’s jaw dropped slightly at his question, before she immediately jumped into Elrond’s arms, letting him spin her around in celebration. When he finally set her down, she gently grabbed both sides of his face and brought his lips to hers, planting a kiss full of pure excitement.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Elrond spoke, with a smile pulling at both corners of his mouth.

“It’s absolutely a yes, a thousand times yes!” she exclaimed before the elf pulled a beautiful silver ring from his pocket, adorned with the most stunning moonstone that Y/n had ever seen.

She extended her hand and watched Elrond slide it onto her index finger, immense joy running rampant through her body, making it feel like she was floating.

“I can’t wait for our next journey together,” Elrond softly stated, wrapping his arms around Y/n in a loving hug.

[me-amora]

The tragedy of Lady of Autumn's character

The Lady of Autumn is a very tragic character that holds her pain close to her heart for no one to see.

This woman truly has lost almost everything. She has lost her freedom. She is abused.

First she lost her family. She lost her sisters who must have been dear to her. Then she lost her freedom and autonomy by being sold into marriage to a cold older man. She lost her identity, she's only a broodmare and a beautiful prop to be paraded around.

It is said that High Fae have a harder time conceiving. So to have 6 children from Beron imagine the amount of times she probably has been forced into that position or forced not to use any contraceptive method. And out of many children, all coming out as boys seems extremely weird if you ask me. It makes one wonder if there could have been female heirs that were... killed? Sent away?

Then she experiences true love one time in her life. Can you even blame her? For once she has something that her heart beats passionately for. And she has the addictive adrenaline of knowing that what makes her feel alive could very well be the reason she dies.

She's forced to watch Eris, still so young, be molded into Beron's shape by a cruel hand. She's forced to see Eris be physically and mentally abused by his own father to become just who he desires him to be. Set to marry when he's barely grown up, to a poor girl who would meet a similar end that she did. And she can only watch, not having the power to challenge Beron. She needs to have more children as she sees what Beron is turning them into.

And then Lucien is born and her fear must have been indescribable in the moment, upon looking at his features... How could she even run? Run how and where, lying in a bed after giving birth? When her baby has just been taken away from her arms.

God forbid knowing what happened between her and Beron after he found out. What he did do her. Or what type of deal she sealed with him to keep Lucien alive. It seems to feed on her soul and wither her life force away. She also never experienced romantic love again.

She watches Lucien being an outcast in his own family. Fitting in but never quite at the same time. Somehow Beron's harshness managed to amplify towards Lucien, she couldn't even believe an individual could have such a deep well of hatred to share inside oneself. The others watched this too, and consequently marked their younger brother as different from the day he was born.

She watches her children face each other as opponents, and saddens when she remembers she wanted them to have what her and her sisters did. Any brief brotherly moments warm her chest.

Lucien falls in a forbidden love just like she once did. She's powerless when Beron decides to kill Jesminda, in what she knows will irreparably shatter Lucien forever. She sees her other children participating in this deep act of brutality and tells herself she is no one and that she has failed. She can still hear Lucien's pleas and desperate cries. An alive ghost, present but not being able to manipulate reality. Lucien runs away and the others go after him. In that moment she convinces herself she will never see him again. She asks the Mother because she's the only who could hear her cries. From one mother to the other. The son of her passionate love. At that moment she regrets all of it, as she believed she only brought him into the world to suffer because of her impulses. It isn't Lucien that she never sees again, it's her other two children. She cried the death of the children she thought she hated. But she couldn't hate any of her children, not really, not ever. She still loved them all and it was so sick and twisted. She mourned the loss of three children, even if one was still alive.

She hates Beron. That's when she understands and finally believes in the existence of an infinite well of hatred. Each day his presence, his touch, his smell, grows more repugnant.

She looks herself in the mirror and she believes she has failed everyone. Her sisters. Helion. Herself. Her children, mainly Eris. But above all, Lucien.

All of this and she doesn't even have a name :/

(Nameless is my price I guess)

[kozumesphone]

03 ✦ I think i’m addicted to the title ‘you and me’ ! ༄.°

𝒽wang hyunjin x f!reader

masterlist . . . ✰

𓆩♡𓆪 𝒶n : my favourite chapter by far 🤭 kind of a fluffy chapter! def the longest in the series till rn too (I hate writing long chapters, please save me 🙏); anyway. the time has finally come fr! here’s your the ultimate climax chapter <333

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌arnings + tags : mention of kissing , hand holding , talking about being a bottom/top , hands around neck , light neck biting (twice) , y/n trying to internally best-friend-zone hyunjin but it doesn’t work , oblivious idiots in love ;

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌c : 1.05k

DAY #03 . . .

days merged into one another because all I did was go to school and prep school, nothing more and nothing less.

I internally even sobbed, realising that I hadn’t read any of my books for the past six months.

we got our test scores back an hour ago, leaving the results of a bet looming over my head. a bet I made with hyunjin. a bet, whose loser had to kiss someone.

I bet that hyunjin would score higher than I would, and he bet the opposite. loser has to kiss anyone the winner picks.

except, we weren’t serious about the consequences because he had gotten out of a pretty serious relationship just a couple of months ago, and I was… well, I hadn’t had my first kiss yet.

instead of reminding each other of the bet, hyunjin and I were holding hands under the table—which we did quite often because he said my hands were cold and he was ‘warming them up’—when, one of the days preceding halloween, the topic of being a ‘bottom’ or a ‘top’ came up in the class.

“I think you’d be a… bottom,” hyunjin whispered to me.

“duh,” I rolled my eyes.

“why? you like when the other person does all the work for you, don’tcha?”

“well, yeah,” I said, shrugging.

the conversation quickly moved on to what our type was.

“she needs to be as mentally unwell as I am,” hyunjin said. “and have the same sense of humour, too. a little shorter than me, and smart. like, book-smart as hell. oh, hopefully someone who goes to the same prep school so we could see each other a lot, you know?”

I nodded, thinking of any of the girls in our class who fit the criteria, but failed. I even tried to go out of the way and mentally scrolled through a list of girls from other prep school classes, and still turnd up with nothing.

“y/n, what about you?” he nudged my arm.

“mmm, obviously mentally unhinged, because if not, it’d be boring if they didn’t match my freak, right? also, they better be ready to hear out all the freaky fantasies i’ve collected after being a book girl for so many years. the list is unbelievably long,” I said, half-laughing. “I don’t really mind if they’re younger or older than I am, but I would never date anyone shorter than me.”

he laughed and nodded his head at me, his eyes crinkling. I was honoured to be one of the few people who saw this version of his smile—the kind that reaches his eyes.

classes ended earlier than usual—at 7:50, instead of 8:00 p.m., which is still relaxing—so we spent more time in the park near my house together, before hyunjin could leave.

“come on, i’ll walk you home. it’s getting a bit late,” he said, jumping up from his swing, and extending his hand.

I took it without a second thought, and we talked about everything that happened in our classes at school as we kept walking.

“oh my god,” I groaned, looking at the ‘out of service! sorry for the inconvenience!’ sign taped to the elevator. ugh.

“let’s go,” he said, happy to convert me to his staircase-is-better-than-elevators agenda, pulling me up the stairs immediately.

trailing behind him, I asked, suddenly curious, “what led you to conclude the fact that i’d be a bottom?”

when we reached the third floor, he waited a beat before pulling me towards the wall. he pushed me against it gently, and slowly wrapped his fingers around my throat, towering over me and staring down into my eyes. I looked away to the side in embarrassment, as my cheeks flushed.

a second later, he let go. “the fact that you liked that, i’m pretty sure, is proof enough, don’tcha think?”

I mumbled a ‘whatever’, and we kept walking up the stairs. from the corner of my eyes, I could see his mouth still moving, continuing conversation, but my mind kept straying to his lips. and his nose. and his eyes. oh my god, he was beautiful.

“remember our deal about letting me bite you?” he asked suddenly. I nodded. I always bit his finger to annoy him (as I did to my other friends, as well) and he bit back a remark of ‘you’re just begging for me to bite you too, huh?’ to which I cockily remember replying, ‘try it’.

I pulled up the sleeve of my jacket and pushed my hand towards him, assuming he’d bite my hand like I did to him, and get it over with.

instead, he pulled me by my outstretched hand towards the wall again. his hands rested around my neck and tilted my face to my side. he gently nipped at my neck, and I laughed softly.

“tickles,” I mumbled.

best friends, I reminded myself.

he let go, and we walked up another floor to reach mine.

before I could wave to him, he asked, “want another on the other side?”

I quietly took small steps towards him, and his warm fingers found their home on my cheek, tilting my face away slowly. he bit down on my other side for a lot longer than the first time.

I held in a whimper, this time.

best friends.

I was pressed in between the wall and his body. I plopped my head down onto his chest, trying to calm down my racing heart.

best friends, right?

we were both smiling a little and his hand rested against my heart.

“got that heart beating so fast, all for me?” he smirked. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes.

best friends, I had to keep reminding myself.

I mumbled a ‘good night, hyune,’ to him and walked out of the stairwell. he let me go, knowing my parents would get mad at me if I got home even a minute later than I was supposed to.

he smiled, wishing me a good night and walking down the stairs again.

the cheeky little bastard.

I continued cursing him out in my mind, as I unlaced my shoes and stepped into my house. still scolding him internally for nothing, I tried to calm down my racing heart and shaking legs.

best friends aren’t supposed to have this kind of effect on each other… right?

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kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[samsalami66]

Cinnamon Warmth

I simply HAD to write a little continuation of @unpredictable-probabilities' wonderful fic Where It Goes, so definitely read her fic before you read this one or else this will make little sense!

Read either here or on AO3!

To be completely honest, Morpheus was a bit nervous now that he was standing in front of the Gadling family home, his one hand resting in the crook of Hob’s elbow. Agreeing to Christmas brunch with Hob's parents had been easy as they had laid in the bed of the hotel, relishing each other's presence and warmth in their own little bubble, away from the rest of the world. But standing in front of the other man’s childhood home as his unexpected plus one for Christmas was a bit more spontaneous than his usual endeavours, and so the nervousness perhaps should have been expected. 

Hob on the other hand seemed totally unbothered that he would be introducing a man he met the day before to his parents, even with what had happened to him last Christmas. Morpheus strived for such a level of self-assuredness and optimism. If he were lucky his family would only disown him for such a decision. Or behead him, if he were less lucky. 

“Promise they don't bite,” Hob murmured to his right, and Morpheus snorted in response. 

“I wouldn't be too sure of that. Their son certainly didn't seem disinclined if prompted, and he must have learned it from someone.” 

“That would be Marleen's influence right there, I tend to keep my teeth to myself.” A male voice suddenly answered from the doorway, amused to no end. Morpheus whipped around with a deep blush rising on his face to the man now standing in the doorway to Hob's home. Leave it to him to make a bloody fool of himself first thing. 

Mr. Gadling was a very soft man, with smile lines around his mouth and crows’ feet around his eyes, which sparkled with the same sort of mischief Morpheus had already witnessed on Hob's face. There was also the same sort of resolve to make him feel safe and welcomed, and Morpheus deflated a bit at that slowly familiar look on his face. 

“Apologies, Mr. Gadling,” he said quickly and held out a hand to Hob's father, determined to overcome his social faux-pas as quickly as possible. “I'm Morpheus, Hob's… friend. At least for now.” 

The man barked a laugh at that and ignored his hand in favour of giving Morpheus a full-bodied hug. “I do like a man that knows what he wants! Call me Frank. No need to be all formal with family, eh?” 

Morpheus was released with a clap to his back and the most stunned expression he had ever worn in his life. He was given a moment to collect himself as Mr. Gadling moved to hug his son with the same enthusiasm he had bestowed upon Morpheus. The comparison made something ache in his chest, but in the best way he could imagine. 

“Now come in, boys, it's freezing! Marleen will want to meet the new face, so prepare for all the usual motherly fussing.” Mr. Gadling winked at him then, and Morpheus had exactly zero seconds to prepare before he was being pulled into the next pair of arms at the same time as Hob. 

“Oh, Robert, you didn't say you would be bringing such a gorgeous young man along!” The woman now embracing them both had a smile that rivalled the sun and brown eyes the same shade as Hob's. She smelled faintly of garlic and bacon and herbs, which caused Morpheus' stomach to growl with interest. The croissant perhaps hadn't quite been enough to fully ease his hunger this morning. “And he's hungry too! Well thank goodness I just finished preparations for brunch.” 

Mrs. Gadling shooed them into the dining room before Morpheus even had the chance to introduce himself and then headed off back towards the kitchen to continue her preparations. All that Morpheus could now do was blink, but somehow it didn't help with his orientation. Beside him Hob chuckled, then slowly led them to the table so they could sit down. 

“Perhaps I should have mentioned that they're very handsy.” 

Honestly, Morpheus wasn't sure if that would have helped. Nothing could have prepared him for this welcome. 

“It's alright…” Morpheus frowned as he realised that it really was alright. Usually he hated physical contact. But somehow, this wasn't too bad. Some part of him was even hoping to experience it again. The Gadlings were… warm. Their touch felt soothing instead of irritating. Perhaps it was a quality the whole family shared. “They're nice.” 

“They try their best,” Hob agreed and Morpheus nodded in response. 

Pans and pots clattered in the kitchen and some colourful but delighted curses accompanied most sounds. Morpheus was itching with the need to make himself useful. 

“Shouldn't we help your mother with preparations?”

“Not if we want to keep our heads, no. She takes great pride in preparing Christmas brunch by herself, we get to do the washing up later, if we're lucky.” Hob’s voice was fond as he talked about his mother, about this joke that must be reoccurring every year. 

“Marleen is a very independent woman,” Mr. Gadling agreed with a smile from the doorway, and Morpheus got the feeling that popping in on conversations like this was simply his thing. 

“She certainly seems like one, Sir.” Morpheus cringed a bit at his politeness, but no offer of first names could erase a lifetime of addressing even one's own father as ‘sir’. 

“Polite boy you are, hm?” He chuckled and sat down opposite them, then rested his chin on one of his hands to look at them. “How did you guys meet?” 

Morpheus opened his mouth to answer, when Mrs. Gadling suddenly flicked her husband against the temple with a disapproving click of her tongue. 

“At least wait until we're eating before you grill them. Here, be quiet.” She instructed and shoved a steaming pastry into Mr. Gadling's mouth, who only shrugged and munched away happily on the very fluffy looking cinnamon roll. 

Mrs. Gadling then places the rest of the tray and several other types of pastries on the table, quickly followed by a spread of hearty cheeses and meats and bread, as well as a pot of tea. It was simple, but the heat radiating off the pastries and breads spoke of a very early morning spent in the kitchen and hours upon hours of preparation work. Morpheus felt slightly unworthy of being on the receiving end of such a meal, made with care and love and at the sacrifice of time and energy. 

His own parents did not cook or bake or put any effort of their own whatsoever into Christmas dinners. They hired private chefs that made incredible eight course meals which only tasted of the craft but never of love. 

When Morpheus bit into a warm cinnamon roll dripping with sugary goodness and topped with an ungodly amount of frosting he tasted nothing but the love Mrs. Gadling held for her family. And possibly enough sugar to give him cavities overnight. He dove in again immediately after the first bite. 

Mrs. Gadling looked pleased at his enthusiasm as she cut off a piece of fresh bread for herself and buttered it generously. 

“So, now, how did you meet your lovely new friend, Robert?”

Hob chuckled at the curiosity in her voice and quickly swallowed his mouthful of cream cheese puff pastry. 

“Fell asleep on him on the train yesterday.” Two pairs of eyebrows were raised at that and Morpheus felt a blush dust his cheeks again. “And Morpheus very gallantly saved me from face-planting when the train suddenly broke down.”

Mr. Gadling made a face that said Yep, sounds like my son and Morpheus wasn't sure what it said about Hob that such a situation apparently was very like him. 

“And you just decided to tag along for Christmas brunch, darling?”

It took Morpheus an embarrassingly long time to realise she was addressing him with ‘darling’. Considering she didn't ask his name, he probably shouldn't be so surprised. 

“Er, yeah. Yes, sorry. I didn't have any other plans for the day and as Hob offered… I hoped his family would be as lovely to spend time with as he himself is. And I haven't been disappointed.” 

“Oh what a charmer!” Mrs. Gadling laughed in delight and nodded her approval. “I'm glad we didn't scare you away yet, sweetheart. But I gather if you survived a full day with Robert, you'll survive a meal with us.” 

“It is no hardship,” answered Morpheus quickly, then turned slightly more red than he had already been. “Neither spending time with Hob nor with you. I feel very welcomed, although you barely know me.” 

Both Mr. and Mrs. Gadling smiled indulgently at his words and Hob, too, seemed touched by them. 

“You're going to be good for our boy.” Mr. Gadling stated then and Mrs. Gadling hummed her agreement. “So, what do you do, son? Music or art?” 

[lostmyshadesanon]

HCs About the L.A.D.S "Packages"

My head canons about what's going on beyond the border of their belts, and there will be spoilers for the main storyline and their myth story lines so be warned.

Xavier

• Decent sized just slightly above in length and thickness.

• Show-er in that his race doesn't grow or shrink at all they are just always at full mass even when fully spent.

• If you've ever seen Zhongli from Genshin Impact's Archon form where he has the gradient from dark to light skin on his arms. Same concept but on Xavier's penis going from his lighter skin to a dusky matte black-blue with flecks of white that glow like stardust. He has a knot at the base with a horse like circular head.

• He has to knot to be able to release seed, though he's still able to experience orgasm without, it's just dry, or expelling a lightly glowing lubricant like substance. The seed also carries some bioluminescence, and he expells all built up seed in one session before having to rest to produce more. Though as stated prior he retains the same size throughout so can keep going if he wishes to while waiting to be able to knot again, and can dry orgasm in the meantime. Due to it being all at once it is quite alot, enough to give anyone a bit of bloat due to being filled.

Zayne

* Grower in that when you saw it for the first time you were a little disappointed, but you could work with it, and then it got bigger.

• The only normal looking human one. A couple noticeable veins to work with for some pop.

* The perfect size, doesn't matter what the size is that's perfect for you whatever it is he is somehow that size. He's linked to your soul, and I feel like "she" would somehow make it happen. Just so that if you and he attempted the act it would be so amazing that everyone else wouldn't compare and you'd miss it for the rest of your lives.

* Average amount of seed for an adult healthy male, but due to his busy work life he does get a bit backed up sometimes. So occasionally you'll get a bit more than you were expecting depending on how long it's been between sessions.

Sylus

* You were expecting him to be big considering how many times he's pulled you into his lap, and how he fills out his pants, and he is, but it's also because he has two.

* Always at half mass, but still a grower. The man is girthy to the point it's a bit snug to wedge it inside. They are stacked on top of each other and of similar lengths. The top one being girthier then the lower one with bulging veins. The lower is more comparable to an average man in girth, but with a curve pointed towards the top length.

* In his human form outside of there being two they look like normal penises. While in his "other" form the upper sides gain ridges and the lowers sides bulge slightly outwards making them girthier, and in his "other" form they are retractable into a pouch like space near his crotch area.

* He has breeder balls and comes copious amounts and seems to need very little rest time between orgasms to produce more. Though it gives the illusion of an average amount as it's split between two penises. In his "other form" the lower one loses the ability to express seed as it becomes a locking mechanism and the base will swell a bit more to keep the top penis wedged inside, but that means that all the seed is concentrated in one area, along with an increased stamina, will result in long and messy sessions.

Rafayel

*In his human form he's the smallest of the bunch. Still decently sized but slightly skinner than average, makes up for it in being longer than average. The biggest grower in that it almost disappears when not erect, and the only curious thing is that if you stare at it long enough you'll swear you can see an almost off blue-purple tint. He needs the longest rest times between sessions, and produces the least amount of seed while in human form.

*In his Lemurian form he has a cloaca. He has both sets of gentalia, and they are both bioluminescent. His dick-like structure can extend out of the cloaca, and is more similar to a tentacle, and is very flexible. It is covered in an oil-like shimmery, luminescent, sticky slime-like lubricant. At the base of the tentacle are multiple smaller tendrils that will grasp and hold any copulation partner, and can extend from the base quite far to wrap around any appendages to hold them in place. He can control them to a point though some movement is pure instinct. Depending on the gender of his partner his anatomy allows for eggs to be deposited into his womb, or be deposited through his hollow tentacle into his partner. He still only produces minimal amounts of seed as the tentacle is quite long but flexible, as to not be uncomfortable, and meant to be right up against the entrance of any womb.

*In his Sea God form his genitals are a cross between his Lemurian and human form. As it appears more human in structure, though retains the flexible size, lubricant, glow and color of a Lemurian.

That's all hope that was at least legible.

[blvdymary]

Lying Is A Sin

pairing: Thomas Shelby x (OC!) Anastasia Ivanova

Summary: Can a man really avoid who he truly is for the sake of love?

Genre: Infidelity & drabble.

Word count: 650

Note: GUESS WHO'S BACK FROM DEAD!!!!!! also sorry yall i wanted to write something about my oc for once LOLL I MISSED YOU ALL SM!!!!! also had a little name change teehee

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Thomas Shelby, a man known for having many affairs with women in the past, was now a married man. This was shocking news to everyone who lived in Birmingham. Although it seemed like he loved his wife, Elizabeth—or, as we all know her, Lizzie—a man can’t change in one night, can he? Not even Rome was built in a day, so what was the reason he had decided to change now? Well… he had a dirty secret, like everyone does.

It was 9:45 p.m. on a warm summer night at an extravagant ballroom overlooking the sea. An event hosted by the aristocrats of England was in full swing. Although Tommy wasn’t an aristocrat himself, he was invited by the host because of his reputation around the country. There he was, his wife linking arms with him, enduring a dull conversation with wealthy men from other countries. Even though he wasn’t enjoying the discussion, he was certainly enjoying the view of the duchess sitting beside one of the men.

He had caught her looking at everyone at the table. Her eyes, like the darkest pits of his twisted mind, were utterly fascinating. Needless to say, one glance from her, and anyone would be lured in as if she were a siren.

Lizzie noticed the way Thomas was looking at the duchess from across the table. She leaned in slightly, speaking in a hushed voice, as though the duchess’s gaze could somehow hear her.

“Who is that woman? She’s got those bastards wrapped around her finger.”

Tommy chuckled internally, keeping his expression neutral except for a slight smirk. He spoke in the same low tone as Lizzie.

“Well, that, my darling, is Anastasia Ivanova. I don’t know much about her other than the fact that she’s evil in her own way,” he said, his gaze fixed on the duchess’s lips.

By 11:36 p.m., the so-called “party” had reached its peak. Thomas could see drunk aristocrats dancing, laughing, or simply getting more drunk by the second. Now, he wasn’t going to pretend he was innocent—he was also quite drunk. But he could hold his liquor better than these people, that’s for sure.

As he strolled across the ballroom with a glass of whiskey in hand, he felt a strange sensation, like he was being watched. Shivers ran down his spine as he looked around for the source of his unease. He spun in place, scanning the room, until he noticed her. The grand duchess herself was staring him down with an intense gaze.

He’d be lying if he said she wasn’t attractive. The drunken state he was in only made her seem more… appealing. Before he knew it, he was walking toward her with intentions to… chat.

As he stood in front of her, he couldn’t help but notice her thin, tall frame. With each passing moment, his desire grew stronger. He smirked, staring at her as he spoke in slurred words.

“So… Miss Ivanova… why don’t we get to know each other, hmm?”

“How about we get to know each other in a more secluded area?” she replied. Her voice, like a symphony to his ears, filled his mind with wicked thoughts. Her words, though restrained, were enough to tease him to his breaking point.

He took her hand, glancing around to ensure Lizzie was nowhere nearby. He spotted her laughing like a madwoman with other aristocratic women, clearly drunk. Perfect.

Turning back to Anastasia, he looked at her with pleading eyes, as if silently saying, “Come with me, please.” She gave him a silent nod of approval with her charming smile. Without hesitation, he led her to one of the many rooms in the palace, proving, in fact, that he wasn’t a changed man—just a better liar.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

taglist: @hiraethberry @1-fuzzy-squirrels @justcallme1anangel @tejasvkris @rosierosem @meowsicles39

[gravekeeper-anna]

Daily Writing Challenge 2024

November, Day 5 Words: Captive/Skill

@daily-writing-challenge

{ Taking place after Day 2: Deceit/Eternal (Safrona) }

It was a full wonder why the Gravekeeper allowed the demon a place to manifest in the depths of her mausoleum. Why she had let herself be taught the unnervingly familiar patterns of the basic summoning rune, why she had let the demonic heathen speak a word. The demonic teachings Lady Handhour had learned in life had been scraped away from her mind, perhaps torn away even on a spiritual level, and she craved no real return. A desperate woman in her grief had allowed herself to be pulled into the machinations of a cult in those years, allowed herself to be made captive and indoctrinated, and the less she remembered of those wretchedly wrong mistakes made, the better.

In truth, the Gravekeeper harbored a sharp dislike now for the Fel and the demonic by association. It was a force that was messy, mutated chaos bent on disorder, destruction. Even necromancy and death had structure, she thought, had its layered uses. It was a wonder that she did not allow her phantom friends to overwhelm the demon in the already waiting memorial that was the Gravekeeper’s home.

It was a wonder that she did not seek to separate demonic skin from bone, slowly, curious to how it might scream and how long it’s flesh could last until expiration. She did like the decorative potential of a perfectly preserved horned skull, and demon skin and bone might have fetched a good trade in the Apothecary market as an afterthought. In some aching chamber of her betrayed core, she wanted to strip the flesh from other things the demon whore was connected to. Crush her skull to dust, cast the name she had taken to nothingness.

Elernia appeared, a devil’s grin cut across her face. As if she knew from the moment she chose to appear, what the Gravekeeper wanted. The Keeper, saw red. Phantasmal hands struck the succubus in a sudden, vicious slap that echoed a dozen times through each supernatural limb, knocking the feminine figure to the stone floor with a satisfying collision. “I have a thought…” the banshee whispered insidiously, each of her phantasmal hands gripping the writhing demonic body in sections, and with brutal force, began to pull. “Maybe I don’t quite need you. Maybe, I only need your parts.” 

And then, a perfectly shaven skull parted the succubus fingers as she choked, rasped and cried out in pain. Perfectly preserved, the humanoid skull gleamed white on the sallow floor of her mausoleum. Immediately, the Keeper’s phantasmic hands released the demon, and slipped over the skull, bringing it into her ghostly fingers with unconventional gentleness. 

“I…I brought you what you wished, dearest,” the demon rasped out, regaining control of her breaths. She now held one of her overextended arms in the other, but the same devilish grin returned to her lips. “An offering, my Anna. Say hello to one very pathetic Mr. Delacroix, former Acolyte. I rid him of the less needed parts. He buried himself very nicely in Stormwind nobility, feeding off of their needs. And now you can bury him where you like. And I left a little something on the scene that’ll make the city wary about Summoners all over again. Nothing too pointed to our little mistake, but you know. Baby steps.”

“You are unbound, and she suspects nothing?” the Gravekeeper asked skeptically, tracing her pale fingers inside the natural sculpt of the skull’s eyeholes. The skull had been stripped of all skin cleanly, perhaps through acidic values, then lightly glazed to prevent any surface damage. It was a skilled, thoughtful preservation, something akin to what she might have performed to scoured relics when she was alive.

“Oh, I doubt it. I’ve always been good at being convincing. I've given her a little something to distract her. Besides, the little witch is shaken, I’d say even a little more unstable than usual.” The succubus hummed conspiratorially. “It’d be a perfect time to push her just a little more off the edge. Make everyone else in her circles distrust her. Isolation’s always fun.”

“Bring me more offerings,” the Gravekeeper insisted, the sudden flicker of her rage abated as quickly as the wind, now admiring her new skull. “...and tell me a bit about what the little Anomaly has learned to love. Maybe she’ll find she can’t protect them from the grave.”

[brummiereader]

@mischievouslittlecreature Asher 🥰. He's such a good boy!

That four legged fur baby was such a joy to read about when he took note of his mum as she internally battered herself 😩.

Lucy watched Tommy where he was perched on the arm of a couch and talking to Lizzie, feeling her heart squeeze painfully, quickly looking away. Urghh I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! It was ok in canon because there was no one else. But in this story, which honestly feels more realistic than the canon series 😍, I couldn't stand the image of this. It's just heartbreaking. I get increasingly pissed of at Tommy when he even talks to Lizzie lol. I know it's just a messy situation, and not really his fault, but it hurts me to see Lucy this way. I'm waiting for the day he experiences the same feelings of insecurities, jealousy and heartbreak as she does right now, Lilly! You gotta give us a jealous, moody Tommy to compensate for the the torment you're putting our dear Lucy through 😂.

She sat up a little when the room quieted so that Tommy and Arthur could each make toasts. At Tommy’s comment of being in a happier place, paired with a quick glance towards Lizzie, she swallowed painfully. Oof no, fuck that 😩! Arthur should never make speeches, look what happens when he does 😭.

I'm glad Lizzie is making an effort, and I thought it quite sweet how she approached them with a deck of cards to play a game. But her attitude always has me on edge as much as it has Lucy on edge. I feel like she could completely change her tune at any minute and start making her passive aggressive remarks again. Hmmm, I hope they both stay on their toes with her, and I REALLY hope, Tommy doesn't begin to underestimate her pettiness.

No, treacle, I didn’t know they took ya. If I did, I…” his eyes moved to the bandages that poked out from under the hem of her shirt. “That wouldn’t have happened. Ahhh I love how he talks to her 😩❤️. Which only makes this scene even more upsetting for Lucy. Although I don't know much about their relationship, it's clear that their genuine friends that care deeply about the other. But the famous line from the Godfather "it's not personal, it's just business" feels appropriate in this scene.

“We have to go back for the fucking dog.” Tommy heaved. - “We should take the dog,” Lucy spoke at the same time. They shared a look, then a small nod of agreement, and turned around to gather up Cyril’s lead and wrangle him with them towards the car. I love that you added this part, because this is exactly what I imagined happened. I would bet money on Tommy just coming to a stop with a huffy "fuck", knowing he's gotta go and get the dog 😂. Just one more animal to their growing zoo 🤭!

They’d both been drinking more. And his stash of opium for the pipe that they sometimes shared, usually enough to last nearly half the year, was already almost depleted. Most nights one or both of them woke up screaming. Ahh, loving the shared despair! And how they both were mutually going through the horrors, spiralling down together. It feels very intune to their whole relationship and their codependency. When one falls, the other rapidly falls after them. Even though it was a powerful scene to read, i think it was the fact that little Charlie saw his parents in this way that ultimately had them stop. They love that boy so much, enough to force themselves out of the pits.

The smut scene was so beautifully written. I'm honestly relieved they've been able to get back to that point where she feels comfortable enough to be intimate with him. They're both so passionate, so obsessed with the other that It would almost feel unnatural to not read about them in this way.

“Lucy, do you remember when you asked me if I’d ever thought about entering politics?” ahh shit, here we go 🤦🏼‍♀️😂. This line reminded of the scene with Freddie and Ada when she says about the moment his balls are empty it's back to politics 😅. Freddie and Tommy are more alike than they'll ever admit! But the problem with this line means...a tonne load more of problems are coming there way. One of the biggest, Tommy's marriage to Lizzie 😬.

Amazing chapter, hun! Can't wait to catch up on the latest one you posted as soon as possible 😍.

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: The vendetta may be over, but peace is still but a distant dream for both of them. 

Word Count: 5,769

Notes: Warnings for depictions of trauma, chronic pain, insecurity, smut, and references to torture and pregnancy.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 28: Scarlet Fog

She sat huddled in a corner, watching the celebrations occurring around her as distantly as if she was looking in through the window. She supposed, in a way, that she might as well have been. No one had really paid her any attention throughout the entire gathering.

They were all assembled in one of the big sitting rooms in Arrow House, drinking and chatting and laughing. Lucy watched Tommy where he was perched on the arm of a couch and talking to Lizzie, feeling her heart squeeze painfully, quickly looking away. 

She would have to get used to that: seeing them together. Side by side as their own little unit while she was pushed aside.  

At least Tommy finally seemed happy again.

How horrible did it make her, that she found herself half longing for the time when it had just been her, him, and Charlie?

Of course she did not want Tommy to be miserable. Of course she did not want him and his family to be estranged. Things were better this way, of course they were. She could take it; feeling like she was an outsider encroaching where she was not wanted. Like she was not as valued. Not loved. She’d done it before, prior to the schism between him and the rest of the Shelbys. She could do it again. 

At her feet, as if sensing her thoughts, Asher whined, raising his head. She gave him a tiny smile, reaching out to scratch him behind the ear. His tail thumped against the rug, looking up at her as if to say, I still love you, Mommy.

He’d been glued to her side since they came home, protective on account of her still healing injuries. She was grateful for his presence and companionship. Being alone had gotten a lot harder than it had been previously. 

She supposed she would have to get used to it just being her and the animals for stretches of time. Moments spent alone with Tommy would get even rarer after Lizzie’s baby arrived. Lucy couldn’t help but wonder if she would see much of him at all. 

She sat up a little when the room quieted so that Tommy and Arthur could each make toasts. At Tommy’s comment of being in a happier place, paired with a quick glance towards Lizzie, she swallowed painfully, trying hard not to read too much into the look, and failing miserably. 

Surely it had to be coming soon. The inevitable. When Tommy sat her down and gently told her to pack her things. That he could no longer be with her. Because he loved someone else. And that someone else had demanded he chose between them. And of course he was going to choose the one he was already having a baby with. Who was loved by his family. Who wasn’t broken beyond repair. Who he could actually have a chance at a happy future with. 

As if sensing her thoughts, Asher nudged at her knee with his nose, trying to draw her attention away from the ache in her heart. With stilted movements, she reached down to stroke his soft black fur. 

Next was Arthur’s toast. A dreaded look crossed Tommy’s face at his brother’s insistence that he take a holiday. The expression only deepened when Arthur raised his glass to peace. Lucy wondered if Tommy was thinking the exact same thing that she was: there would be no peace for them. Not now; not ever. Not with the things that lived eternally inside their heads. 

Once the toasts were done, everyone began slowly making their way towards the doors leading into the dining room. Lucy made no move to follow them, just shrinking tighter in on herself in her little corner whenever someone wandered past her. 

“Lucy?”

At the sound of Tommy’s voice, closer to her than she’d expected–she had figured he’d just head straight into the dining room with Lizzie–she looked up. Those blue eyes of his were fixed on her questioningly, shuffling a little closer to her while everyone else drew further away towards the other room. Tommy cocked his head. 

“Are you coming?”

Drawing in a shaky breath, she shook her head. Fingers still carding mindlessly through Asher’s fur, trying to focus on the soft pelt to keep herself grounded. “I’m not hungry.”

Tommy sank down into the vacant spot next to her on the couch. “Are you in pain?”

“No. I’m just tired.” Only half the truth. Her cuts and shoulders were starting to ache a little.

He frowned, one hand moving to rest on the cushions behind her back. “You’ve barely eaten since we got back, sweetheart.” When she didn’t say anything, he scooted closer to her. “You need to eat.”

“I’m fine.” Eager to change the topic, she swirled the remainder of whiskey in her glass before downing it, mind fishing for something else to talk about. “What did Lizzie have to say?”

“Nothing all that interesting. Just some things about a few renovations that she wants to make to her house.” She could feel Tommy’s worried eyes still fixed intently on her. 

“This’ll be the first holiday you’ve taken in awhile. What do you think you’ll do?”

“I don’t know.”

Her gaze drew back to Lizzie where she was standing by the doorway, smiling and chatting animatedly with Polly. She’d been nicer to her since the kidnapping, but Lucy couldn’t help but feel a constant level of tension when around her, waiting at any moment for her to have said or done the wrong thing that would cause Lizzie to snap at her. “You should use it to spend time with her. Could even move into her house for a little while.” She looked down at her empty glass, in desperate need of a refill. “Be there for all the big moments in the pregnancy and everything.”

“And leave you here all alone?” Tommy asked. The worry she’d sensed in his gaze had leaked into his voice.

“I’d survive.” A lie, she was pretty sure, but he didn’t need to be burdened with that. 

“You’re still healing.”

“I’m not an invalid.”

“I know, but…I don’t want to leave you by yourself. If I have to take a bloody holiday, I’d rather spend it with you.”

Sighing, she kept her gaze glued to the floor until Tommy’s hand forced her head up, his icy blue eyes boring into hers, trying to read her mind. 

“I am not leaving you alone.”

“But you should–”

“Fuck what I should do!” His throat flexed, eyes darting towards the doorway to make sure no one had heard him. Drawing in a deep breath to steady himself, he looked at her, jaw set in that stubborn way she knew meant she’d have better luck picking up an entire mountain than getting him to change his mind. “I’m not leaving your side. End of discussion.”

Shaky sigh leaving her lips, Lucy nodded defeatedly. The back of Tommy’s hand stroked over her cheek. The rest of the family had wandered out the doorway, leaving them alone. 

“Please come to dinner.”

“No one wants me there anyway–”

“I do.”

For some reason, that made her feel like she was about to cry, leaning closer to his side unconsciously. When his fingers ran delicately through her hair, she closed her eyes. “Promise me you aren’t just saying that because you feel sorry for me.”

His fingers tightened a fraction where they’d come to rest on her shoulder. “I promise.” He turned her face to look at him. “I swear it on my mother’s grave. I want you with me always. Eh? Every second of every day.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into him, letting the words soothe her and abate the raging insecurities inside her. Even if only for a moment. 

“Come on,” his lips moved against the top of her head as he kissed her forehead. “Please don’t make me face them all alone.” His chin shifted against her head, cheek laying against her hair. She huffed out a tired, breathless laugh against his chest. 

“Alright. Since you asked so nicely.” 

He took hold of both her hands with a small smile, helping her to her feet and entwining their fingers as they began to follow the route that the rest of the family had taken out of the sitting room and into the dining area. Asher padded along beside them, his ears twitching every once in a while as he remained watchful and protective in demeanor. 

Tommy helped her into her seat next to him at the table, his ankle hooking around hers, the toe of his shoe every once in a while rubbing up and down along her shin whenever she started to get anxious.

Once the meal was over and everyone retired into the drawing room, she wound up seated on a couch with Tommy’s arm around her, her head resting lazily on his shoulder, trying not to doze off despite how tired she was. Lizzie eventually approached them timidly with a deck of cards, shyly proposing that they all play, and soon enough they had a lively game going amongst themselves and several family members. 

For a little while, she thought that things might actually get better. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy quietly lamented the fact that she’d probably be picking little granules out of her socks on the drive back home as her boots sank into the sand. Overheard a seagull squawked, riding the cool wind that rushed over the beach. Waves roiled and crashed against the shore, lapping across the sand until they almost kissed the toe of her shoes. The sand where they were standing was damp, hardened over with moisture more so than the soft, dry mounds they’d had to traverse to approach the figure already standing on the otherwise abandoned beach when they arrived.

He was just looking out over the expanse of the waves, a huge bullmastiff seated next to him, his lead clutched in Alfie’s hand.

Lucy stared at her friend, confliction weighing heavily inside her. Despite everything, she still considered Alfie an important figure in her life. He’d helped to save her, a long, long time ago. And his position as an ally to the gang had brought with it significant advantages. But perhaps most importantly, she liked him. He was fun, and deep down she really did believe that he cared for her and Tommy. 

Just not enough to stop him from betraying them when the price was right. 

“Alfie, did you know that they took me?” she asked, voice hoarse. The salty wind whipped at strands of her hair, leaving them to dance around her face. Alfie, who until that moment had hardly turned his head to look at them, finally glanced over at her. 

“No, treacle, I didn’t know they took ya. If I did, I…” his eyes moved to the bandages that poked out from under the hem of her shirt. “That wouldn’t have happened.” He said, looking at her regretfully before turning back to stare at the rolling waves. Lucy swallowed painfully at the truth in his voice, a little of the weight lifting from her shoulders at knowing that her friend had, at the very least, not been involved in the horrors that had been enacted upon her. 

He and Tommy talked for a while more. Well, Alfie talked, Tommy mostly just listened, and then Tommy pulled out his gun from inside his coat. Lucy turned away, face contracting, unable to watch. 

The pieces fell into place at Alfie's revelation of his cancer diagnosis. So he’d wanted them to kill him, then. Or maybe he was just saying it so they wouldn’t feel so bad after it was done.   

She was still angled away from Alfie when he turned sharply on Tommy with his own gun, so she had no warning when a bullet suddenly skimmed across Tommy’s side. Tommy pulled the trigger of his own weapon on instinct, and a sizable chunk of Alfie’s face was blown off. Both men collapsed backwards onto the sand. 

“Tommy!” Lucy lurched towards him, ignoring the way that the sudden movement pulled on her stitches. Her knees hit the sand, trousers growing damp from the moisture as she knelt at Tommy’s side, hands hovering over his torso. He groaned softly, legs kicking in the sand, damp granules sticking to the side he’d fallen on. 

“I’m alright,” he mumbled, hand going to his side. Blood stained his palm when he drew it away. “I’m alright, it just grazed me.”

Lucy glanced over her shoulder at where Alfie laid on his back, unmoving. Cyril was whining softly in distress, nosing at Alfie’s face. 

“I think he’s dead,” she said softly, not wanting to go over and actually check. Tommy swiped a hand down his face, gripping her hand to let her help pull him from the ground. She eyed his side worriedly. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He drew his coat in tighter around himself, suddenly looking very small and fragile. “I’m fine,” but his voice was anything but, rough and rasping in his throat. He took one look at Alfie’s body and cringed away, arms squeezing tighter around himself. Lucy watched as his head bowed, sorrow etching onto his features. For a second she thought that he was going to cry. “Come on.” With a jerk of his head, he gestured for them to head back towards where they’d parked the car. 

Shuffling to follow him, she curled close to his side, the pair of them beginning to slow trek off of the beach. The lump in her throat kept building every time she looked back at the figure splayed out in the sand. A few sniffles left her, and she hastily wiped her nose on her sleeve.  

“He fired to force you to shoot him,” she noted quietly as they walked. With how close they’d been, there was no way that Alfie would have missed his shot like that if he’d actually wanted to cause Tommy legitimate harm. 

“Yes.”

She tightened her arms around his bicep, cheek squishing against the soft material of his coat as she sought refuge from the chilly air against him.  

They got about halfway down the beach before they both stopped at the same time. 

“We have to go back for the fucking dog.” Tommy heaved. 

“We should take the dog,” Lucy spoke at the same time. They shared a look, then a small nod of agreement, and turned around to gather up Cyril’s lead and wrangle him with them towards the car.  

∗ ∗ ∗

Three months passed. 

Lucy healed slowly, the scabs of her injuries scarring over into rough, pale bumps on her otherwise smooth skin.

Tommy knew that she was horribly self conscious of them. Really, he was pretty sure that she thought them far worse than they actually were. She was still beautiful to him, even if the sight of the criss-crossed marks all over her back triggered sorrow and guilt to wash over him at the reminder of the pain she’d gone through.  

Slowly, she was able to do more. The stitches were removed and the bandages came off. Her shoulders were still giving her trouble, but according to the doctor, that would always be the case. He tried his best to help her, giving her massages and bringing her ice packs on the days that the pain was particularly bad. Applying salves that Polly sent over to help relax and soothe the muscles. By all accounts, she was considered healed. At least physically. 

And yet she was worrying him. Hell, he was worrying him. 

Golf. Fishing. Both were things he’d heard that other men liked to do on holiday, but he only got to the sixth hole at the golf course before throwing his club across the green field, not out of frustration, but from sheer boredom. The entire game was so…useless. Lucy had raised her eyebrows at him from where she was leaning against the little green plaque that displayed the hole number. 

“You know you’re supposed to hit the ball with the club, right?” she’d asked. Tommy shook his head, yanking out a few notes to pass to the caddy carrying his clubs. 

“We’re going home,” he mumbled, draping his arm around her as they started the walk to the car. “This is ridiculous.”

Fishing hadn’t fared much better. They’d been sitting by the bank, Lucy leaning into his side, eyes staring numbly out at the pond. For a second, the world was quiet and peaceful. 

But the silence only made things worse. There was no sound to drown out the noises in his head. The horses and gunshots; the screams of men dying around him. 

An explosion suddenly boomed around them, and he dove to the ground, taking Lucy with him as he sent them both crashing half into the pond in an attempt to use the bank as a source of cover against enemy fire. One of his hands curled over his head while his body pressed hers to the ground, attempting to shield her from the perceived danger. It wasn’t until more sounds–gunshots, not explosions like he’d originally thought–and the barking of hounds, erupted nearby that he realized it was simply a hunting party passing by, and not the war returned with the intention of swallowing him whole. 

“Tommy?” Lucy asked, voice quiet. She had grabbed onto the front of his shirt in surprise, her eyes wide. 

“Shit.” He leaned off of her, water sloshing around his legs, damp grass and dirt clinging to his arms where he’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. “Sorry.” He couldn’t quite meet her gaze, embarrassment burning its way across his cheeks.

“It’s okay.” She made no move to pull away, despite now standing nearly up to her waist in water thanks to him. Her head cocked a little when he flinched at another echoing crack of gunfire from the hunters. But she didn’t say anything, just reached out to flatten her palm on his chest. “Sweetheart?”

He finally snapped his head around to look at her. Fear suddenly seized at him as he processed how he’d practically grabbed and thrown her into the pond with him. “Fuck, did I hurt you?”

“What? No,” she shook her head. “I mean…my socks are wet now, but other than that, I’m fine.”

He’d helped her up out of the water, and quickly gathered together the fishing gear so they could head home. The fish weren’t biting anyway, and he didn’t want her sitting around in wet socks and trousers and catching a cold.  

They arrived home to find dinner ready for them at the table after they’d changed into dry clothes. Not that either of them touched most of it.  

Lucy had gotten almost as bad as him about eating. Where she once almost always cleaned her plate, she now often left it three fourths of the way full before pushing it away. And that was on the days that he was able to convince her to eat at all. Her body weight had dive bombed. She was even smaller than usual; so skinny it scared him a little. 

He could feel Frances watching them worriedly from the doorway, hands clasped together, lips set in a firm frown that only deepened when they both rose from the table and went into the drawing room to finish off their evening with two large bottles of whiskey and gin shared between them. 

They’d both been drinking more. And his stash of opium for the pipe that they sometimes shared, usually enough to last nearly half the year, was already almost depleted. Most nights one or both of them woke up screaming. He’d lost count of how many times he’d cradled her in his arms, rocking her gently against his chest, stroking her hair until she finally calmed enough to fall back into a fitful slumber. 

She’d draw him into bed to make love, only to push him away a few moments later, sobbing and burying her face in her hands. The phone would ring, but they never answered it. Even during the middle of the day, they kept the curtains drawn, the lights dimmed. Everything was easier in the dark.

They drank, and cried, and held each other, and drank some more. The cycle repeating over and over. He knew that they were both spiraling downwards into a deep dark well. But he did not know how to pull them out of it. 

Ultimately, it was not really him who gave the push for something to be done about things. It was Charlie. 

He was sprawled out on the floor, so drunk he was almost going cross eyed. Glass, from the objects he’d knocked to the floor during his tumble, had sliced into his palms, blood running in thin rivers down his hands. Lucy was kneeling beside him, reaching out to try to get a look at where he’d cut himself. Despite her movements being as uncoordinated as his thanks to her equally drunken state. Her makeup was a smudged mess around her eyes, black smears trailing down her cheeks from when she’d been crying earlier. 

The door creaked open, and Charlie peeked his little head in, and their eyes met. A look, not of sorrow or confusion, but complete, all encompassing disappointment crossed his little boy’s features as he took in the image sprawled out before him. Tommy swore that there was a hint of contempt in there as well.

“Charlie,” he choked out, trying–and failing–to scramble to his feet. Lucy’s head snapped around to fix on the boy, who was quickly ushered out by one of the maids. The door closed between them with a sharp, final click. 

Tommy managed to finally heave himself to his feat, injured arms crossed around his middle. Shame, hot and violent, bowled into him, and he folded at the waist, face collapsing in on itself as tears rushed into his eyes and began to stream down his cheeks. 

Never, never had he wanted Charlie to see them like this. But now he had, and that was something that would never be able to be undone. 

“Tommy,” Lucy pulled him into her arms, letting him bury himself in her chest while he mentally collapsed almost entirely on himself. Her fingers petted at the nape of his neck and down his back, trying to soothe him as he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed against her. 

The next day, he called Polly.  

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy retreated to bed when Polly came over in the evening, mumbling something about being tired. Tommy didn’t try to stop her. She still felt so fragile, he was worried that if Polly took any of her usual swipes at her, it would cause her to only crumble further in on herself. So he’d just sent her off with a gentle kiss and a promise that he’d join her as soon as he could, watching to make sure that Asher followed her as she climbed the stairs.  

“Lizzie wants to see you,” Polly informed him not long after they sat down. Tommy’s stomach roiled with nausea, quickly looking away. 

“No.”

“Tom, she’s showing,” Polly tried again, but that just made the sick feeling in his stomach surge. The mental image of Lizzie’s belly protruding as his baby grew inside her elicited nothing in him but dread. The idea of having another child was completely overwhelming, and he was often struck with constant worry at how it would affect Lucy once the baby finally came and he would have no choice but to spend more time with Lizzie.  

He’d spent an awful lot of energy these past few months actively not thinking about Lizzie and the baby that would arrive in but a few short months' time. But Lucy…he had a feeling that Lucy spent far too much time thinking about them. She’d said some things, whispered mumbles while she was drunk, that made little sense to him. Things about how he should leave her. That she was bringing him nothing but unhappiness. How he could be happy with Lizzie if he just gave her a chance. He didn’t know if she was aware of the things she was saying, or if she even remembered uttering them after she’d sobered up. No matter how much he tried to soothe or contradict her statements, she always circled back to them. It was like an infection that was not actually getting cured, the symptoms only battered back for a little while by his reassurances before flaring up once again. He did not know how to entirely eradicate the insecurities brewing inside her.

“I don’t want to see Lizzie, Pol.” He looked down, ashamed at the words despite their truthfulness. He felt her looking him over, examining his reaction carefully. Ultimately realizing that now was not a good time to push the subject any further. 

“How’s Lucy?”

That got him to look up, brow lifting. “Since when do you care?”

Polly shifted awkwardly in her seat, it being her turn to look away. Tommy frowned, the almost apologetic look on Polly’s face uncharacteristic, especially when it came to anything involving Lucy. 

“Pol?”

 “Aberama says that I’ve been too hard on her,” Polly sighed. Tommy blinked, too stunned to speak for a moment. 

“You been talking with Aberama a lot lately?” he finally asked. Polly shrugged, squirming in place, clearly uncomfortable, looking for a way to dodge the question.

“How is she?” 

He wetted his lips, fingers twitching around his cigarette. “Not good.”

“Francis said that she isn’t eating.”

“I can count her ribs with my hands when I hold her.” He mumbled, glancing at the drawn curtains that hide the outside world from view. 

“After what Luca did to her, I can’t say that I’m surprised that she’s broken down. Took you right down along with her.”

He bristled. “It’s not her fault–”

“That’s not what I mean,” Polly shook her head. “What I mean is that, if she hadn’t fallen into the dark abyss, she would have been able to keep you from spiraling as well. Like she has before. You’re right. It’s not her fault. It was just shit timing, is all.”

“I don’t know how to pull her out of it, Pol.”

Polly fiddled with her fingers. “I think it’s time you both came back to work. Rattling around idly in here is clearly helping no one. Having something to focus your minds on will help.”

He nodded slowly, heaving out a breath. Polly stayed to talk for a little while longer, offering a few more sage words of advice before gathering up her things and leaving. After she was gone, Tommy spent a long stretch of time sitting and staring at nothing, the cogs in his head starting to slowly spin. 

Jamming his cigarette into the ashtray, he stood, making his way to the stairs and towards the bedroom that he shared with Lucy. 

She was already curled up under the covers, on her side with her hands pressed flat onto the pillow and her cheek resting atop them. Asher was laying in his dog bed in the corner, his big head on his paws, eyes watching them worriedly. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Tommy reached out a hand to rub across Lucy’s forearm. Her eyes opened slowly, head cocking against the pillows.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he moved his hand to stroke her face.

“How did it go?”

“Fine. She thinks we ought to go back to work.”

“Mm,” Lucy sat up slightly. “Probably not the worst idea.” 

“Mhm,” he moved his hand to play with her fingers, tracing the places where she’d picked a layer of skin away while nervously fidgeting. The nervous habit had thankfully mostly ceased since they’d gotten her a replacement set of rings for the ones Luca had taken from her. It was not until Tommy had first noticed the little scabs on her fingers that he realized the importance of her having something physical to busy her hands with. Otherwise she started picking at herself.

“You’re scaring me, love,” he said, doing his best to keep his tone gentle and non-accusatory. And yet still Lucy’s lower lip started to tremble, tears filling her eyes. 

“I know,” she whispered. “I know; I’m sorry. I…” her chest rose and fell deeply with her breaths. “I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault,” his fingers curled loosely around her wrist. “We’ve both fallen apart these past few months.” He looked at her regretfully. “I’ve done a shit job at taking care of you.”

Lucy frowned, sitting up fully, reaching out to cup the side of his face. “That’s not true. You’ve kept me alive.”

“I think that’s the very definition of the bare minimum, love.”

She shook her head. “With where my mind has been at sometimes, Tommy, it’s no small thing that you’ve managed.”

He let her words sink in, both hands raising to take her face between his palms. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She gave him a weak, not wholly convinced smile, and he kissed her insistently. 

“I mean it. I love you.” Forehead laying on hers, he breathed in the scent of rose perfume that lingered on her skin. “We’ll get through this.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, angling her head up to kiss him again. Tommy trailed his hands carefully down her body, skimming them along the curves of her breasts, lowering to loosely hold her waist.

They’d had sex since the doctor deemed her fully healed. But he still felt the need to handle her as gently as possible; too worried about accidentally hurting her. The first time, he’d spent over an hour worshiping her body, placing kisses to each and every one of her scars, taking his time to make it clear that he still found her as heart-stopping beautiful as he did the first day that he saw her.  

He took the same care now, delicately undoing the ties on her nightgown and sliding it off of her shoulders, lips pressing into her soft skin, following the raised lines of her scars. A groan left his throat when her fingertips sank into his hair, massaging his scalp when he dropped his head to take one of her nipples into his mouth.

That grip on his hair only tightened deliciously as he advanced lower, laying her down on the bed and spreading her legs so that he could lay between them, nosing at her cunt, breathing in her delectable scent before leaning forward to swipe his tongue across her clit. 

Her sounds were so pretty as he ate her out, the hand in his hair helping to steer him to where she needed him most. Watching her through his lashes, Tommy had to stifle a smirk at the way her head fell back against the pillows when he sank a finger into her, crooking it so he was rubbing right up against the spot that made her moans go up a pitch. 

When she came on his mouth, he grabbed greedily at her thighs, lips parting in an attempt to drink her all in, begging for everything she had to offer him. 

“Fuck, come here,” she half pleaded when he raised up on his arms above her, reaching out to drag him closer, slotting their mouths together with her release still clinging to his lips. Her hands pulled at his clothes, his own moving eagerly to help her to remove them, covering her body with his once he was bare. 

“Ready?” he asked, hand wrapping loosely around his engorged cock, giving himself a few pumps before lining up. 

“Yes. Yes,” she chanted, arms winding around his neck. He entered her slowly, watching her face carefully for any sign of discomfort while he pushed forward. The warm embrace of her cunt remained to be like nothing else he’d ever experienced before, her walls hugging around him, so tight and perfect there was to be no doubt that they’d been made for each other. 

The combined sounds of their pleasure echoed throughout the room as they started to move. Lucy’s head tipped forward, burying in his neck, her soft lips brushing against the sensitive skin. His eyes rolled in his head everytime she squeezed around him, and he slipped an arm under her to rest between her shoulder blades while he rocked into her steadily. He kept his thrusts at an even, gentle pace, taking care to go slow with her. She knew that she could stop him at any time if she needed, and no matter how lost he may have been in his own pleasure, he always took care to be mindful of her reactions to his movements, on alert for any indications of pain, discomfort, or fear. 

“Tommy–” her nails scratched at his shoulder, not enough to break the skin, but just enough to sting. His hissed at the contact, the idea of being marked by her sending a thrill through him that had his cock twitching inside her. 

“Just like that,” she whispered when his tip brushed against her g-spot. “Just like that; don’t stop.”

He grunted deeply, doing as instructed, feeling a surge in his balls as his own release drew nearer. Slotting a hand between them, he started to work on her clit again, rubbing it in small circles carefully timed with his deep thrusts. Her walls squeezed around him, even tighter than before, and he had to grit his teeth and focus hard to keep from coming prematurely.

With a cry and a tightening of her legs around his waist, Lucy came, a hand at the back of his head guiding him in for another kiss while she squeezed and gushed around his sensitive cock. Tommy moaned into her mouth, following her right over the cliff, stilling as he came deeply into her. His mouth continued to work, kissing her slowly and sensually as they rode out their climaxes and steadily started to come down.        

After, when they were laying together in the dark, Lucy in his arms with her head on his chest and her fingers tracing the lines of the tattoo of her name that he had emblazoned on his forearm, he began to tell her of the new plan that had started to take shape within his mind. 

“Lucy, do you remember when you asked me if I’d ever thought about entering politics?”

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[canongf-archive]

i'd like to hope so too eds.

[hollypies]

Redrawing/remaking my HLVRAI flowercrown au!! Benrey and Gordon are up first!! (If anyone's curious you can go looking for my old flowercrown au stuff, just be noted its was made four years ago LOL and all the old info is completely irrelevant) click for better quality, tumblr killed it 💀

Up next, Tommy and Gman Coolatta!

In the old version of the plot for this au, it had a lot to do with it being a game and such. However over the years it's changed! No longer a game, instead the Rescas explosion seemed to have had a .. strange affect on Gordon, due to him being right next to it. At least, that's what they all believe at first.