#and their Not Good At Expressing It is very different from Thomas' Not Good At Expressing It | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ssweetleaf · 1 year ago

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dark blue.

tommy shelby x fem!reader

summary: you're finn's girlfriend- and you've always received the same question, what's a good girl like you doing with a boy like him? funnily enough, his older brother thomas wonders the same thing.

includes: SMUT 18+, dom/sub dynamics, age-gap (tommy is in his early 40s, reader early 20s, though it isn't specified), innocence kink/corruption kink, cheating, daddy kink, oral (male rec), throat fucking, cum-eating, based on this ask here

a/n: feedback is always very much appreciated!! <3

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“What’s a good girl like you doin’ with a boy like Finn, eh?”

It was a common saying you'd get from various people over the few months that you'd been seeing a certain Finn Shelby-- you were used to it, the constant stares of disbelief that someone like you, someone so sweet, with pretty dresses and full of radiance would want anything to do with an up-and-coming gangster.

It was love, at least that's what you told yourself.

So after hearing that certain question so many times without batting an eyelid, why did it sound so different when it came from him?

Thomas Shelby. Your boyfriend's older brother. All stoic and dressed to impress and intimidate, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth like always, smoking on it without a care in the world whether he was allowed to in a house like yours or not.

He had surprised you, scared the wits out of you-- you were alone in the comfort of your bedroom, sitting at your vanity doing your nightly routine before he had shown up. You hadn't a clue how he'd gotten in, and he was smug about it, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth a big indicator.

You stood up, smoothing down your nightgown when it clung to the thickness of your thighs and attempted to make eye contact and stutter out a few words.

"M-Mr Shelby," you breathed, fiddling with your hands when you clasped them in front of you. "What're you doing here?"

Tommy's eyes flicked around your room, taking note of your white walls and plush, pink duvet-- the trinkets scattered along your room all cutesy and girly. Just like you and your stupid nightgown, he thought.

"Came here to properly introduce myself," he spoke, inhaling another drag and exhaling the harsh smoke in your direction.

"But we've already met," your brows furrowed, cocking your head to the side impishly and unsure. "It was the other day, don't you remember?"

"I do," he flicked his tongue over his lips to moisten them, eyes still fixated on you. "but that was far too formal, don't you think, sweetheart?"

An unusual shiver ran along your spine-- sweetheart, you liked the way it sounded, the way he said it. Finn never called you sweetheart.

You nodded, in a foggy daze, staring at him with a somewhat dumb expression on your face.

Tommy cleared his throat and you quickly shook yourself out of your strange stupor.

"Aren't y'gonna invite me to sit?" he asked, eyebrows raised, waiting. "that's what polite girls do, isn't it?"

You were quick to nod your head, pulling out your vanity chair and inviting him to sit, just like he had asked. He sat down, the contrast of his dark exterior with your pretty pink belongings had butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach-- a sense that he didn't belong there, but the thrumming between your thighs was obvious that you liked him being there, amongst you, amongst your things.

He stubbed his cigarette out in a little jewellery dish that sat upon your vanity, heart-shaped and porcelain, now covered in grey, smoking ash. You knew better than to chastise him for it.

"You didn't answer my question," he muttered, clasping his hands in front of him, though differently to you, it was in confidence, to intimidate.

You thought about it. Why were you with Finn?

"W-We're in love, sir," you stuttered, not meeting his gaze, your cheeks were on fire.

"You don't look too sure about that, sweetheart," there it was again, that name, a single term going straight to your core, a surge of wetness saturating the cotton of your underwear. "Has he fucked you yet?"

You coughed on your own spit, eyes bulging out of their sockets at his crude question.

"Pardon?" you breathed, exasperated.

His reply was simple.

"You heard me."

"I don't believe that's any of your concern-" he was quick to interject, eyes swarming and dark, consuming you, leaving you to hang your head and cower.

"Finn's my brother," he spoke, "I have the right to know what he gets up to, and I don't want him corrupting a good girl like you just because he thinks he's in love."

You flushed at his words and you decided to answer his previous question, no matter how inappropriate.

"We haven't," your words were soft, quiet, he almost had trouble hearing you.

"Haven't what?" he hid his smirk, he already had you wrapped around his little finger, it was too easy.

"Had sex," you muttered, cheeks searing at your confession.

“Do you want to?” He asked, you stiffened, lashes fluttering and lips opening and closing like a poor fish out of water.

“M-maybe…”

“Come here,” Tommy patted his thigh, signalling you to come closer, to stand between his spread legs and have him look at you much closer. You did as he asked, you were a good girl after all.

“Do you want me to show you what it’s like?” He cooed all condescending and mocking, “Do you want me to show you what big, bad men do to little girls like you?”

“Mr Shelby, what about Finn?” His eyes darkened at the mere mention of his youngest brother.

“Fuck Finn,” he spoke slowly, “you forget about him when I’m talking to you, you understand me?”

You nodded, resting your hands against his shoulders to steady you when he tugged you closer by the frills of your nightgown.

“Yes, Mr Shelby,”

“No, no, none of that,” he shook his head, hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing against your soft, covered skin. “You address me properly.”

You searched your mind for the right term, brows furrowing and lips pouting, trying to think what on earth he wanted you to address him by.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he chuckled, bringing his thumb and forefinger to grip your chin, tugging it from side to side. “I’m your daddy now, isn’t that right?”

You whined, unable to control it, rubbing your thighs together, your walls collapsing and letting your submissive nature come to the forefront.

Thomas Shelby was the devil himself, you were sure— and he was your daddy. Finn had disappeared from your mind completely.

“Yes,” you sighed, all dreamily and cute, leaning into his touch, “yes, daddy.”

His plump lips curved up into a smirk, palm patting at your cheek as if you were a dog, eager for praise-- and you realised that wasn't too far from the truth; just a bitch in heat, eager and ready for her first breeding.

You stared at him, dumbified from those cornflower irises of his, almost hypnotizing, and you were sure you'd comply with anything he'd ask of you.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Tommy could practically see the gears shifting beneath your skull and he raised his brows when you stuttered, a silent 'I'm waiting' when you took far too long to answer him.

"C-Can I have a kiss?" you spoke shyly, thumbing the expensive cotton of his crisp shirt, growing impossibly warmer and not just because of the close proximity. "please?"

You made sure to add your plea, keeping your manners intact, giving him something to be proud of you for.

So innocent, he thought, you really were such a good girl-- something he thought was all just an act to get what you wanted, however with the way you stumbled over your words and fluttered your lashes, more eager for a kiss than anything else- anything more.

Yeah, that was no act.

Tommy fought the smile that ticked at his lips, using his fingers to tip your chin, tugging you closer, closer, closer, until you were a hair's width away. You could feel his lips brush against the skin of your cheek, gently, so uncharacteristic, you didn't think that a man of his status and power could be so sweet on someone.

Though, of course, that's what Tommy Shelby wanted you to think, he wanted you to succumb to the desires that he caused, take you and defile you and leave you wanting no man other than himself. He craved the power imbalance, the sick need to corrupt young, naive little girls like yourself.

Tommy Shelby was not sweet. He was worlds apart from that.

The soft feeling of his lips grew nearer, to your cheek, then to the corner of your mouth, before pecking your lips-- a small spongy kiss, capable of urging a little whine to escape your throat.

He kissed you again, slotting your mouths together, locking your lips one over the other, deepening the kiss and it quickly became heated. Swiping his tongue along your bottom lip, he didn't have the patience to wait for you to open up, instead forcing his prodding tongue inside your mouth, crudely swiping it against yours, sucking it between his lips before running it along the ridges of your teeth.

You didn't think kissing could feel so dirty, so unhinged, but you were rather ashamed to say you liked it. The way his callused hands trailed from your hips to your neck, all the way back down just to take a handful of your behind, squeezing the doughy globes roughly and playing with them as if you were a mere toy.

Tommy pulled away, a long, silver line of spit keeping your lips connected, only breaking apart when he began to speak, pushing at your shoulders and urging you to the carpet.

"On your knees," his voice was raspy, and he cleared his throat, clearly affected by you, by your innocence more like. "gonna teach you how to keep men like me happy."

You instantly obeyed, dropping to your knees and sitting on your haunches, practically purring when he cupped and stroked your cheek.

He eyed you from below him, perched in the space between his knees and he spread them further to let you shuffle closer, your hands on his thighs.

"You're a good little pet, aren't you?" he cooed, swiping his thumb along your chin, "such a good listener, eh?"

You beamed up at him, leaning into his touch and nodding enthusiastically.

"Yes, Daddy," a little giggle pushed past your lips, "for you."

"That's right," he hummed, "just f'me."

You had an idea of what he wanted you to do and you fiddled with his belt in anticipation for his next command.

"You're gonna learn how to properly suck cock," he spoke, "and y'gonna do a fucking good job of it."

Your mouth watered at the prospect of having his cock on your tongue. You sighed dreamily.

"And once I've taught ya, that's gonna be your job from now on-- gonna ease daddy's stress whenever he needs you to."

You nodded, cheeks searing.

"Yes, sir- I'll do anything f'you."

He had you where he wanted you, compliant and ready to yield at his every command. It was too fucking easy, he almost wanted to laugh at your naivety, how unaffected you were by the idea of having another man's cock down your throat, your own boyfriend's brother in fact and Finn hadn't even crossed your mind. Poor, poor Finn, always second best when it came to being compared to Tommy.

You may have been a good girl and did as the older man said, but you were still a whore at heart. His little harlot.

"Come on then, sweetheart, I haven't got all day," he chastised, cocking his head down to his belt that you hadn't unbuckled yet. You had so much left to learn.

You fumbled with the leather that encircled his waist, pulling it through the silver buckle and from the loops before unzipping his fly and pulling his tailored trousers down as far as you could to his thighs.

The bulge in his briefs was prominent and your mouth salivated at the sight, your natural reaction to a sight so delectable, your first cock to suck and it was so big too, you wondered how you'd be able to take him without choking on him. But where was the fun if you weren't?

Your instincts told you to reach out and grab it, so you did just that, palming him through his underwear and feeling the warmth of his shaft jolt and throb against your grip, already hard and you swore you noticed a little wet spot saturating the fabric-- a trick of the light, you thought.

Tommy sucked in a sharp breath, giving you a pointed look, eyebrow raised.

"I'm not 'ere to get teased," he huffed, as if his cock wasn't jumping at the touch of your hand. He took a handful of your hair, tugging it and making your scalp burn. "come on, take it out and get to work."

Your fingers curled under the elastic of his briefs, pulling the fabric down to rest where his trousers were, and the sight had you gawking, eyes as wide as saucers as you took in his pretty appendage.

So thick, littered with blue veins, the colour much akin to the blue of his eyes and you swallowed down all the saliva that pooled under your tongue. His tip was a pretty shade of tan, glistening with beads of pre-cum, slapping against his stomach every time he throbbed.

"I didn't know they could be this pretty," you marvelled, taking hold of it and delicately running your fingers up each prominent vein. Tommy cleared his throat at your unexpected praise, the grip on your hair a lot softer than before, instead of tugging on it, he petted it down softly, watching you watch him.

"Put me in your mouth, darling," you smiled up at him teasingly pouting up at him.

"So impatient," you teased, your confidence rising, before you tightened your grip, puckering your lips around his tip, sucking it as if he were one of your favourite lollipops.

You took him out of your mouth with a soft pop, just to reattach yourself to him, lathering your tongue over his sensitive head, the somewhat salty taste igniting your tastebuds and you hummed around him.

"There y'go, you can take more than that," you hollowed your cheeks at his words, going lower, taking him deeper and slowly you started to bob your head up and down, moaning at his taste and thickness on your tongue.

With a particularly harsh downward thrust of your head, he reached the back of your throat, instantly causing you to gag and you pulled off him, whining and sniffling with tears ebbing over your waterline.

"Good girl," he cooed breathlessly, chest heaving and palms cradling your face, hushing and settling you when you continued to whine out. "Doin' so well, got me a little whore in the making, hm?"

He pushed you back onto his cock, guiding you down, down, down until you were gagging once again, though this time you didn't pull off of him, you couldn't, not with the strength he was using to hold and keep your head down. Your nose brushed against the course thatch of hair that littered his pelvis and you tried to resist gagging at the stupidly large intrusion by breathing steadily through your nose.

You wanted so badly to rise for air, to ease the soreness that started to buzz in your throat, but although this was your first time, a true beginner, he still treated you like one of his most proficient whores. Coughing and spluttering, drool started to slip from your mouth and down your chin, so messy and slick, dripping down the length of your neck, saturating your pink nightgown and settling in the space between your tits.

"Fuck," he groaned, "gonna fuck this little virgin throat, gonna make you choke- doesn't that sound good, sweet girl?"

With the way you sobbed and moaned around him, he took it as a yes, keeping a good, firm grip upon your tresses to bob you up and down as he pleased, thrusting his hips upwards and meeting your mouth in the middle.

You grew light-headed, crude, sloppy sounds filling the air along with your constant gags and you quickly slapped at his thigh, urging him to let you up, to go easy on you and let you catch your breath. He didn't stop, however, didn't even slow down, purposeful in messing with you and teaching you that he was in charge-- he would decide whether you needed to breathe or not.

He chuckled at your vulnerability, stopping his thrusts to to sheath himself deep down your throat and keep you still, just the feeling of you gagging around his shaft was enough to stimulate him.

Eventually, he let you up for breath, marvelling at how you coughed and struggled to catch your breath, your throat feeling entirely abused and sore each time you swallowed. His pretty cock jolted at the sight of you, so messy and whoreish, hair tangled and spit dribbling down your chin.

"Breathe, darling," he cooed, cupping your tear-stained cheeks between his rough palms and pouting at you mockingly, pressing a rather condescending peck to your forehead. "Bein' so good-- almost done, sweetheart, just gotta make daddy cum and then you can rest that lovely throat of yours."

You breathed shakily, settling down on your haunches again and grabbing his slick cock in your grasp.

"Okay, Daddy," you sniffled, such a sweet girl, even with a cock in your hand.

Tommy guided you down, conducting your movements with a thrust and push to your head, keeping you pliant and submerging himself within you, and if your throat felt this good his head reeled at the thought of your pussy-- so tight and virginal, untouched, not even by your curious little fingers.

He'd have all of you soon enough.

You could see his stomach muscles clenching, thighs flexing from under your palms and you hummed around him when you noticed his thrusts growing sloppier.

"Fuck," Tommy groaned, breaths haphazard and shaky, "you ready, sweet girl? You ready to taste Daddy's cum? Y'gonna swallow it all, aren't you, otherwise m'gonna have to force feed it down that pretty throat."

You stared up at him as best as you could, fluttering your lashes, tears spilling and clouding your vision, though you blinked them away, eager to see him, to see the way his face would contort, how beautiful he'd look whilst shooting cum inside your mouth.

One, two, three more thrusts were all it took for him to start convulsing, cock jolting on your tongue and spilling his seed, coating the walls of your constricting throat. He was groaning, moaning out loud, sounds so pretty you had to keep your thighs clenched tight.

"Shit- good girl, such a good little whore, you are."

He continued to ride his orgasm out, until he grew far too over-sensitive, pulling himself out of your mouth and lifting your head up, spent and eyes hooded watching you swallow his seed and hum at the newfound taste-- something you already found yourself becoming addicted to.

"Look," you beamed, still teary-eyed and shaky on your knees, you opened your mouth wide, sticking out your tongue for him to marvel at, completely clean of all traces of his cum, now deep in your belly. "swallowed it all, daddy- just like you said."

Tommy's head started to spin, praising you at how good you had been though he felt strange, heart thumping in his chest at the mere sight of you, he felt soft, a small smile on his face without realising.

He thought you were wrapped tightly around his finger, however he had begun to realise in such a short time it was the complete opposite way around.

#tommy shelby blurb #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders smut #cillian murphy blurb #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader

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dcxdpdabbles · 3 months ago

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Thomas: Martha, darling, we need to talk. Could you stop telling Bruce bedtime stories about ghosts? They're giving him nightmares.

Martha: They are not bedtime stories. They're recounts of my family's bitter history fighting against ghosts. I told you my mother's family has been ghost hunters for generations.

Thomas: Darling, I love you, but ghosts aren't real.

Martha: Yes, they are! People refuse to acknowledge them and are erasing history to fit their narrative, but I won't let them! That's why I'm pushing the Gotham Museum to do an exhibit on John Fentonightingale. He was one of the first witch hunters and ghost hunters who attempted to break Gotham's curse, you know? The family is very proud of-

Thomas: Yes, I heard all about John Fentonnightingale from your little cousin Jack at the wedding.

Martha: He's a sweetheart, isn't he? Already planning to continue the family tradition at fourteen. You know, despite the fact we're ten years apart, we're so close that I consider him my baby brother. I just wish he had a more humane view of ghosts. I agree we need to remove them for human safety, but we don't have to be cruel to things. They are basically animals, and only a psychopath is mean to animals.

Thomas: Yes, you mentioned that before, and I agree that Jack is rather adorable when he's not hyper. But Martha, please lay off the talk about ghosts. Bruce is only six.

Martha: No! He needs to understand the danger he's in.

Thomas sighs: Alfred, please give me strength.

Alfred in the corner of the ceiling: I can pour you a shot of gin, sir.

Thomas: ....Why are you in the ceiling?!

Alfred: Dusting.

Martha: Never mind that! Alfred watches us all the time; it's normal.

Thomas: Wait, what do you-

Martha: I know how to prove ghosts are real to you. I may be a Fenton on my mother's side, but I'm also a Kane. And any Kane worth her salt is a witch in the making. I'll summon the most vigorous protective spirit in the Infinite Realms for you to see. *Drops to draw a circle in chalk*

Alfred: Ma'am, are you sure that's wise? In my experience, anything from the Infinite Realms is dangerous. Also, Master Thomas, could you move a little closer? I can't see your expressions and like visuals with my audio.

Martha: Don't worry Alfrie, that's why I'm calling a protective spirit. They're different from the ghosts, and they will not harm us.

Thomas: Martha, please. You're just staining the wood flooring. NO, Alfred. I CAN NOT MOVE CLOSER. GO AWAY.

Alfred: Well, how rude.

Thomas: Martha-

Martha: Done! Now I call upon thee, oh mighty Great One, Danny Phantom!

Thomas: Honey, Darling, Apple of my eye that's not even a good chant-

Danny being dragged from his cozy bed years in the future by a glowing circle that shifted him into Phantom: WHAT'S HAPPENING!?

Martha: Look, Darling, there he is. A real-life ghost. How do you like those apples?

Thomas/Danny:

Alfred: I think you broke them, Ma'am

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #from a fic i never wrote #Martha is a Fenton on her Mother's side #The Infinite Realms are connect through space AND time #Danny has a heart attack seeing Thomas Wayne alive #Thomas has a heart attack seeing a ghost #Alfred likes to spy #Martha is smug until they can't sent him home

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taeaura · 4 months ago

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Serious question, because this might have changed the storyline of the tcm remakes. If Thomas ever had at least one friend, that ONE friend he managed to get from his upbringing. Possibly back from his childhood, too, let's just say that.

Would Thomas be possessive or a meek individual who would be desperate to keep them close. Like I'm talking about an extreme level of possessiveness that it would be considered sick. I think there's a word for that, I just don't know what it's called.

Because I can see Thomas becoming a stalker at one point and possibly following somebody close to him around if he needs to. Like a "threat" is close to his dear friend, and he's afraid that this person might take them away from him.

|Proprietorial|

GN!Reader x Thomas Hewitt 🫀

SUMMARY: You and Thomas have known each other since grade school. As the town of Fuller dies, so does your desire to stay. Feeling guilty, you decide to visit the Hewitts one last time..but Thomas gets possessive following your attempted departure..

_____

Thomas is and always has been desperate for connection. Genuine understanding - Not just acknowledgement. It's rare to be accepted when you're different - And it sure as hell doesn't get easier in a small, conservative town like Fuller. Luckily enough, he had found someone. Someone who didn't recoil in disgust - Someone who didn't laugh when he tried to speak. Someone his momma approved of.

That was back in grade school - Back when things in Fuller were "good." Though, were they ever really good?

When his momma told you about the slaughterhouse shutting down, you were nothing but empathetic. You even offered to help the family out with what little time and money you had. Luda Mae, being the prideful woman she was, declined your offer.

"Keep some for yourself, hun. Gotta do what it takes to survive out here...we'll figure out a way."

Everything got worse when you decided you couldn't stay.

One day, you stopped visiting Luda at the community center. No longer stopped by the slaughterhouse to see Thomas. It was like you were never there.

You had to tell them you were leaving - It wouldn't be right to abandon them all on their own..especially not Thomas. So, you packed up a small basket and headed over to the Hewitt residence. That evening, when you'd knocked on the door, Monty answered.

"Whadd'ya want?"

"I'm here for Ms. Mae..Luda Mae; And Thomas - Are they home?"

He squinted his eyes and weakly scoffed before opening the door further, letting you walk through. He then directed you to the kitchen where Luda Mae was; She'd been preparing dinner just as you walked in.

Monty swiftly knocked on the doorframe, grabbing her attention. As she turned, she scoffed "Monty, for the last damn time, I-" She stopped. Her expression neutralized as she saw you.

"Oh, ____, there you are! Gosh, I haven't seen you in so long; Where've you been?" - "Tommy's been worried sick about you.."

There it was. You'd made Thomas worry..which is exactly why you dreaded coming over; You didn't want to be reminded of the guilty feeling festering inside your stomach.

"Is he alright?" You asked, and Luda nodded.

"Oh, he's just fine, dear. Why don't you go say hi? He's in that damn basement again.."

You agreed, but quickly remembered the basket you brought.

"What's that?" Asked Charlie, he had been watching from the opposing doorway..unbeknownst to you.

"Oh..gifts..for you."

"Me?"

"Well, the family, yes."

"That's so kind of you, dear. What for?" Asked Luda Mae, grabbing the basket from you and placing it on the kitchen table.

"Just..felt like bringing some joy to this dying town."

"That's very kind of ya - Now go see what Tommy's up to, he's missed you like crazy" Charlie said, unimpressed. He sniffled before taking a swig of his beer.

You'd known the Hewitt house's layout well; It's not like Thomas would invite you over after school some days...The basement was across from the front door, it'd be hard to miss unless the archway was blocked. As you approached the ominous door, you took back your hand from the handle. What if Thomas didn't want to see you? What if he'd grown resentful of you? You sighed, closed your eyes and went to open the door. To your surprise, a loud screeching sound interrupted you as the door opened seemingly by itself -Except, doors don't open by themselves.

Behind the doorway, a tall, familiarly built man stood before you. His half-mask..muzzle of sorts was tightly wrapped around his head, strangling his neck and chin. He must've heard you - or his family, talking.

"Hi Tommy; I'm so sorry, I know I've been absent - It's not you, I've just been so stressed and confused and-"

You were rambling. He never seemed to mind, especially when you called him "Tommy." He never liked when just anyone used that nickname, it was special. You were special - To him, at least.

"I need to talk to you about something." The way you said that caused him to tense a little. Talk about what? Was it his job? Did he disappoint you?

"Listen, Thomas" Oh no, you were being serious, weren't you? "I love you and your family so so much, and I'm so grateful to have known you for this long..but..I can't stay here."

..What?

"I can't afford to stay here any longer, Tommy. I don't know how you folks are staying - I..there's no jobs, no resources out here, no nothing. It's all gone! I can't live a life like that, how do you survive out here? I'd..I'd love to stay but it's not sustainable for me. I'm so sorry, Thomas."

You're leaving me. After all we've been through together, you're leaving. Just as uncle Charlie said you would..

"It's not anything you've done. I swear."

You can't leave. I won't let you leave - I have nothing. I'll prove to you how good I am - How good I can be, I swear. You can live with us on this farm, just like momma always dreamed of. You're not leaving me; Not after you've met momma, not after the countless times you've saved me from callous assholes out here. No - I couldn't..

"Thomas?"

He had been so lost in thought that he forgot to respond. His expression had dropped immensely - He had been so excited to see you again but now all that excitement was gone.

He'd lost Charlie once. Came close to losing everything, everyone. He would never let that happen again. Especially not when it came to losing you.

"Thomas.."

He had to keep you. Keep you here; In the basement; In the barn; Maybe in a spare bedroom - His bedroom. It didn't matter. You could would not leave.

As he stared you down, you felt an emptiness surround you - A dark, restless entity caging you in. Just as you thought he'd lose it, a voice pierced through from the archway:

"Thomas? Thomas, what on God's green Earth are you doing?"

It was Luda Mae. You didn't know if she'd heard your "conversation" but you were glad enough that she'd come through.

"Now, Tommy, I know you're upset, but let's just..leave ____ to breathe a minute. Okay?"

You mumbled a meek "Thank you" before wiping an unknown tear from your cheek. You'd never seen him like that - Most definitely not with you.

As your anxiety curtailed, you made your way to the living room to sit, holding your head in your hands. You hadn't noticed Monty sitting in the armchair beside the couch; Hell, you hadn't noticed the TV playing either. It was playing some..random news station - One of the few you could get out here.

"So you're leaving us, huh?" He spoke in a rough, gravelly voice.

"You heard that?" You sniffled.

"With the way you were talking, the whole damn house heard." Shit..had you been loud? It didn't seem like it in the moment..

"Don't worry about Thomas, he's a big ol’ crybaby, ain't he?"

You refused to answer. Seeing Thomas so distressed, so..frightened by the idea of you leaving, it fed your already aggravated guilt. So many hours in his room, so many repetitive school days spent together, drawing in the back of the class. The days when you two used to spend hours at the creek, collecting all sorts of treasures. He even picked a wildflower-bouquet for you - Granted, it was all dirty and withered, but it was enough to signify how much he cared about you. How grateful he was to have you here.

You were stripped of your thoughts as you heard Monty groan and yawn, falling asleep in his chair. The TV had become background noise for the both of you. On the table, two glasses filled with murky water and a note; Folded and slightly dirty. You wiped your eyes again and picked up the note, unfolding it.

Don't leave.

Please.

_____

Guys this is ass should I log off

Anyway, if I didn't cover everything you wanted, please let me know and I'll update it!

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your-nanas-house · 2 years ago

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I have an idea for a smutty dark/Dom Tommy fic if you're open to writing it! I'm not sure on a plot but involing him wearing and keeping on his leather gloves, thank you in advance!!!

Yessssss, love it. Thank you so much! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Not a virgin anymore

(credits to the owner of the gif)

◇ Pairing: Dark!Tommy Shelby X Finn's girlfriend!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, age gap (both off age), fingering, dry humping, mean Tommy

◇ Summary: Tommy checks if Finn's girl is as pure as he claims.

◇ Note: Sorry if it took me so long. A huge thank you to @mrkdvidal1989 that helped me so much, you helped me so much with my mood and the writing of this. Thank you 😭 Also It's pretty much a collab.

“I think I wanna marry her” Finn informed his brothers without being able to hold back a bright grin, his eyes scanning them as he waited for a reply, any advice or.. a comment of any kind at least.

He knew that he was quite young to think about marriage, since he hit adulthood just two years before, but the emotions he felt for this young woman were true.

As no one opened their mouths to say something, just continuing to glance at each other, Finn spoke up again ”I fookin’ love her” his mood still so eager and happy.. like a puppy in love.

Still nothing, everyone was mostly waiting for Thomas to say something, but the older man kept staring blankly at his younger brother, seated on his armchair.. legs open and arms resting there, supporting his head and cigarette as if he was lost in thoughts.

“Nothing to say?” Finn asked, getting impatient, his eyes glancing between the older ones, Tommy and Arthur.

As the youngest brother got clearly frustrated, Arthur cleared his throat.

“Hmm… you fookin’ know her for how long, eh? Nearly six months?” he reminded his brother, mocking him before being interrupted quickly

“SO? When John married he didn’t even know Esme’s damn name!” Finn quickly pointed out, already getting riled up by the situation.

Fin always did that. Hating how his brothers treated him because of the age difference, completely oblivious to the fact that he… was acting very childish too often for Tommy to see him as an equal to John or Arthur.

His poorly thought-out decisions and lack of discipline when it came to listening to orders of his older brothers were playing a huge part in how Thomas viewed him.

”Have you thought about the responsibilities that come with becoming a Shelby, Fin? Have you already introduced them to your chosen one? Risk Our ways and how we deal with things?.. Have you thought about that? Huh?” He pressed, leaning forward as his patience ran short with how snappy Fin was. Lack of respect was just another thing he despised in his younger brother.

”I-I…” The young man stammered out, looking for any line to defend himself.. unsuccessfully, making Thomas scoff while putting out his cigarette into an ashtray.

”What’s her name again?...” He rasped out, his now free hand tapping impatiently against the fabric of the armchair, his cold gaze piercing his brother's face without a hint of any positive emotions.

“Y/n..Y/n Y/l/n” Finn replied in a murmur, his older brother’s comments affecting him more than he wished they would.

The name kept repeating in Thomas’ head, before a cocky amused smirk cracked his serious expression.

“Now I get why yer want to marry her” he chuckled bitterly leaning forward, face to face with Finn.

“She’s as good as her mother, eh?” he asked mockingly, pouring himself a glass of whiskey “You don’t marry whores, you just tame them, Finn. Am I right?” he asked his other two brothers with amusement in his voice, not really expecting an answer.

His mischievous mood changed quickly as Finn suddenly got up from his seat.

“She’s not!.. She’s not like her mother.. She's a good girl, goes to church, helps around and works in the local bakery." The youngest Peaky Blinder informed them, narrowing his eyes at Tommy’s reaction. Watching with a clenched jaw as the older man hummed mockingly, gulping fast down the strong drink before he spoke again, not changing his attitude.

“A good girl, huh… I bet”, making the other laugh at Finn as well.

“It’s true! You… I’ll make you fookin’ meet her”

It took him just a couple of days to organise a meeting between them, inviting them all to her house. It was a pretty cosy, little, modest house settled in Small Heath. Nothing fancy but it was visible that the people living there were doing their very best to keep it nice.

The male part of the family of Shelby's stood on the porch on the agreed day and time.

Their expensive suits looking odd contrasting with the domestic and homey look of the building and little wooden decorations standing in the garden.

Finn was smiling, standing at the forefront of the group while Arthur and John kept joking back and forth, in front of Tommy, whose face remained serious and uninterested as he waited.

After knocking on the door, they didn't have to wait long before an old woman, probably in her 60s, appeared in the doorway. A friendly smile lingering on her wrinkled face that looked great accompanied by the dark pink dress she wore.

”Good morning, Mister” She spoke up seeing Finn, earning a polite smile from him. They clearly had met each other previously, so she wasn't very alarmed by the sight of four men in suits standing at the door. “Good morning, nana” Finn greeted, removing his hat for respect, cleaning his shoes before entering the familiar house, heading directly towards the living room.

John was the next to enter the house, along with Arthur, a smirk still on his face due to the jokes they were sharing previously

“Good morning, na— Mrs. Y/l/n” he corrected himself quickly as Arthur slapped the back of his head “Be fookin’ polite” he murmured under his breath, smiling at the older woman before kissing her hand as he bowed his head slightly “Good morning, ma’am, thank you for inviting us into your house” he stated, winking before following the direction Finn took, not noticing the weird side eye Tommy gave him as he cleaned his soles before walking in as well with the same unbothered expression.

”Mornin’” Thomas nodded, keeping his cap on. After all he didn't come here for a tea, he had his own purpose.

Purpose of proving Finn how wrong he was when it comes to little Y/n.

The older woman’s eyes widened as she felt the weird, intimidating aura surrounding the middle brother. Mumbling her greeting, she quickly disappeared into the kitchen, chatting with Arthur and John as she put the kettle on the stove.

As Finn tried to head towards the same direction, Tommy's calloused hand grabbed his shoulder roughly. Turning him to face him, he leaned to his level. The serious and business expression on his face.

”I’m going to have a chat with your little fiancé, eh? You stay there and entertain the old woman and your brothers while I check if she is who you say she is.” he stated harshly in a fierce voice, his eyes glancing at the older woman and back at him before messing up his hair as if he was still a child.

Ignoring completely the worried expression on his face, because Thomas was aware that Finn knew better than to ask questions.

The younger brother stood still for a moment before nodding with a resigned expression, turning around and slowly walking away towards the kitchen. Practically leaving his girlfriend in the lion's mouth.

It was Tommy’s first time in that house so he didn’t really know where to go, luckily for him Y/n’s soft voice led him to what it looked like a small studio. A pretty dark room, with only one window which was close, it was decorated with lots of books and a wooden desk where the young woman was standing behind, holding an old phone, busy talking with someone.

”Yes, aunty. I'll let her know” she replied with a smile, despite the fact that the person on the other side of the phone couldn't see it, her hand busy playing with the tiny golden chain with a cross. Her eyes moving from the spot she was staring at to move closer to the desk “I have to leave you now, we were supposed to have guests today.. I think they are here already” she informed her, glancing towards the door, getting startled by Tommy’s figure standing there as if he owned the place.

He didn’t say anything to interrupt her call, his gloved hands just woven together in front of him, his head tilted to the side as he watched the girl.

“I love you too, auntie. Bye” she murmured, hanging up the call to give Tommy’s her complete attention

“Mr Shelby— Welcome, I didn’t hear you come in…” she started, eyeing him suspiciously, her innocent girl facade. staring back at him.

“Nana doesn’t like when people wear caps inside of her house… it’s a way to show respect” she pointed out, already a bit annoyed by his attitude. Thomas chuckled hearing her words, as he adjusted the peaky cap on his head.

”Nana didn't offer me a cup of tea, which isn't really polite either, eh?” He spoke up with a hint of mockery before entering her room and closing the door behind, making sure to lock it.

“She’s probably still preparing it, we have fresh baked cookies, though.” Y/n pointed out as her expression softened. Her demeanour changed as she tried to keep her temper down. It should have been a calm day but a lot of things that set her off happened, so she wasn’t in the right state of mind to deal with Tommy fucking Shelby.

Be proper, Y/n thought just like she was always told. Plastering a small smile on her face, her eyes moving from Thomas’ face to the door and back. “They are in the living room, sir,”

Tommy chuckled at her words, walking slowly further into her room, looking around with a grin as he hummed.

“That's one way to decorate a girl's room, eh?” He scoffed, eyeing her suggestively, touching the colourful figurines standing on shelves. ”Definitely furnished to be a whore's own.” he casually pointed out, checking the books casually. “Guess they paid your mom good enough, huh? Family business it is, sweetheart?” the older man moved his gaze towards her standing form, smirking amused at her blank stare.

“Pardon?” she stuttered out through her utter shock, her head tilting to the side.“You here to disrespect a dead woman, Mr Shelby? If so.. You can fucking leave!” she spat out angrily, staring blankly at him for a couple of minutes before sighing and looking away, playing nervously with her cross while she headed to the door.

“My condolences… I’m here because of the sick idea you put in my little brother’s head” Tommy spoke in an emotionless tone, reaching for a pack of cigarettes in his pocket.. Lighting one without even asking for approval.

“Finn talked about you quite a lot lately, speaking about how pure, innocent, religious… and a good girl you are. You got him quite smitten, eh?” Thomas pointed out after inhaling deeply, his hand rubbing his chin “Well… what I was wondering about was how much of this is actually true.” He murmured, meeting her gaze with a smirk as he moved closer, hand reaching for her chin. “How much of a little saint you actually are, eh? Sweetheart.” he added, blowing out the smoke in her face, his fingers digging painfully into her skin as she looked into his empty, blue eyes.

Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed at his harsh tone, her eyes narrowing as her mouth remained shut. Struggling in his grip, she tried to free herself, unsuccessfully.

She was losing her patience quite quickly and it wasn't something that happened frequently… but there she was, angrily standing in front of what was the most feared man of Birmingham.

“I am.. I'm.. intact, if that's your concern, Mr. Shelby” She informed him in a sarcastically pleasant tone, a hint of harsh arrogance clear as day, caused by how annoyed she was by the conversation they were having.

Her small hands curling into fists, squeezing tightly when Tommy just nodded almost mockingly, his icy stare moving across her body slowly, carefully measuring each part of her body. Not worried about gentlemanly manners, Thomas stared, as if he was checking her out.

“Sure” he simply said, the tone of his voice intact, but the look in his blue eyes wasn't trying to hide how little he believed her. Putting out his cigarette, he threw it on the floor while keeping eye contact, showing disrespect to her words and the place she lived. Simply because he could.

Y/n gasped at his behaviour, quickly moving towards his silhouette as she pushed her finger against his chest, threatening.

“I fucking am, fucking check if you don’t believe me.” she whispered yelled, staring in his eyes boldly as he looked down at her, not a single emotion visible on his face. Almost like he was a statue carved from stone.

Tommy’s eyebrows raised slightly, his cold stare piercing her own, before lowering down to her chest which kept heaving with her deep breaths, caused purely by the anger she felt.

His hand moved to the edge of her dress, grabbing onto the fabric as he tried to raise it up, making Y/n realise his intention quickly and act impulsively… her hand made an impact with his cheek suddenly, throwing his face to the side slightly. Only after a second she realised what she's done, eyes widening in fear at the sight of his skin turning red.

The loud noise echoing in the room, as Tommy’s, now, dark gaze met her fearful eyes. Not a word was exchanged as his hands grabbed her roughly when she tried to escape from him, manhandling her smaller body harshly against the wooden surface of the desk. One hand kept her body flat against it, pressing painfully on the centre of her back, while his other gloved hand pulled up her dress.. revealing her white panties to him.

A hum of approval escaped his lips as he kneaded her flesh, ignoring her whimpers and pleads to stop. The view in front of him, so strangely innocent and pure, made his cock hardening in his pants, in a quite painful way.

Lowering his icy eyes with his hand he moved her thighs apart, rubbing slowly two thick fingers against her clothed folds.

”Look at that, already wet” he cooed mockingly as he moved his fingers, spreading her wetness by using the fabric of her panties.

His left hand digging in the flesh of her covered back, to hold her down and to keep his urges under control. It took much more self-control than he thought it would, not expecting that a girl that pretty would take interest in his inexperienced little brother.

Her eyes were tightly shut, forcing her mouth to stay closed, to make sure she wasn't making any noises. Her mind was a mess as his hands travelled down her heat, touching the places that nobody else ever saw.

As soon as his thumb pressed on her clit, her hips involuntarily jerked forward as she bit her bottom lip, trying to muffle the sigh that so desperately tried to escape her lips.

”So needy, eh? What would your grandma think?” Thomas chuckled, feeling how her body tensed, her hands trying to reach him, and push him off, unsuccessfully.

The young woman was so focused on trying to make him stop that she didn’t notice the moment when he pulled her panties to the side, allowing the cold breeze of the room to hit her wet bare pussy.

“No, please– sir!” she yelled in a moment of panic, Tommy’s free hand quickly covering her mouth as he toyed with her folds, opening her so that he could take a look that sent shivers down his spine. That sure was a pretty pussy, he thought while daring to move his index finger to her entrance.

Her sweet nectar wetting his gloved hand, making it even more noticeable “Look at you, sweetheart” he cooed mockingly again, as his finger pushed slightly deeper, in need to find out the truth.

Angling it slightly to the side, with a tip of his digit he could feel the thin barrier that was in the way of her tight tunnel.

Shaking his head, he leaned towards her, his wet lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

”So innocent, aren't you? Such a small, untouched cunt.” He breathed out, the urge to fuck her becoming increasingly stronger.

Letting out a breath, he pressed his index finger inside without even warning her… just grunting quietly into her ear, as she bit down his hand because of the pain.

So tight and warm, he thought. Tommy could feel how wet she was as he moved his gloved finger against her walls, biting on his bottom lip as he kept going further.

By the way she was moving it looked like it hurt her, as if she was feeling the burning sensation. One felt by a pure woman when her cherry was about to be popped.

“I guess you were right, honey” Tommy hummed, now circling her clit with her gloved hand, his middle finger helping his index one to feel her hymen before pressing against it harshly. Leather covering his hands caused his fingers to appear even thicker, stretching her pussy out so much that they both had to fight the urge to groan at the feeling.

Tommy's cock was fully hard at this point, leaking with precum into his underwear as his fingers explored the depths of her virgin pussy.

His eyes daring to close, so that his mind could wander in places it shouldn’t. The mere thought of his thick cock wrapped and squeezed for dear life by her pussy was driving him wild, making his finger start to thrust faster as he moved his hips against nothing, just unable to fight the fantasy that he was inside of her precious cunt.

“Fuck, that’s it, honey” he praised, moving his wrist in a quick motion, leaning closer again. His hot breath hitting her neck with each exhale. ”I knew you were a little slut.” He rasped out in a shaky voice, struggling to keep his composure while feeling her pussy clench down on his fingers like a vice.

“Can feel your filthy cunt squeezing my fingers. Yer fookin’ close, aren’t ye?” he growled in a low tone, parroting back mockingly her noises of pleasure.

Y/n cried out at the humiliation and the overwhelming feeling in her lower belly. Despite her desperate attempts to not give into it, she couldn't fight it as he kept fucking her with his thick, gloved fingers.

”Give it to me. Stop fighting it.” He commanded through his teeth, as he felt his cock throbbing impatiently in his pants, demanding attention.

”N-no!” She pleaded quietly, trying her best to suppress the tension that pushed her on the edge of her first orgasm. Breathing deeply, she caught his wrist, trying to stop him, but Tommy just laughed quietly.

”There you go” He whispered, leaving a small kiss on her temple before shoving his fingers knuckle deep, fucking her with hard and quick strokes, curling his fingers up to hit her g spot with each thrust.

His other hand was clamped over her mouth, which she ended up biting as he made her cum so hard, that just a couple seconds into the orgasm, her body shook and vision went blurry as her juices shot out on his hand, wetting his glove when she squirted for the very first time in her life.

Y/n’s eyes rolled in the back of her head as she trembled, muscles relaxing as the feeling got… way too much. She was too long gone in her pleasure to notice at first the sound of his belt clicking open, the zip of his pants being pulled down with the fabric, so that his cock was finally free.

After licking his gloves from her wetness, he grabbed a hold of her hips, pressing his rock hard cock against her flesh, hsi eyes fluttering shut when he started to move his hips. Grinding at an animalistic pace, his main goal his own pleasure.

He needed to rub his cock, keeping it squeezed tightly between their bodies, for a couple of minutes to finally shoot his load on her lower back.

As they both breathed heavily, he moved carefully away from her, gathering his cum with his hand to shove it in her mouth before fixing his suit and walking out of the room without a word.

He walked followed with the same powerful aura, at a fast pace towards the front door

“Let’s go” Thomas ordered his brothers while walking to the front door, patting Finn’s shoulder with a serious expression

“She’s not a virgin… anymore” he informed him as he stole a cookie and walked out, nodding at the old lady with a crooked grin.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher, @sleepycreativewriter, @mrkdvidal1989

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felassan · 5 months ago

Text

Thread: Sylvia Feketekuty on the influences of Emmrich and the Mourn Watch

The rest of this post is under a cut due to length and possible spoilers.

Sylvia Feketekuty: "I think I've gotten to most people’s questions, and I promised I'd talk about influences on Emmrich and the Mourn Watch before wrapping this up. So here we go! It took me while to figure out Emmrich's character voice. I'm happy with where I landed, but he was a tough one. A few books helped me out. MR James' Collected Ghost Stories (1890-1930) My favourite ghost stories of all time. James excels at building dread, at writing people finding strange things in books, or around the corner, or in the old lane at night."

"He was also an antiquarian and a scholar at Cambridge. I wanted Emmrich and the Watchers to feel formal, but not like they were from another epoch. James’ language, polished by a rich academic career, was an excellent benchmark for 'older, but not ancient'. E.g.: if using contractions was appropriate for James' time, it was appropriate for Emmrich. It freed me up, mentally speaking, to deploy them whenever they improved cadence or flow. Thomas Ligotti's Songs of a Dead Dreamer Fellow Ligotti fans may already be thinking Emmrich doesn't really share the philosophy underpinning Ligotti's work, and they’re right. However!"

"Songs of a Dead Dreamer is filled with fantastical imagery that’s a bit lusher than that found in Ligotti's later works. It was really good at bringing to mind the kind of moody, expansive dreamscapes I think our necromancer mentally occupies. It’s from a different book (Noctuary), but Ligotti’s “The Spectral Estate” also merits a mention. If you plunked it down in front of Emmrich to read, he’d know exactly what it was on about. The Romantic poets (or any poetry on similar themes: overpowering swells of emotion, the grandeur and awe of nature, love and loss and grief.) Palgrave's Golden Treasury was usually in reach."

"If I was in a jam, or psyching myself up for a scene, sometimes I’d read a few poems to get into the proper head space. Or just for the pleasure of it. Poems are great! Please take a link to Shelley's "A Dream of the Unknown", one of my favourites. [link] I also read a few books by morticians and funerary directors. A friend lent me Smoke Gets in your Eyes and From Here to Eternity by Caitlin Doughty (probably the most famous mortician on the internet?) I also checked out Nine Years Under: Coming of Age in an Inner-city Funeral Home by Sheri Booker."

"These books were full of lessons about how people react to death, how different cultures treat it, how anger and grieving express differently but come from the same wellspring. Very humane looks at how we deal with loss and other people. Moving on to non-books: My First Cadaver, a podcast of stories from medical students and medical professionals."

"I listened to a few episodes My First Cadaver, and there were some incredible tales in there. Gross (I could never be a doctor) but incredible. And I was struck by was how much students working on donated cadavers got attached to them. I can’t remember if it was in MFC or not, but there was one story about a medical student introducing his date to the cadaver he was working on like she was a beloved aunt. It was very sweet! Peter Cushing in Horror of Dracula (1958) and The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) These films are filled with handsome costumes, ominous sets, and the oversized passions I associate with gothic melodrama. Cushing's perfect in them."

"His portrayals of Van Helsing and Baron Frankenstein are brisk, determined, obsessive, and brimming with energy; they’re scholars who are experts in their field, yet still men of action. They felt like natural touchstones for a professor suddenly called to grand adventure. I also ended up reading Cushing's memoirs. In a bit of strange synchronicity, there were similarities between his life and traits I'd already decided to give Emmrich. Cushing came from a working-class family, had an intense phobia (his was of the dark), was vegetarian, and so on. I'd had no idea."

"(Humans tend to pattern-match, but it was a little eerie.) A side note: I've seen people speculate Emmrich was based off of Vincent Price. There’s a bit of the good Mr. Price in there, but Cushing got to play more heroic roles than he did. He felt more right to me. A second side note: did you know Vincent Price was a gourmand who loved to entertain? He and his wife Mary put out a beautiful cooking book, A Treasury of Great Recipes, filled with warm and charming commentary. If you're interested in that kind thing, highly recommended!"

"One influence when I was pitching the Memorial Gardens to the rest of the team was Swan Point cemetery in Rhode Island. It's where Lovecraft was buried, and like many a Weird Tales nerd before me, I was curious and wanted to see it."

"I wasn't prepared for was how lush the plants and flowers were, and how beautifully landscaped everything there is. Swan Point is a historical burial place, and also a carefully tended garden and arboretum. It stunned me. I'd never been in a cemetery like it. Emmrich complains about Hezenkoss making him play complicated wargames when they were students, and that one in particular had three separate rulebooks."

"I've seen people guess whether I was referencing D&D or Warhammer 40K. D&D was formative, and I know a frankly embarrassing amount about WH40K at this point (No regrets. Necrons and Admech 4-ever.*) But the origin is even sillier. *Why yes, Mechanicus 2 IS my most anticipated upcoming game. I used to own the first edition of a board game called Mansions of Madness, and was supposed to learn the rules so I could lead my friends through it. But come the day, I’d procrastinated, and was running short on time."

"Fantasy Flight's previous game in the same vein was Arkham Horror, and AH is not a simple game. But I remember being hopeful, as I peeled the shrinkwrap off, that maybe MoM would be easier to learn than AH. Have streamlined rules, or fewer things to remember. Then the top popped off, and three separate rulebooks fell out and slithered to the floor. (The DAV game’s not meant to be MoM, but the absurdity of that moment stuck with me.) (It's not the game's fault, by any means, that I was unprepared, and the session went as well as it could have with me flipping through the books going "Okay wait...hold on...I think that was here...no, wait.") The Nevarran hazelnut torte recipe is actually a family recipe from my grandmother, on my father's side. I’m beyond delighted people have actually made it. (Our recipe uses metric measurements, but the DA style guide uses imperial, so I was worried about the conversion. Looks like it went okay.)"

"On my mother's side of the family: my grandmother cooked and cleaned for a living, and my grandfather was a butcher. He passed away before I was born, and my grandmother when I was very young. So I gave Emmrich’s parents those professions as a little nod to the grandmother I only knew very little, and the grandfather I never met at all. I would’ve liked time with them both. And to end on a lighter note, "Ever thought of becoming a hat person?" is an extremely oblique reference to a line spoken to one of gaming's greatest characters: Murray, the demon skull from Curse of Monkey Island. (Curse is the first Monkey Island game I ever played, and therefore my favourite.)"

"Small bonus: here’s the music I listened to most while working on Emmrich and the Watchers. Some of it probably only makes sense to me, some of it seems thematically obvious. (I don’t have Spotify so best I can do is an itunes screenshot.)"

"Not on the screenshot because I changed PCs halfway through, but I also listened to a lot of music from Cryo Chamber, a great dark ambient label. [link] And their sister label, Cryo Crypt, which does "Dark Fantasy Dungeon Synth." [link] And also Allicorn IS on the screenshot but I think I've listened to his stuff on every game I've worked on by now. [link]"

[thread source link]

---

Bonus: follow-up comments and exchanges -

User: "I KNEW the torte was somebody’s family recipe!!" // Sylvia: "My only regret is that the icing was originally a stove-boiled icing made with eggs and chocolate and butter emulsified together. I couldn't get it working, however, these past few years. I think we lost some crucial part of the steps when trying to write out a clean copy. So I went with ganache for the game, because I didn't want to print something that didn't work, and I've used ganache myself. It's good! But I'm going to try to replicate the original again one day." [source, two] // User: "I noticed that sometimes, ingredients doesn't react the way they used to and part of that is probably due to some "industrial" changes in the recipe for ingredients like chocolate or butter to cut the cost of making them, imho. It's sad because it means we lost a very specific way to do things..." // Sylvia: "Yeah, that was the first thing a friend who bakes a lot suggested. I wonder if I was a victim of "Buttergate" when Canadian cows were being fed so much palm oil butter was harder to spread as a result. After a long search, I found a local place that makes butter that actually tastes good, which is an incredibly sad sentence to have to type out." [source, two]

Sylvia, re: Vincent Price being a gourmand and his cooking book: "It's extremely cool. My library had a copy and I remember it being pretty big, too." [source]

User: "I was following this thread and I'm delighted about all of these facts and information. Thank you for sharing!" // Sylvia: "Aw thank you! And thanks for reading, it was nice to unpack all the stuff kicking around my mental attic." [source]

User, re: MFC: "Sorry to post again but this one got me- my mom is a doc, and i remember her telling me stories of the cadaver she worked on (evidence of different surgeries she had, the cancer she had, etc), and mom always ended her stories saying how thankful she was to her. It really does stick around." // Sylvia: "No need to apologize, I liked hearing about your mom's reaction! It's exactly what I kept hearing and reading about, a sense of reverence for the gift." [source]

Sylvia: ""The irony that I had to convert the measurements back to metric" Haha. I tried to get as close as I could. Here's the written down metric version of the cake batter. It's an older recipe so I had to try to guess what a "knife tip" ended up as." [source]

A user on the torte being a family recipe: "Oh my gosh 🥹 that makes it all even lovelier!" // Sylvia: "Thanks! I was really excited to share the family recipe, it's a bit of work but it's one of my favorites." [source]

A user under the post about MR James' Collected Ghost Stories: "So you're probably the one behind the mysterious bronze whistle, I take it?" // Sylvia: "Haha, guilty. Cameron Harris, our editor, helped me figure out a phonetic guide to the latin. (If it fails anywhere it's very likely my fault.)" [source]

User: "As an avid Emmrich lover & someone trying to write some Emmrich POVs in my Emrook fanfictions, I can not thank you ENOUGH for this wealth of info / music inspo to go off of" // Sylvia: "Thank you! (Seriously though some of those songs probably only make sense to me, they're not all thematically on point, but some are. Hope you enjoy!)" [source]

User: "As another "needs a million hours of droning ambient music to write" writer I appreciate these greatly" // Sylvia: "We both have good taste! 🎶" [source]

User: "Thank you for writing out this list!! Peter Cushing makes so much sense as an influence. I love the variety of media here, it gives me so much new stuff to check out!" // Sylvia: "Thank you for reading! If you do check out some of this stuff, hope you enjoy!" [source]

Sylvia: "thanks so much, and for reading the thread! It was fun to write." [source]

User: "Thank you for sharing these books!I was looking for a good ghost book" // Sylvia: "Thanks! Hope you enjoy James. "Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad" was the first story of his I read and I'll never forget that experience." [source] // Sylvia: "I just love the mood James could create, so much." [source]

User: "ELECTRIC SIX MENTION" // Sylvia: "My greatest favorites, now and forever." [source]

Sylvia: "Please archive away, I am intent on deleting the account eventually but it'd be nice to know people could look this stuff up later if they're curious. (Future generations need to know which Atrium Carceri tracks I listened to!)" [source]

User: "Amongst many things, not the least of which is the gratitude and delight of having your fantastic insight into the writing process of Emmrich, my grandmother’s hazelnut torte is fantastically close to the Nevarran version which was a delightful discovery." // Sylvia: "Ah now nice. I assume she was also central/eastern European then? I suspect it was a popular recipe at a certain time." [source]

User: "As an ex-mortician turned game writer, this was a FASCINATING read!" // Sylvia: "Haha, I definitely took inspiration from morticians! (Thank you for checking it out, that thread got long)" [source]

User: "ATRIUM CARCERI - Such a perfect band for the Mourn Watch!" // Sylvia: "I stumbled on Atrium Carceri when I was a student, and there's happily so much dark ambient available now, but Simon Heath's particular vibe can't be beat." [source]

User: "Rockefeller Street is just like that, man. It's sticky." // Sylvia: "Yes! It's so good, it just hits a certain mood dead center." [source]

Sylvia: "Ginkys of BlueSky has created a Spotify list of the music I listened to when writing Emmrich and the Watchers! Almost everything's on there. Thank you Ginkys. (FYI: Not everything I listened to matches the MW vibe, sometimes it was just a song that got stuck in my head for a few weeks.) - [link]" [source]

User: "I appreciate Replay being on here so muuuuch" // Sylvia: "My favorite song on the album! Though 911 was also real solid." [source]

User: "Love that there's Lady Gaga" // Sylvia: "Friend just sent me Abracadabra, I'm excited for the Gothic Camp here." [source]

Sylvia, about the torte recipe: "If it's useful, here's the full thing in metric. WARNING: Last two times I tried this cooked icing, it failed. I'm not sure whether I miscopy a crucial step, or if changes to local butter were the culprit. Either way, proceed with caution. A ganache is way safer, and very similar." [source]

^ User: "Thank you! That's helpful. I haven't baked many cakes before so I'll do some research about icing/ganache before trying. Hopefully looking at local (Swedish) recipes will give me a hint of what to be careful with." // Sylvia: "Ganache is SUPER simple (you basically heat cream and pour it over chopped chocolate), so I lean even more towards recommending you go with that instead of the cooked icing. Hope you the baking." [source]

[thread source link]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost

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satellite-evans · 1 year ago

Text

Familiar Echoes

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: When Y/N, the daughter of the duke of Ashbourne returns to Aubrey Hall, old feelings resurface between her and Benedict Bridgerton, sparking tension and intrigue. As they navigate past misunderstandings with the support of their families, they must confront their emotions and decide if their childhood bond can evolve into something more.

Word count: 4.7k words

Warnings: fluff, a little angst, mention of nude models, childhood friends, misunderstanding

A/N:

Hi everyone, this is my first Benedict fic so I am very excited, hope you guys will like it :)

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The sun cast a warm, golden glow over Aubrey Hall, its rays filtering through the trees and illuminating the vibrant gardens where the Bridgerton children played. Benedict Bridgerton, with his dark curls and inquisitive eyes, was only ten years old, yet he was already showing signs of the artistic and passionate young man he would become.

In the gardens, Benedict was engrossed in a spirited game of hide-and-seek with his siblings and their dear friends, the Y/L/Ns. The daughter of the Duke of Ashbourne, Y/N, was Benedict’s favorite playmate. Her laughter was his favorite and her eyes mirrored something so beautiful, so pure.

Benedict, you’ll never find me!” Y/N called out, her voice echoing through the hedges.

He grinned, determined to prove his best friend wrong. They had spent countless afternoons exploring the grounds, creating imaginary worlds, and sharing secrets that only they understood.

Finally, he spotted her hiding behind a rosebush. “Got you!” he exclaimed, grabbing her hand and twirling her around.

She laughed, her joy infectious. “You always find me, Benedict.”

He smiled, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “I’ll always find you, Y/N.”

But the idyllic days of childhood were not to last. That evening, over dinner, the Duke of Ashbourne announced that his family would be leaving London for an extended stay in Italy. The news hit Benedict like a blow, and he struggled to hide his disappointment. He looked over at his friend and saw those same pure eyes filling up with tears. It broke his tiny heart into pieces.

“Leave London? Whatever for?”

Benedict was thrilled that his mother asked because he desperately needed to know why they had to leave.

“We have decided it is time to show our children the world. My father took me on similar journeys when I was their age, and those experiences were invaluable. I want Thomas and Y/N to have the same opportunities—to see different places, learn new things, and broaden their horizons.”

Your mother nodded in agreement, her expression resolute. “We believe it will be good for their education. There’s so much to learn beyond the walls of London, and we want to give them a chance to explore and grow in ways they cannot here.”

Violet glanced at the Viscount, her husband Edmund, who had been listening quietly. He smiled and nodded, understanding the importance of such a decision. “I agree with you, William,” he said to your father. “Traveling and experiencing different cultures can provide a wealth of knowledge and perspective that one simply cannot gain from books alone.”

Thomas, your older brother, seemed very excited about the upcoming adventure.

But Y/N did not.

She was thinking all about how terribly she was going to miss her dear friend Benedict and how awful it was going to be, not to be in his presence all the time.

After dinner, Benedict found Y/N in the music room, softly playing the pianoforte. He approached her, his heart heavy.

“Why do you have to go?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N looked up, her eyes filled with sadness. “Father believes it’s for the best. He wants us to experience life. He also mentioned that we will also visit Greece and many more."

“But what about us? What about our adventures?” Benedict’s voice cracked with emotion.

She reached out, taking his hand in hers. “We’ll always have our memories, Benedict. And we’ll see each other again. I promise.”

Benedict squeezed her hand, trying to hold back tears. “Promise?”

“Promise,” she echoed, her voice firm despite the tears in her eyes.

After staying a few more days at Aubrey Hall, the Y/L/N family departed, leaving a void in Benedict’s heart. As their carriage disappeared down the long driveway, he stood beside his father, Edmund Bridgerton, who placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Time will pass quickly, my boy,” Edmund said gently. “And you’ll see her again before you know it.”

Benedict nodded, but the ache in his heart remained. Little did he know, their next meeting would be years away, and the feelings he harbored would only grow stronger with time.

Years had passed since the Y/L/N family’s departure, and Benedict had grown into a handsome and talented young man. He pursued his passion for art with fervor, yet a part of him always yearned for the companionship he had once shared with Y/N.

The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm golden glow over Aubrey Hall, when Lady Violet Bridgerton received the letter. She was seated in the drawing room with her children, each engaged in their own activities. Anthony was reviewing estate documents, Colin was reading a book, Eloise was writing furiously in her notebook, and the younger ones were playing a game by the fireplace.

"Everyone," Lady Violet called, her voice filled with excitement. "I have just received the most wonderful news."

The Bridgerton children looked up, curiosity piqued.

"What is it, Mother?" Anthony asked, setting aside his papers.

Lady Violet grinned. "We are to have guests. The Duke and Duchess of Ashbourne, along with their children, are coming to visit."

A chorus of reactions followed. Eloise raised an eyebrow. "The Ashbournes? Weren't they the family that moved away to travel the world?"

"Yes, indeed," Lady Violet confirmed. "The duke was a dear friend of your father. They moved away years ago, but they have decided to return for a time."

"Does this mean we’ll get to see Thomas again?" Colin asked, a grin spreading across his face. "I always liked him."

"And Y/N," Daphne added, her eyes twinkling. "I remember she was always so talented in the pianoforte and the harp."

Benedict remained silent, a slight blush creeping up his neck. He hoped no one would notice, but of course, Anthony did.

"Well, well, Benedict," Anthony said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "It looks like your childhood crush will be reunited with you," Anthony said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Benedict tried to maintain his composure. "Don't be ridiculous, Anthony. That was ages ago."

Colin chimed in, unable to resist the opportunity to tease his brother. "Oh, come on, Benedict. We all remember how you used to follow her around like a lost puppy."

Eloise snickered. "And how you would turn bright red whenever she spoke to you."

Benedict sighed, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. "I was a child. We’ve all grown up since then."

"Perhaps," Anthony said, leaning back in his chair. "But it will be interesting to see how things play out now that you’re both adults."

Lady Violet intervened, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Enough teasing, boys. Let us make sure everything is ready for their arrival. They will be here in a few days, and I want everything to be perfect."

As the family dispersed to prepare for their guests, the three Bridgerton brothers found themselves alone in the study.

Anthony leaned against the desk, his expression thoughtful. "It will be good to see Thomas again. He was always a good friend."

Colin nodded. "I heard he’s become quite the gentleman. And he was always supportive of Y/N’s education and talents. Not like most men of our time."

"True," Anthony agreed. "Thomas was never one to adhere strictly to societal norms. He always did what he thought was right."

Benedict, who had been quiet, finally spoke up. "I wonder how much Y/N has changed. She was always so passionate about music and poetry."

Colin grinned. "Still thinking about her, eh? You know, Anthony and I used to place bets on when you would finally tell her how you felt."

Benedict rolled his eyes. "You’re never going to let this go, are you?"

Anthony laughed. "Not a chance. But in all seriousness, Benedict, it will be good to see them again. And who knows? Maybe this visit will bring about some unexpected surprises."

Benedict sighed, but a small smile played on his lips. "Maybe."

Y/N stood by her bedroom window, looking out at the rolling hills of their estate as the sun began its slow descent. She was filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension about their imminent departure to Aubrey Hall. The Bridgertons had always held a special place in her heart, especially Benedict, but years and distance had complicated those feelings.

"Are you ready, Y/N?" Thomas's voice called from the hallway.

Y/N turned away from the window and smiled as her brother entered the room. "Almost. Just gathering my thoughts."

Thomas gave her a knowing look. "Excited to see the Bridgertons again?"

"Of course," Y/N replied, smoothing down her dress. "It's been too long."

Thomas leaned against the doorframe, his expression thoughtful. "You know, Anthony mentioned in his letters that Benedict has been quite busy at the Royal Academy. Apparently, the place is famous for its...nude models."

Y/N's hand froze mid-air, her heart skipping a beat. "Nude models?"

Thomas nodded, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Yes, it seems our dear Benedict has been immersing himself in all aspects of art. Anthony said in his letter something about him knocking over an easel while staring at a rather attractive model. Everyone had a good laugh. Quite the scandal, isn't it?"

Y/N's cheeks flushed as she tried to mask her reaction. "It's part of his training, I'm sure. Nothing more."

Thomas watched her carefully, his smirk growing. "You’re right. Still, it's interesting, don’t you think?"

Y/N forced a smile. "What’s your point, Thomas?"

"My point," he said, stepping closer, "is that you seem unusually interested in Benedict’s artistic pursuits."

Y/N met her brother’s gaze firmly. "I’m interested in all my friends' pursuits. Nothing unusual about that."

Thomas chuckled, shaking his head. "Very well. But remember, Y/N, I know you better than anyone. I can tell when something—or someone—is on your mind."

Y/N lifted her chin. "And I can assure you, Thomas, that my mind is perfectly clear."

"Fine, fine," Thomas said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "But if you ever need to talk about anything, you know where to find me."

Y/N nodded, grateful for her brother's support, even if she wasn’t ready to share her feelings. "Thank you, Thomas. Now, let’s focus on the journey ahead."

"Agreed," Thomas said, offering his arm. "Shall we?"

Y/N took his arm, and they made their way downstairs where their parents were waiting. As they stepped outside, she felt excited about the days to come. But also jealousy, which she never felt before in her life. She knew that it was none of her business what Benedict did or did not do. Nevertheless, she could not help herself feeling this way.

The journey to Aubrey Hall was filled with excitement and nostalgia. As their carriage approached the estate, memories of their childhood flooded Y/N’s mind. She felt a mix of eagerness and nervousness, wondering how much had changed. Still, there was a feeling Y/N couldn't shake away. The things that her brother told her about Benedict still haunted her. Benedict changed, she knew that for certain, but she really hoped that his feelings did not.

" It feels so strange to be back again," Thomas said, making Y/N turn to him. "It is like we have never left."

Her father nodded. "I get what you mean. It was like yesterday when you and Benedict were chasing Y/N and Daphne in the garden while Edmund and I were watching with a smile on our faces."

After mentioning the late Viscount, the eyes of your father started to fill with tears. He was in shock when the news came that Edmund passed away. It took him a few months to process the tragic loss of his closest friend. Y/N could not even imagine what Benedict went through.

"We all miss him terribly," your mother said, taking her husband's hand in hers. "But there is no need to sadden ourselves with the past. You will get to see Anthony as the new viscount. I'm sure he fitted the title well."

Your father smiled at his wife and kissed her hand. She always knew how to lift her spirits.

"Just like how Thomas will fit the title of the duke of Ashbourne well." Thomas rolled his eyes while Y/N and her parents started laughing.

"Believe me, father, that it will be years before I will get the title. You will live a long life with mama and your children and grandchildren by your side."

the funny banter between the Ashbourne family was not something new. They always have differed from the rest of the ton. There was no marriage pressure. The duke and duchess put the education of their children first, wanting nothing but happiness for them.

"Look, they have arrived!"

The Ashbourne carriage rolled to a stop in front of Aubrey Hall, the Bridgerton family waiting outside to greet their guests. The air was filled with anticipation and a touch of nostalgia as the two families prepared to reunite after so many years.

Lady Violet stepped forward with a warm smile. "Welcome, welcome!"

The Duke of Ashbourne, a distinguished gentleman with a friendly demeanor, was the first to step out, helping his elegant wife, the Duchess of Ashbourne, out of the carriage. Following them were Thomas and Y/N, who looked around with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"It’s wonderful to see you, Violet," the Duke said, embracing Lady Violet. "Thank you for having us."

"The pleasure is all ours," Lady Violet replied. "We’ve missed you terribly."

As the Ashbournes stepped out of the carriage, the Bridgerton children moved forward to greet them. Anthony, Colin, and Benedict engulfed Thomas in a warm embrace.

"Thomas, it’s been far too long," Anthony said, clapping him on the back.

"Indeed," Thomas replied, smiling. "It’s good to see you all."

Y/N followed, greeting each Bridgerton sibling with a warm smile and a hug, her demeanor friendly and welcoming. However, when she reached Benedict, her expression changed. She gave him a polite nod; her smile barely reaching her eyes.

When Benedict watched her getting out of the carriage, he only had one thought.

She is breathtakingly beautiful.

Her blonde hair changed into a darker shade of brown, but her eyes were the same. They were still mirroring such beauty he wished he could draw. Her smile was still contagious, affecting him immediately with his own.

" Mr Bridgerton, it is good to see you. How have you been?"

Mr Bridgerton? Why was she so formal suddenly? Was she not as excited to see him as he was seeing her?

"Miss Y/L/N, It is great to see you too. I am well, thank you for asking, been quite busy with my paintings."

Y/N’s gaze turned icy. "So I’ve heard." Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked straight inside, leaving Benedict standing there, bewildered.

As Benedict watched her retreating figure, he felt a pang of hurt and confusion. He glanced towards Thomas, who was already looking at him with a knowing look, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Sensing the tension in the air, Thomas was the first to speak. "Well, it is rather chilly out here. Let’s all follow my dear sister inside, shall we?"

The group laughed, the tension easing slightly as they followed Thomas into the grand entrance hall of Aubrey Hall.

As they made their way inside, the tension between Y/N and Benedict did not go unnoticed by the rest of the family. Lady Violet exchanged a concerned glance with the duchess while Anthony observed the interaction with a furrowed brow.

Once inside, they were led to the grand dining room, where a sumptuous feast awaited them. The grand dining room at Aubrey Hall was resplendent with crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow over the elegantly set table.

The Duke of Ashbourne, seated beside Lord Anthony Bridgerton, raised his glass. “To old friends and new beginnings,” he toasted, his voice rich and warm.

The toast was met with a chorus of agreement and the clinking of glasses. As the first course was served, Lady Violet began the conversation. “William, Eleanor, how has your journey been so far? Any memorable adventures?”

Eleanor smiled, glancing at her children. “It’s been a wonderful experience. We’ve seen so many beautiful places, and the children have learned a great deal.”

“Indeed,” the Duke added. “Thomas and Y/N have taken to it splendidly. Y/N, in particular, has been quite inspired by the landscapes for her poetry.”

Lady Violet’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Poetry, Y/N? That’s marvelous. You must share some with us later.”

Y/N smiled politely. “Of course, my lady. I’d be happy to.”

As the conversation flowed, it eventually turned to the Bridgerton siblings. “Benedict,” the Duke said, turning his attention to the second eldest Bridgerton, “I hear you’ve made quite a name for yourself at the Academy.”

Benedict, who had been quietly observing Y/N, nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. I’ve been fortunate to study under some very talented artists.”

Y/N, unable to suppress her irritation, interjected with a cool tone. “Including some very talented models, I’ve heard.”

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Benedict’s cheeks reddened slightly, but he maintained his composure. “Yes, we do work with models. It’s a necessary part of our training.”

The duchess, sensing the awkwardness, tried to steer the conversation back on track. “I’m sure the experience has been invaluable, Benedict. Art requires such dedication.”

Benedict nodded, but his eyes remained on Y/N. “It has been invaluable. Every aspect of it contributes to our growth as artists.”

Thomas, ever the peacemaker, chimed in. “Anthony told us about some of your work. It sounds quite impressive.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a tight smile. “Yes, very impressive. Especially the part where you managed to knock over an easel. Quite the spectacle, I hear.”

Benedict’s jaw tightened, and he glanced around the table, noting the concerned expressions of his family. “It was a mistake. One that was quickly rectified.”

Colin, trying to lighten the mood, laughed. “Well, Benedict has always had a flair for the dramatic.”

Eloise nudged her brother. “Perhaps a bit too much flair, at times.”

Laughter rippled around the table, but the underlying tension remained. Y/N felt a pang of guilt but was too stubborn to relent. She glanced at her brother, who gave her a pointed look, silently urging her to ease up.

Lady Violet, ever the gracious hostess, smoothly transitioned the conversation to more neutral topics, asking about the sights the Ashbourne family had visited and their future plans. The dinner continued, but the strained interactions between Y/N and Benedict cast a shadow over the evening.

As dessert was served, Lady Violet addressed Y/N directly. “Y/N, my dear, I’ve heard you play the pianoforte beautifully. Would you grace us with a performance after dinner?”

Y/N, grateful for the distraction, nodded. “Of course. It would be my pleasure.”

The meal concluded with polite conversation, but the tension lingered. Y/N excused herself to prepare for her performance, and as she left the dining room, she felt Benedict’s gaze on her, filled with a mix of hurt and confusion.

Later that evening, Y/N sat at the grand pianoforte in the drawing room, her fingers dancing gracefully over the keys. Heart filled with the hauntingly beautiful melody of a piece, she knew the room—Benedict's favorite.

The Bridgertons and Y/L/N's watched in silent admiration, but Benedict’s eyes never left Y/N. He was captivated, every note and every word pulling him deeper into the memories of their shared past. As the song drew to a close, Y/N’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and as the last note lingered in the air, a single tear slipped down her cheek. Across the room, Benedict’s own eyes misted over, a tear tracing a path down his face as well. The rest of the family exchanged knowing glances, sensing the intense, unspoken connection between the two.

Y/N stood, curtsied, and, with a polite smile, excused herself from the room, needing a moment alone to compose herself. As she walked down the dimly lit hallway, her heart ached with a mixture of regret and confusion.

Benedict, unable to bear the distance and misunderstanding any longer, quietly followed her into a room. “Y/N, wait,” he called softly.

She stopped but didn’t turn around, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “Yes, Benedict?” Her voice was calm but strained.

He approached her cautiously, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. “Why are you treating me like this? What have I done to deserve your coldness?”

Y/N finally turned to face him, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Benedict. I’ve been perfectly polite.”

Benedict shook his head, frustration evident in his voice. “No, you haven’t. You’ve been distant, cold. This isn’t like you. Please, tell me what’s wrong so that I can fix it."

She crossed her arms defensively, her gaze piercing. “I don’t know what you’re imagining, but there’s nothing wrong. Perhaps you’re just seeing what you want to see.”

His frustration bubbled over, and he stepped closer, his voice low and intense. “This isn’t about what I want to see, Y/N. This is about what’s real. You’ve changed towards me, and I need to know why.”

She took a step back, her breath hitching. “It doesn’t matter, Benedict. Go back to your paintings and models. I could not care less."

His frustration turned to desperation, Benedict reached out and gently but firmly grasped her arm, pulling her back towards him. They stood face to face, the tension between them crackling with electricity. His voice was a murmur, filled with desperate longing. “But you do care, don't you? Why do you care, Y/N? Tell me.”

Her eyes locked onto his, the intensity of his gaze making her heart race. She tried to look away, but he cupped her cheek, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Tell me, Y/N. Please.”

Her defenses crumbled, and she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t care. Why should I? What you do is your own concern.”

His grip on her arm tightened slightly, his breath warm against her skin as he leaned in closer. “You do care. I can see it in your eyes. In your big beautiful eyes. Why won’t you admit it?”

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, trembling with the effort of holding back her emotions. “Because it’s easier not to. Because admitting it means facing the truth.”

“What truth?” Benedict’s voice was a mere breath away, his lips inches from hers.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could no longer deny the truth to herself or to him. “That I never stopped caring about you, Benedict. That I’ve loved you since we were children, and the thought of you with someone else… it breaks my heart.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned in closer, his breath mingling with hers. “And I’ve loved you, Y/N. I’ve loved you every single day we’ve been apart.”

She closed her eyes, the tears finally spilling over. “Then why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I was a fool,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way. But I can’t keep it inside any longer.”

Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. The world seemed to fade away as they poured all their longing and love into that one moment, finally allowing themselves to feel what they had denied for so long.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. “No more secrets,” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky but filled with hope.

“No more secrets,” Benedict promised, his eyes shining with love and determination.

They stood there for a moment, holding each other, the weight of their confessions lifting from their shoulders. The tension that had once filled the air was replaced with a sense of peace and newfound understanding.

Just then, a voice broke the silence. "Well, well, what do we have here?"

Y/N and Benedict sprang apart, startled, as Thomas stepped into the hallway. His expression was serious, his eyes locked on Benedict. Y/N's heart raced, fearing her brother's reaction.

"Thomas, I—" Y/N began, but Thomas held up a hand to silence her.

"I always knew I’d have to deal with this day," Thomas said, his voice low and dangerous. He turned his gaze to Benedict, who stood his ground, though a hint of apprehension flickered in his eyes. "Benedict Bridgerton, you have compromised my sister's honor. There’s only one way to settle this."

Y/N’s eyes widened in fear. "Thomas, please, don’t—"

Thomas continued, a stern look on his face. "We must duel."

The hallway fell silent, the tension thick in the air. Then, to Y/N's utter astonishment, Thomas’s serious expression broke into a wide grin, and he burst out laughing.

"I’m just kidding!" he exclaimed, clapping Benedict on the shoulder. "You should have seen your faces!"

Benedict let out a relieved laugh, shaking his head. "Thomas, you nearly gave us both a heart attack."

Y/N exhaled deeply, her heart still pounding. "Thomas, that wasn’t funny!"

"It was a little funny," Thomas said, still chuckling. "But really, everyone in the drawing room is waiting for you two. They’ve been hoping for this day for a long time."

Y/N and Benedict exchanged a glance, their relief mingled with the lingering rush of adrenaline.

Thomas gestured back towards the drawing room. "Come on, let’s not keep them waiting."

As they re-entered the room, the gathered family turned to look at them. Lady Violet and the duchess’s faces lit up with delight, and Daphne’s eyes sparkled with joy. The Duke of Ashbourne stood beside Lady Eleanor, his expression warm and approving. Anthony, Colin, Eloise, Gregory, and Hyacinth were also present, each showing various degrees of amusement and happiness.

"There you are!" Lady Violet said, her smile warm and knowing. "We were starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost."

"Come on," Colin said, grinning broadly. "Don't keep us waiting. Are you finally together or not?"

Y/N's cheeks flushed as she glanced at Benedict, who nodded, smiling. "Yes, we are," she said, her voice clear and steady.

Lady Eleanor’s face lit up even more. "Well, then, I think it’s safe to say we can start planning a wedding."

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. "Mama, it’s way too soon for that!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing even deeper.

The Duke of Ashbourne chuckled, patting Y/N's shoulder gently. "Your mother is just excited, dear. But we should let the young couple take their time."

Colin and Anthony, standing near the fireplace, exchanged a look and grinned. "Well, Benedict, looks like you’ve finally caught the eye of a Duke’s daughter," Colin teased.

"Always aiming high, aren’t you, brother?" Anthony added, his tone playful.

Benedict, his arm still around Y/N, beamed. "I guess I’ve always known what I wanted."

Daphne approached Y/N, embracing her warmly. "Welcome to the family, officially."

Y/N’s heart swelled with happiness. "Thank you, Daphne. I’m so glad to be here."

Eloise, ever the sharp-witted observer, smirked. "Well, it’s about time. I was beginning to think you two would never figure it out."

Gregory and Hyacinth, the youngest Bridgerton's, clapped excitedly. "Does this mean we get to have another party?" Gregory asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Hyacinth grinned. "I hope so! I love weddings!"

As the evening continued, the family celebrated the long-awaited union. Lady Violet and Lady Eleanor eagerly discussed wedding plans, while the Bridgerton brothers teased Benedict good-naturedly.

Thomas, watching the scene with a satisfied smile, caught Y/N’s eye and gave her an encouraging nod. She smiled back, her heart full.

Later, as the festivities wound down, Y/N and Benedict found a quiet moment together. He took her hand, his eyes full of love. "I meant every word I said earlier, Y/N. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

She looked up at him, her heart brimming with emotion. "And I love you, Benedict. More than I can say."

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. "Let's always be together. Always."

"Agreed," she whispered, feeling the weight of the past lift away.

As they stood there, surrounded by family and love, Y/N knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful future together.

#benedict bridgerton #fluff #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton fluff #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton s3 #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #bridgerton x reader

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tac-the-unseen · 1 year ago

Text

Gifts the slashers would enjoy

Fluff

Minor updates for formatting

Micheal Myers:

•Arts and crafts supplies

-He's enjoyed making Paper Mache masks most of his life. It's very likely that he enjoys other forms of art as well, but couldn't express that in the ward for fear it would be taken away.

-Dr. Loomis sucks

-Giving him art supplies now, would end up in him making his art in secret. He feels embarrassed to like such a simple thing. That shame is intensified if you ask to see it. He'll end up leaving it out so you can see it without directly showing it to you

•Candy Corn, circus peanuts, and Crunch bar.

-Are they his favorite? No. But they bring back good memories, and for Michael, that's enough.

-would spend a good chunk of time snaking on the sweets while you spend time with him

-Can be bribed into a lot of shenanigans with candy

•Homemade meal

-He rarely had anyone make him dinner. His mom being a ‘working’ woman ment that he had to fend for himself come dinnertime.

-Knowing that you wanted to, and found time to make him dinner make him feel that icky (Nice), bubbly feeling in the center of his chest

-minor Headcannon: first time this happened Micheal thought he was having a heart attack.

Billy loomis & Stu macher:

•Horror movie merchandise

-They're collectors. If you manage to get your hands on something they don't have, they'll give you anything you want in return.

-will trip over themselves trying to replay you

-Stu would actually kiss the ground you walk on if you ask

•Jewelry

-They both appreciate necklaces, bracelets, and RINGS

-Stu is a gold guy, Billy is a sliver guy.

-They’re like crows. Anything shiny will end up in their pockets. Imagine Stu showing off his rings like a newly proposed to woman. Fawning over the design and/or jewels.

•knives/knife sharpener

-They collect knives of different quality and look

-the better ones they use to hunt. The best ones and the weaker ones are put on display like trophies.

-No matter the quality you get, it's the fact it came from you but they care about

Thomas Hewitt:

•Flowers

-Thomas is a sucker for old ‘traditional’ romantic actions

-Seeing you hold up hand-picked flowers makes his heart gush. He thinks you look so precious, wanting to make him happy.

-sometimes he'll catch you, out of a window, picking flowers just so you can give it to him. He'll never tell you, and will always act surprised when you present the bouquet.

•Bones

-its simple and an abundant resource at the house. There's always bones somewhere, and Thomas knows how to use the bones

-They’re good for making repairs, as tools, and as decorations

-You 10000% have a bone bracelet that Thomas made for you when you guys started to get more serious

•Desserts

-Thomas won't admit it, but he has a sweet tooth. Why do you think Luda mae spends so much time baking?

-While a good pie is enough to send this man to his knees, any other baked good will do.

-He likes cherries and strawberries, but because of how expensive they are he doesn't tell anybody that it's his favorite. He doesn't want anybody ‘wasting’ money or resources on him.

Bubba Sawyer:

•Flowers

-Bubba loves flowers. Any kind of flowers is enough for him to let out squeals of happiness. He loves seeing them around the farm, and plants them around the house when he has spare time.

-So when you go to town and come back with a bouquet of flowers just for him, nearly crushed you with hugs.

-Keeps them alive for as long as possible then perseveres them in notebooks and in salt

•Quilting supplies

-Bubba is really good at handling leather. Those human skin masks are hard to make, and human leather is so incredibly delicate.

-On top of that, he is a family man. He want to make things that help his family. So he makes blankets!

-its a fine craft and perfect in enhancing his skills.

•Good old quality time

-He loves spending his time with you! If he could spend all day with you, he would.

-So sitting down and cuddling means that absolute world to him. He cherishes his time with you and it what he looks forward to everyday. It's why he wakes up in the morning. It's why he tries hard everyday. He wants to spend every day starting and ending with you!

Bo Sinclair:

•Tools

-If your in the workshop often enough, you'll know what ends replacing.

-Bo is as stubborn as stubborn comes, so he won't get new tools until they physically can't do their job anymore.

-If you get him new tools he will begrudgingly take them, but after an hour or two he'll find you just so he can thank you ‘properly’.

•Cigarettes

-The boy smokes

-Don’t know what else to tell you

-Will kiss you when you give it to him though

•Kids Toys

-Sounds weird, but having his childhood taken away from him leaves him wanting to fill up the gaps.

-when looking through a victim's car you found a two handed water ring-toss toy. when you showed Bo He just rolled his eyes and kept working on his Truck. You started playing with it when at the shop, even leaving it there on a few occasions. Every time you left it there, He would take it and sneak into the back room of the shop to play with it.

-it brought him immense joy. One day he forgot to put it back, and when you asked about it he berated you for losing your things and expecting him to keep track of your belongings. He never told you, and would rather die than admit it.

Vincent Sinclair:

•Art/craft supplies

-Its a given, really

-He very rarely get new art supplies (if you don't count corpses) so it’s nice to get replacements.

-Will take anything you give him, honestly

•Books

-Vincent isn't always making art. Sometimes art can get boring for him, or he hits a rough patch and doesn't know where to go from there.

-A book can easily help, Whether it's just something else to do or it helps him overcome his art block. He will oftentimes get up from his work space and find another spot to sit down and read.

-He loves it when you read to him. It's nice to just listen to something while you work.

•Hoodies

-with his combination of body issues and wanting to be cozy, A hoodie seems to be the best option.

-Even though it is hot in Louisiana, The cool basement and even cooler nights need a little warmth.

-loves the feeling of the softer cloth and with it being a present, makes it all the better.

Lester Sinclair:

•Lip balm

-Lester has a hard time with hygiene. No one ever really taught him how to take care of himself.

-So when you notice Lester had chapped lips and gave him some lip balm something in his brain short circuited. The fact that YOU want to help him, makes his heart swell.

-keeps it in his pocket and constantly reapplies it

•Car freshener

-Even with him blind to the smell of death, the hot Louisiana sun will intensify the foul smell 10 fold. You knew it was bad when you could smell the truck before you could see or hear it.

-You ran out of town and bought several packs of air fresheners for his truck. You told him that you do love him, just not the smell that lingers when he gets home from work. Lester doesn't want to make you gag every time he gets into bed with you.

-He likes the Strawberry, sugar cookie, and fresh linens scent best

•Dinner

-He’s not the ‘I better come home to a hot plate of dinner' kind of guy, but he really appreciates it when he does. Even though Bo is a semi-good cook, anything after years of having it will get boring.

-Having you cook for him (and most likely his brothers) is a nice change of pace.

-Will eat anything you cook. Whether it's ‘good’ or ‘bad’ he will happily eat it all.

Billy Lenz:

•Being read too

-Isn’t a physical present but he loves your voice. He wants to read but has A) a hard time focusing and B) has a hard time reading in general

-Having you read to him calms him down and gets him settled enough to sit still and/or do an activity smoothly

-Reading to him 100% makes him fall asleep in the end. And boy does this insomniac need it

•Crochet equipment

-After learning how to Crochet he can't stop. He runs through String like a mad man. He has made you 6 sweaters and increasing in quality over time

-Will give you a list of all the colors he wants and will wait patiently on your bed for you to come back.

-Gets ridiculous excited when he's given new supplies. Will be your lap dog for weeks after

•String lights

-Doesn't have to be Christmas themed, he just really likes the lights. Like a moth drawn to flames.

-likes to fall asleep with them on, it's like Billy’s own big night light.

-Has gotten too close to them and accidentally ripped them down. He tried to hide them so he didn't get in trouble, and actually cried when you found out.

Brahms Heelshire:

•Clothes

-You wondered why his clothes were so ill-fitting for a long time before you realized, that's his dad's old clothes.

-coming to that realization you manage to figure out his proper size and (after some minor fighting) when out to get him a much needed upgrade. When you came home he was waiting by the door, waiting for you. Giving him his new clothes was like telling him you would never leave again, he was ecstatic. He ripped the bags out of your arms and ran into his room so he could try them on

-He fell in love with the sweaters you got him, with a nice couple pairs of khakis. It wasn't much of a transition from his old clothes but that's just what he likes.

•Movies/Movie night

-The only movies he's seen are from his childhood, and he can barely remember them. His parents didn't think movies were healthy for a growing boy, so they only allowed him books to pass the time

-When you proposed a movie night he had a couple questions and even a bit of hesitation. “What if they melt my brain?” He asked with genuine concern. After you posed another question back “Why wouldn't they have melted my brain yet?” Did he trust you.

-You started with childhood classics before getting into the more ‘adult’ stuff. He loved every minute of it

•Picnics

-While Brahms isn't a fan of going outside, the garden is the only exception. You wanted him to go outside because orange juice can only do so much for a vitamin D deficiency.

-He said the only way he would go outside was if you had a Picnic and put his sunscreen on. Making sandwiches with chips and then lathering him in 80 SPF he went outside in a tank top layered with a crocheted vest and shorts, had him outside fairly quickly

-Now he wants a picnic every summer

Hannibal Lecter:

•Wine

-After dating for a while you started to notice where Hannibal got his expensive foods and wines

-you also noticed what he actually liked and what he was just experimenting with. While fruity and floral flavors were always favored, herbs and Nutty wines were much lower on his list.

-With that in mind you got a Cherry lavender wine from Greece. When you gave it to him he was actually shocked you were paying attention to his preferences. He told you most people just buy cheap wine and expect him not to notice.

-The wine you picked out now has a permit spot saved on his wine shelf.

•Paper bouquet

-Paper made into the shape of different flowers all wrapped up in another paper tying it all together. It's cute, classy (though he would never display it openly), and will never wilt!

-He had told you about the complexity of life using flowers as an example and how they wilt. So you decided to make flowers that can't wilt to not only sass him but to give him something

-He put them in a paper vase he made (in only what you can assume was) in his free time.

•Friendship bracelets

-What was originally a gag gift turned out to be one of his favorite gifts.

-You thought there was no way in hell THE Hannibal Lecter would wear cheap bright string woven together, but you were wrong.

-You had made some friendship bracelets out of old string you found in some old stuffed away box and laughed at the idea of Hannibal finding it in his desk drawer. So you did just that, just to come to the shocking realization that during a meeting with the F.B.I he was wearing it, hidden under his sleeve. You had a very hard time containing your laughter that night.

Will Graham:

•Quality time with you!

-Life has always been stressful for Will. So some alone time with you is always a great gift.

-No need for fancy dinners, events, or holidays. Just sitting down to watch whatever pops up on the T.V screen is enough for him.

-Bonus points if the pack joins in for a cuddle session!

•Handwritten letter(s)

-Having a man with a different then most emotional attachment style is hard. Will might not always what to be physically touched or poked at. Sometimes he doesn't even want to talk (Common coping mechanism for Autistic people)!

-But even when he gets like this, it's still nice to get some reassurance. You started writing him little notes around the house a while ago and slowly you noticed Will’s mood improving significantly.

-He found it very sweet that you were taking the time to meet him on a level he was comfortable with. The two of you don't speak about it often but the notes persist.

•New fishing gear

-anything fishing related is always an appreciated

-New lears, poles, vests, hooks, bait even. Anything even if he already has it, he will take it happily

-He’ll take you fishing with his new gear you got him and will happily teach you if you don't know how to fish

The Lost Boys:

•Jewelry

-All four vamps love jewelry of any kind

-All of them have earrings, bracelets, and necklaces so why not give them Something they can say they got from their S/O!

-David and Marko prefer bracelets, David’s gloves wouldn't mesh well with rings, and he thinks a necklace might make him seem less intimidating. Marko would chew on a necklace and worse could get caught during a fight. Rings would be damaged either due to said fighting and/or his painting. Bracelets are that perfect in-between!

-Dwayne and Paul like Rings for different reasons. For Dwayne Rings have that ‘marriage’ aspect to them. Not to say rings mean marriage, but historically speaking…it's like putting your claim on him and he's thriving for that.

-Paul likes rings to fidget with. He already has rings he uses as ways to occupy his hands when something or someone isn't. Will 100% show off his ring you gave him to the others.

•Gift boxes

-The boxes full of pictures, candy, and other meaningful things

-They all go feral over those boxes, especially the first ever box. It was filled with your own little doodles, candy you know they like, mini bottles of whiskey, and a note telling them about how much you care about them and where to meet you for the night.

-if you plan to do this more often make sure each boy gets to keep something or they WILL fight over it.

•ScrapBooks

-Memories bunch up and fade when you're a vampire. They can't always remember the little things, so having a book of all those memories they can look back at is great idea!

-You even found a creative way to include them in pictures! They can't be seen in photos, but they're shadows can! You take pictures under street lamps and make silly poses. You have a picture of Paul dramatically falling into Marko's arms while Dwayne and David kiss either side of your face.

-All those silly pictures combined with your and Marko’s creativity ends up in some fun, colorful, memories

Thanks for reading <3

(You know I write a fuck ton when It started glitching out. Like it would freeze while I was formatting it correctly 😭)

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queenshelby · 1 year ago

Text

Sweet Possession (Part 7)

Pairing: Very Dark! Thomas Shelby (32) x Innocent! Reader (19)

Warning: Age Gap, Smut

When you returned to Arrow House unwillingly, the mansion that was once a symbol of love and safety never felt so cold and lonely. Thomas' eyes, cold as ever, drilled into yours as he greeted you with a deep look without uttering a word. He didn't have to. His message was loud and clear: he always had the upper hand.

You tried to suppress the shiver running down your spine as you glimpsed at the stern expression on his face, realizing that your hope for escape had been nothing more than a fleeting dream. The weight of your current situation bore down on you heavily, forcing reality to settle in.

"Come inside and have something to eat. You must be hungry, Love," he then said , making an attempt to act on his usually endearing nature. Even after all that had transpired, his voice carried a warmness that somehow made you forget about the contents in the lockbox, if only for a moment.

But you knew better. You knew that beneath the facade of charm and wit lay a man whose intentions were far from romantic or kind.

"I am not hungry ," you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Thomas frowned at your response as he lead you inside and helped you to take off your coat before handing it to one of the maids, which is also when you noticed several more men inside the house : some familiar, others not so much.

"Suit yourself ," Thomas said as he escorted you to the dining room, leaving your words to hang in the air. His sudden shift in demeanor was enough to make you feel uneasy and confused. You made a mental note to keep your guard up and be careful about what you shared with him.

"I am sorry," you stammered nervously as he pulled out a chair for you at the dining table while the men who were in the house earlier scurried away as your husband and you sat down to eat, giving you a feeling of being constantly watched.

"For what, exactly, are you sorry for, Love?" Thomas asked as he sat down opposite you, the distance between you and him feeling wider than ever before. You swallowed hard, desperately trying to find the right words to explain.

"For leaving, of course," you said after a moment of silence, your voice shaky. "I shouldn't have done it without telling you first."

Thomas regarded you for a long moment, his face unreadable.

"It's in the past now Y/N and I trust that you won't leave like this again, eh?" Thomas said, his voice low and gravelly as he leaned forward, his intense blue eyes locked onto yours.

You couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine at the menacing tone in his voice. But you knew better than to argue with him, especially after what had been revealed to you in the past two days. Thomas Shelby was not a man to be trifled with and you knew that you would have to tread lightly if you wanted to stay on his good side.

"Of course not, Thomas. I promise," you murmured quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Good ," Thomas replied, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I'm glad we understand each other."

But despite his seemingly kind words, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in your chest. You knew that Thomas was capable of anything, and you couldn't help but wonder if this whole situation was just another one of his twisted games.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur as you forced yourself to eat and make small talk with Thomas. Your mind was racing, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.

You felt like you were living in a nightmare, unable to wake up and escape the twisted reality that had become your life.

Thomas Shelby, the man you loved and trusted, had turned out to be someone entirely different from who you thought he was. He was manipulative, controlling, and dangerous.

"I am really exhausted Tommy, I might just head to bed," you muttered softly after a few hours of having forced yourself to keep him company. As you looked up at Thomas, your voice was trembling slightly, and you tried to hide the fear that was steadily building up inside of you.

Thomas's eyes softened as he looked back at you and for a moment, he seemed almost human.

"Alright Love. I will join you shortly, eh," he said, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You forced a similarly weak smile and nodded as you stood up from your chair, excusing yourself and making your way up the grand staircase to the sleeping quarters.

Once inside your bedroom, you hastily closed the door behind you, feeling a small sense of relief wash over you. You took a deep breath, leaning against the heavy wooden door, trying to calm your beating heart.

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you held them back, not wanting to give in to the fear and sadness that had taken over your heart.

With a shiver, you walked to the large mirror in your room, studying your reflection. Your long hair was disheveled from the long train ride and your big eyes looked tired and anxious.

You dreaded the moment at which your husband would join you tonight, just like every other night, knowing that his needs had to be satisfied.

Saying no to him now after what you did was not something you could afford , even though the thought of him touching you made your skin crawl. You couldn't help but feel a sense of disgust towards yourself, for allowing things to go this far.

You had always enjoyed the intimacy between you, feeling attracted to him, but now it had become something else entirely. It was as if you were living with a stranger, someone who held all the power and control over you and you hated the thought of him seeking to be intimate with you.

Eventually, after contemplating your options for a while on how to get out of sleeping with your husband, you went to bed, realizing that you had none. You lay there, stiff as a board, your mind racing with thoughts of escape and freedom that seemed like impossibilities now.

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable and, soon enough, the door opened with a creak. Thomas stepped inside quietly as you pretended to be asleep, wondering if your charade would be successful. You heard his footsteps as he moved closer and closer to the bed before stopping short next to you, a sigh escaping his lips.

You could feel him strip down to his clothes, the bed shifting slightly under his weight as he climbed in beside you without making any attempt to initiate anything.

Minutes passed and still, you felt nothing but cold sheets and an even colder presence beside you but, just as you thought that you could actually go to sleep, your breath hitched as a hand slid across your waist, tracing the curve of your hip before settling on your thigh.

Tommy moved closer towards you and his touch sent a shiver down your spine, causing you to freeze.

As if sensing your distress, he whispered in your ear, "I know you are awake, Love . Let's not play games, eh?" he told, his hand sneaking up to slide under your nightgown, gently caressing your smooth skin. You could feel him harden against your backside, his desire for you palpable. As much as the thought of being close to him made you uncomfortable now, you knew better than to protest.

Your mind raced, searching for a way to escape this situation, but all your thoughts were pushed aside as his hand moved beneath your panties.

"Relax, Love. You're so tense," he murmured in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. You could feel his body press up against yours, his erection now obvious. "I won't hurt you, eh? I would never fucking hurt you," Tommy told you as he circled over your clit.

Feeling helpless and defeated, you let out a sigh and allowed your body to soften slightly. You didn't want to admit it, but his touch did sent a shiver of pleasure through you, and you couldn't help but moan as, without warning, he slipped a finger inside of you.

"That's it , Love," he whispered in your ear, his hips rocking against your ass as he began to move his finger in and out of you at a steady pace before wasting no more time and withdrawing it from your slick folds.

You laid there quietly, trying not to make a noise as he pushed down your panties, completely exposing you. You felt vulnerable and exposed. His hand came down to squeeze your ass roughly, before moving to your pussy once more, parting your lips with his fingers and rubbing your clit in slow circles.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned as he continued to stroke your clit. Despite the fact that you were still uncomfortable with the situation, it was impossible to deny the pleasure building inside of you.

Soon you felt the head of his cock brush against your entrance and then he slowly pushed inside of you, filling you up completely.

Tommy let out a deep moan as he buried himself to the hilt within you, pausing for a moment before pulling out almost completely and then thrusting back in with more force, making you gasp as he did so.

He continued to fuck you roughly, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful stroke, his breath hot and heavy against your shoulder blade as he leaned in close.

"Fuck, you feel so good, Y/N," Thomas murmured in your ear as he continued to pound into you from behind. His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you back onto his cock with each thrust.

You stifled a moan, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good it felt. But as he sped up, you couldn't help but let out a small cry of pleasure.

"That's it, Love," Thomas groaned, "You are mine. My fucking property." Thomas's voice was ragged and deep, sending shivers down your spine as he thrust into you from behind.

"Say it!" he demanded gruffly, his fingers digging into your hips as he continued to thrust into you with a relentless pace. "Say you're mine!"

His command was met with a soft whimper, your mind reeling from the force of pleasure coursing through your body. You tried to resist, but it was no use - Thomas had you pinned down and at his mercy.

"I'm yours!" you cried out, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them as you came, hard and fast, crying out loudly in pleasure.

Thomas let out a low growl of satisfaction as you finally conceded to his demands.

"That's right, Love. You are mine," he said, his voice dripping with lust as he continued to piston in and out of you. His fingers gripped your hips tighter, pulling you back onto his cock with every punishing thrust until, suddenly, and unexpectedly, he stilled, groaning loudly.

"No, stop," you gasped as you tried to wiggle away from him, realizing what was happening, but it was too late . He was already filling you up with his release, his movements slowing as he rode out the waves of pleasure coursing through him.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hot breath panting against your neck and his seed pouring into you as he filled you up to the brim.

Your body was still spasming from your own orgasm, responding to his touch even though your mind was screaming in protest. You couldn't help but think about how much you wanted to push him away and wipe him off of you, but your muscles were still trembling from the force of your release.

As Thomas slowly pulled out of you, you turned over onto your back and looked up at him with a mixture of anger and disgust.

"You came inside me," you spat out, wiping his essence away from your thigh as if it was of any use now.

"I did," he replied nonchalantly, a sly smirk playing on his lips. "Because you are my fucking wife after all," he added as he leaned down, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. You couldn't help but recoil at his touch, the thought of his seed now inside of you making your skin crawl.

He knew that you were not ready to become a mother , but it seemed like he didn't care. You wanted to shout at him, to scream and hit him for his actions, but you held back and simply turned around , climbing out of the bed with a grimace.

You hurried to the bathroom, needing a moment to gather yourself together and trying to wash away the lingering feelings of disgust you felt towards Thomas and his actions - but more importantly, towards yourself for allowing it to happen again and again.

As you stared at your reflection in the mirror, tears started running down your cheeks again, but this time, they were not from fear or despair- they were angry tears. Angry at the situation you had been placed into, angry at yourself for being too weak to stand up against it. Angry tears for the fact that, despite all of this, you somehow craved him.

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dyns33 · 2 months ago

Text

Favorite fruit

I had my Tangarine phase in my corner, and now I'm sharing one of the little things I wrote about this fool and his nice twin. I have so maye Taylor Aaron Johnson things waiting, it's almost indecent.

"She's here, mate."

"Shut up."

"Breathe. Don't make a fool of yourself. Just order a coffee, cool. It's not like you're proposing to her. You wouldn't have the balls anyway."

"Lemon, shut up."

Tangerine didn't try to contradict his brother about being nervous, or that he wasn't at all interested in their pretty waitress, Y/N, whom they went to as soon as they got home from a mission for a well-deserved drink.

It was like a ritual, a sign that they were done with their work. The comfort of a nice hot coffee and the smile of the most beautiful woman in the world.

Okay, Tangerine didn't say the last part out loud, to keep his twin from getting any stupid ideas, but it clearly didn't help.

For some, it might have been weird to celebrate an achievement with just a coffee. But alcohol—beer, whiskey, champagne—was for when the mission had been really tough and they needed to come back down. And, like good Englishmen, it was tea if it went badly. The rest of the time, coffee. With Y/N as a bonus.

"Hi, boys !" said the waitress as she approached their table. "You're okay ? Same as usual ?"

"I don't know. Tang, same as usual ? Or are you finally going to decide to…"

"Thanks luv." replied Tangerine, crushing his brother's foot under the table. "We're fine, and yes, two espressos."

"I'll bring them right away !"

He continued to smile at her until she disappeared behind the counter, turning back to Lemon, staring at him intensely. For his part, his brother wore his eternally impassive and tired expression.

Someone once said that insanity was doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result. Even though he loved that supposedly peaceful post-mission moment, the twins had been having the same conversation over and over again for months.

"You have to tell her."

"You… Really, man… I don't know how to tell you anymore. Stop it."

"You love her, bro. You're completely crazy about this girl. I like her too. She's a Thomas. I can only agree that you love a Thomas, you'll be very happy with her."

"You have to listen to me. Stop with Thomas the Tank Engine or I'll seriously put a bullet in your head. And stop with Y/N. She's nice, yeah. But that's not love, okay ? You're imagining things."

"Yeah, yeah. You jump up and down with excitement as soon as you know we're coming here, you're a polite sweetheart with her, and this is the only cafe you haven't stolen anything from yet. We also need to talk about your habit of stealing things, by the way, but that's a problem for later."

Maybe Lemon wasn't imagining things.

Relationships with others, of all kinds, had always been a complicated subject for Tangerine. Aside from his brother, he'd never really been close to anyone. Something to do with his personality, no doubt, trust issues.

Their line of work didn't help either. He had absolutely no time for meeting people, going on dates, all that romantic stuff. Not to mention the fact that it was very dangerous.

He sometimes imagined his life if he were lucky enough to be with Y/N. The coffee ritual would just be what happened before he came home, where she would welcome him tenderly, taking him in her arms and making him forget everything else.

But these dreams often turned into nightmares, in which she ended up a widow, or worse, he would cry over her lifeless body, his hands covered in her blood.

Someone else had said something like if you love them, let them go. If Tangerine loved Y/N, he should be content with seeing her when he ordered his coffee after a mission. At least she was safe.

"You're depressing me," Lemon sighed, shaking his head. "There are lots of contractors with families, partners, and children. No one knows our names or addresses. I don't like leaving you alone in your empty little apartment."

"It's not empty, it's tidy and unadorned."

"Empty, and sad. Just one date at least. Ask for her number."

The other thing that scared Tangerine, even though he refused to admit it even less because he wasn't afraid of anything, was the very strong possibility of rejection. He was handsome, he knew it. He was capable of being charming and funny, not too stupid despite what his twin might say, and he had seduced many women.

But this wasn't just any woman. This was Y/N, who smelled good, who looked at him like he was someone, who remembered his real name and everything he had said to her during his last visit. He felt special when he was around her. Lucky.

He wouldn't be so surprised if she didn't want him after all. She could do better, and it was even more true if you counted his activities.

Because if she agreed to a date, if they ended up together, he'd have to tell her at some point that he was a hitman. He was good at lying, but to his wife, that wasn't a good idea. A very bad basis for a relationship.

She'd want to know where he was, with whom, why he was gone so often. If she accepted the situation, she'd be worried all the time. Tangerine didn't want his sweet Y/N to be worried all the time.

But it was more likely that she didn't like his job very much, that she was scared or disgusted by what he was. He really didn't want Y/N to hate him.

"And here are two espressos for my favorite 'twins'." she crooned, setting the cups in front of them. "Nothing else, sure ?"

"My brother wants something. Which one of us is… Ah ! Stop stepping on my foot !"

"When you stop talking nonsense ! Sorry, luv, it's perfect, as always."

"Really ? Okay. I'm just here if you need anything."

"Coward." Citron muttered.

"Fucker."

They still managed to enjoy their coffees, with another topic of conversation, for at least ten minutes, before Lemon found a way to bring up Thomas and the next mission.

To avoid getting an ulcer, Tangerine finished his cup as quickly as possible so he could get up, pay, and go home where he would collapse in his empty sad bed.

Still with her beautiful smile, Y/N gave him their payment receipt and wished him a good day. A receipt he then gave to his brother, who insisted on recording all their expenses.

"Dude."

"Lemon, I promise you with everything I hold dear, if you ever talk about trains, missions, or my so-called feelings again, I'll…"

"She wrote her number on the ticket. Look. With your name. With your fucking name ! You're her favorite. Damn, I'm the nicer one of the two of us."

He could have argued that he didn't agree, even though most of the people they encountered also claimed that his twin was the nicer one. However, it didn't matter at that moment, as he picked up the ticket to admire the list of numbers Y/N had written down for him. All the problems were still there. His job, the secrets, the danger.

He was forced to order his brother to shut up again when he pulled out his phone to save the number. A date. It couldn't hurt, a little date. And then they'd see.

"I can't wait to plan your wedding, man. I have tons of ideas for your bachelor party, I'm going to be the best man ever."

"I'm out of here. I'll call you about the next job. Maybe, if I don't decide to kill you first."

"Your kids will be beautiful ! Sleep tight, brother !"

For once in a very long time, Tangerine dreamed of Y/N without it ending in a nightmare. He sent her a message the very next day.

#bullet train #tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine imagine #tangerine fanfiction #i love the Twins #it's a wonder to write them together

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mingis-orangejuice · 11 months ago

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Asking the L&Ds boys "What are we?" Part 3: Rafayel

Summary: MC and her boy have been in a sort of situation-ship but MC wants to know why they haven't officially called her their girlfriend

a/n: This ended up being much longer than I thought so I'm making it into 4 parts (one for each boy) Here's Rafayel's part. I'm still writing Sylus' part, so it might take a little longer to come out

Genres/Warnings: angst, fluff, kinda slow burn, a little suggestive

Word count: 1114

Other parts: 1, 2, 4

Under the dazzling lights of an enormous banquet hall, you stand alone awkwardly looking at your phone. It was another one of Rafayel’s art shows. While you love to support him and his art, after going to about 4 different events in one week it gets old. Thomas was really running Rafayel rampant these past few weeks to get him to sell as much as possible before he goes off on one of his random solo trips. And even tho Rafayel hates these types of events he knew it would be good for his image and his wallet (not that he needs it)

Why did Rafayel have to leave you by yourself? You hated going to big fancy events the only plus side of coming to these was getting to spend time with your boyfriend… wait was he your boyfriend? You guys never actually had that conversation but he gets pretty boyfriend-y when you guys are alone he calls you every night before bed to tell you goodnight, takes you on expensive overnight trips and gets all pouty if you don’t stay the night, but he also still calls you Miss bodyguard but sometimes calls you his muse. What does that even mean? Was he just playing with you or was there something more?

You were thinking so hard about this that your facial expression looked pretty intense. You didn't even notice that most people at the event were actively avoiding you since you looked like you were ready to explode.

“Hey babe,” a voice from behind you snapped you out of your deep thought. Your expression changed to one of confusion and disgust at the random man who felt that it was ok to call you babe “Are you here alone? I can show you around. I know everything about these art pieces.”

You looked at him, now with a blank expression “Really?” you questioned sarcasm heavily coating your voice. Where is Rafayel? Why is he taking so long to come back? Thomas said he’d only be gone for a few minutes, but it's been over half an hour and now some creep is trying to talk to you.

“Yeah, I'm close personal friends with the artist, I’m actually his inspiration for most of his work, I’m basically an artist too he should be giving me half the profits from these since I’m such an integral part of his work, but I let him keep all of it since we’re such good friends” He steps closer to you as he spouts his nonsense. You, looking rightfully annoyed with him step back but this guy doesn’t get the hint and keeps stepping closer “What d’ you say, babe? Wanna spend the rest of the night with a real artist? He continues to advance towards you while you step back even further, in your mission to get away from this creep you didn't notice one of the wires running along the floor that connected to one of the lights illuminating an art piece. You tripped backwards. Luckily a firm pair of arms was there to catch you before you hit the floor.

You look up to see who your saviour is. And to your surprise, it was none other than Rafayel. “For a bodyguard, you’re very clumsy” he chucked while steadying you.

“It’s not my fault,” you say preparing to defend yourself.

“I know, it was his” Rafayel points to the creep that had been pursuing you. “What do you think you’re doing pestering MY muse? She clearly doesn't like you can’t you take a hint or is that head of yours just full of fish tank pebbles”

“Just who do you think you are, if you hadn’t come in and ruined everything she woulda gone home with me” The creep angrily stepped towards you and Rafayel. He looks towards you trying to grab your wrist “Babe tell this guy to fuck off so we can get back to our conversation alright.”

Rafayel quickly swats his hand away “Why would she go home with a loser who pretends to be an artist just to get in her pants, when she can have this real artist who gets to be in her pants every night?” Rafayel says with a shit-eating grin.

“Raf!” You lightly slap his chest a little amused and a bit embarrassed that he would say something like that out loud.

“Yeah, whatever she’s ugly anyway” The creep tries to leave, but Rafayel signals to some of the staff to grab that guy and remove him from the event. As the staff are holding the creep by the arms Rafayel brings his face close to his. “You’re lucky I’m only having them throw you out of the venue for talking about my muse like that.”

Later once the event was over, you and Rafayel were sitting in his living room, he was sketching some new ideas for paintings, and you were absent mindlessly playing on your phone, the questions from earlier still buzzing through your head. While lost in thought Rafayel lays his head on your shoulder. This makes your heart skip a beat and breaks you out of your trance.

“What are we ?” you suddenly ask slightly turning your head to where Rafalye was leaning.

“What?” he lifts his head off your shoulder to look at you confused.

You took a deep breath before starting, scared of confrontation, but you just had to know “When we were at your art show you kept calling me your muse, and apart from that you also act like my boyfriend most days, but you’ve never said that you were and you’ve also never called me your girlfriend. So I’ll ask again, what are we?”

“What, I thought it was obvious?” he said with a little smile. He takes both your hands into his and looks into your eyes

“Well, it's not obvious to me, so?” you wanted to look away from his gaze but you were afraid if you did you wouldn’t have the courage to look back at him again.

“You’re my muse,” he said excitedly, smile growing even bigger.

“I knew it, that's all I am to you just some inspiration for your art ” You sigh and get up to leave but he holds tighter to your hands

Is that what you think a muse is ?” He laughed softly. “To me a muse not only inspires my art but is my art, everything I do is for my muse. My muse consumes my every waking thought, I need her to be around me at all times to even function properly. You’re more than just a girlfriend to me, you’re my most precious muse.”

#love and deepspace #Rafayel #love and deepspace Rafayel #lnds rafayel #lnds #rafayel x mc #loveanddeepspace #l&ds #headcanons #love and deepspace headcanons #love and deepspace fic #love and deep space fan fic #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace angst #writing #creative writing #otome game

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valkierrie · 5 months ago

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ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀꜱ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀꜱ.

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Warning(s): (Liam Gallagher smut), swearing, alcohol.

Plot: Y/N was considered by others to be tied down by her religion. She didn't think she needed anything apart from her bible, but upon meeting Liam Gallagher, he shows her the pleasures of life she was taught was taboo and opens her up to a world of Enlightenment.

Word count: 6.4K

A/N: A story I've been dying to get out, don't worry, I will be back on the requests for the Damon girlies and the one Noel request as well as Ian Brown. This story was hell to write and even worst to edit. Enjoy.

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The chapel was packed, as it normally was on Sunday mornings. The church was bigger than most and could hold twice the size. The soft smell of freshly baked chocolate chip biscuits filled the air as worship leaders served them to entering bodies of people. I chose to sit towards the front. Not the front row, but two or three rows behind it. My own biscuit rested on top of a white napkin and set beside my Bible on the wooden bench.

As people filed, filling up the seats left and right, I wore the usual. A long-sleeved shirt tucked into a long skirt, finished off with the usual smile that was on my face when my eyes met someone else’s. There was the familiar sound of chatter as couples greeted couples and families greeted families.

Pastor Thomas took his place on the high platform, behind the large, white altar. His tall figure stood before the church, looking over all of us with an intense level of authority. Which to some extent, one could argue he had. The chatters turned to murmurs before it went to silence. He had that power. He didn’t need to speak to command a room, but when he did, everyone listened. Myself included. I admired him dearly. Always impressed with his self-control and discipline—qualities I lacked and wished dearly to grasp with the same firm hold he had on them.

“Good morning.” Pastor Thomas greeted.

There was a chorus of greetings all throughout the congregation.

“Now, today’s sermon is going to be a little different.” He glanced around at the rows of families, his face in an expression that I couldn’t quite decipher. “Let’s have our little ones onto the room next door, please.” He signalled for one of the worship leaders, who was guided the kids towards himself.

Parents ushered their small children towards the worship leader, some tinkering or fixing their clothes before nudging them towards him. He led them out of the large worship hall we were in and took them elsewhere. There were small conversations and shuffles as the transition occurred.

Pastor Thomas gathered everyone’s attention back. “Right.” He coughed. “Dear brothers and sisters in Christ—” His voice falters, as if the titles were poison at the edge of his tongue. “Though, I hesitate to call you that. Let’s not lie in the house of the Lord, you are all sinners.”

There was an echo of whispers all around the flock.

“Yes, each and every single one of you.” Pastor Thomas didn’t waver; his tone was cold and convicting. “As I am very clearly pure in the eyes of the Father, I am your shepherd, and it is my duty to make sure your souls aren’t dragged to the pits of hell.”

There was a small pause between his words, allowing us to take it all in. I wasn’t too sure I was taking it in well. I understood what he was saying, and it wasn’t anything new. He always spoke in this tone, but lately something strange had been simmering. I didn’t know how to go about it, really. I found myself doing less of the expected head-nodding and seal-clapping, instead my brow rose. I may have looked up to the man, but one couldn’t help but...inquire on his choice of words when he preached. I tried to orient myself in the way he preached, and the more I tried, the harder the feeling unsettlement settled. Even now, I was uncertain, but there wasn’t exactly anyone I could go about my thoughts with.

“Today, I bring upon you a topic that has been plaguing our youths and poisoning them, worse than any alcohol and drug in the world.” He spoke gesturally, using his hands to emphasise his point. “Fornication. Sexual intercourse before marriage.” Pastor Thomas’ hands touched the pulpit softly, though his grip was firm. “This topic isn’t up for debate, it is clear in the book, First Corinthians, chapter six, verse eighteen. You are to ‘flee from sexual immorality’ but instead today what do I see? The complete opposite. One can only wonder what our Lord in heaven and what I think about it all.”

There was silence, only sounds being made was the silent shuffling made by the movements of heads in agreement.

“Even something as small as the thought of fornication is destined take you to eternal hellfire. Unless you follow me, your fate is sealed.”

I adjusted my posture uncomfortably, moving my shoulders slowly. That last sentence felt targeted towards me specifically. Though there wasn’t any logical explanation or concrete evidence that it was, that didn’t stop my mind from betraying me. As of recently, I’ve been having... less than holier thoughts. The fleeting, unbidden thoughts. The kind that left small yet remanent wet patches on my undergarments. The yearning desire was strong, I didn’t understand why I felt this way, nor did I want to know. There was no way I was going to talk to anyone about it and risk the inevitable judgement that was to come. I couldn't. I picked up my Bible, like a sigil that was meant to protect me from the civil war in my mind. It wasn’t me anymore—the girl who found peace in a place like this. The sentiment was nothing show of a distant memory; I wasn’t so sure that I fit in anymore.

“I decree today...” Pastors Thomas set his gaze firmly on the congregation with importance, as if the following words that would come out of his mouth would become the next testimonies of the New Testament. “That as long as you abide to my words, your soul will be saved. If you don’t, don’t expect to be remembered for anything aside from choosing to separate yourself from God, after all, no one mourns the wicked.”

That was the last of what he said about it, and it left a dry taste in my mouth. Something felt wrong—something was wrong. Ironically, it felt like God was trying to tell me something at that moment. Pastor Thomas’ words covered my ears and his presence blinded my eyes. As the rest of the service went by, rather forgettably, my regard shifted to the glass windows. For what seemed like a few seconds, my thoughts drifted to what could have been, without any of it. The judgement or the expectation. The light peering through was bright, enticing, almost beckoning. Pastor’s Thomas’ words still lingered in my head as I walked home.

“You finally back to the land of the living, love?” Eliza called out as I walked into the flat. Eliza, my darling antithesis of a flatmate, laid on the sofa, feet tucked under her as she applied layers mascara over her eyes.

I sighed, removing my flats and leaving them beside the door. It took a few strides for me to reach the sofa and plop down beside her.

“How was it?” She asked, her gaze still fixed on the small mirror on her lap.

“Fine.”

“Uh, oh,” she teased, “that sounds eventful.”

“Eliza, please, save the sarcasm for another time. I’m not in the mood.”

Eliza smirked, moving her gaze from the mirror to me. “What’s going on?”

“Why do you think anything’s going on?”

“You usually have that stupid smile on your face after ev’ry church visit.”

A tired sigh escaped my lips. “Do you...” There was a flicker of hesitation in my tone. “At church today, something felt off...”

Eliza rose a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well...” I sat up, straightening my back. I wasn’t exactly sure how to sum up what was going through my mind in simple words. “Pastor Thomas was preaching about fornication.”

“Is that what’s got your knickers in a bunch?” Eliza rolled her eyes. “I’ve told you once and I’ll say it again a million times, getting a few good shags once in a while won’t kill ya.”

“It wasn’t what he said, it was how he said it.”

Eliza adjusted her position, turning her crossed legged self towards me, her head tilting ever-so sightly.

“He was authoritative, it felt as if he was playing God—or he thought that he was God. It felt cultish.” I sighed, this time not out of tiredness, but in discord. “It’s stupid. Maybe I’m just overthinking it...”

“It’s not stupid, you’re just...curious, that’s okay.”

“It shouldn’t be like that though...right?”

“How should I know, I haven’t been to a church in years, let alone picked up a bible.” Eliza snorted.

The humour in the situation hadn’t caught up to me, Eliza could see that. She placed the tube of her mascara on the coffee table, grinning. “Tell you what—I’m going to the pub downtown with a couple mates, why don’t you come?”

“A pub, really?” I blinked.

“Hey, don’t knock it,” She laughed, using her knee to nudge mine. “A change of scenery’ll do you some good. In addition, you get to see me in ideal element—chugging down pints.”

“Of course.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. I wasn’t sure what prompted me to accept her invitation, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt, especially since it I was adamant that this was going to be a one-time thing.

Eliza squealed, pulling me into a small hug as a reluctant smile tugged at my lips.

The evening took over quicker than I had anticipated, and I found myself stood at the entrance of a dodgy building, adjusting the blouse Eliza had begged me to wear.

“If you’re not going to wear anything flattering,” She had told me, rummaging through her closet. “Then at least wear this.” She had pulled out a small white blouse. The shirt was cropped at the bottom, the neckline was a low V-neck. Not low enough to give my mother a heart attack—just low.

Eliza pulled me by the arm into the pub. The place was packed despite the size.

“I swear,” Eliza tried to speak over the other loud conversations. “It’s never this crowded, must be a match day or summat.” She pulled me through the crowd of people. Her theory might have held validity because a few—a lot of a them wore jerseys. They stood, crowded near the bar, their gazes fixed on the small TV mounted on the wall. Screams and shouts were all over.

Eliza led me to a small table towards one of the corner windows. She greeted the strangers sat there with a smile and a simple, “Alright?”

There was an ensemble of greetings returned to her.

“I brought me mate, Y/N.” Eliza nodded towards me.

The row of eyes that fell onto me felt a bit intimidating. I gave them a simple wave before taking an empty seat. Eliza began chattin’ up one of her mates. It was clearly one she was very familiar with; anyone could tell by the way she moving her hand up and down his shoulder. From how he looked like and how Eliza had described him in prior conversations, I assumed it was her boyfriend, Alexander. I sat there awkwardly, not really sure what I could’ve done. My mind was all over the place and contrary to what Eliza had claimed, this was doing nothing to help. The yelling and rowdiness of it all rendered me unable to think clearly in the sloghtest.

“I leave my seat for 3 seconds, and some bird’s already nicked it.” A voice broke my thoughts.

“Excuse me?” I turned to the side, where the source of the voice came from, only to be greeted by a tall bloke. He stood with a lanky build, and short, shaggy, dark hair. He had a light blue jersey worn over his torso; the colour was almost as blue as his eyes. A lit cigarette dangled from his lips. I couldn’t lie; he looked quite fit under the low lights.

“I said,” he repeated. “You’re in my seat.” He took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling the fumes, tapping the butt of his cigarette.

I was taken aback by the tone, and bit annoyed. “I didn’t see you sitting in it, nor did I see a name on it.”

“Got a right gob on ya, don’t ya.” He crossed his arm.

I opened my mouth, ready to say something, but whatever was about to come out of my mouth was cut short when Eliza approached. “Liam, finally. Didn’t see ya, was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”

Liam, scoffed. “I wouldn’t show,” he mocked. “Yeah right. City’s playing United, like I’d miss that.”

“’Course, good old Liam Gallagher just couldn’t stay away.” Eliza chuckled; she turned towards me. “Y/N, you’ve met Liam, right?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Oh, yeah?” Liam smirked; he turned to Eliza. “You’re—uh mate here stole my chair.”

“Can’t steal something that doesn’t belong to you.” I retorted.

“That’s Y/N for ya.” Eliza shook her head, laughing. She turned towards the bar. “I’m gonna get a drink. You two want anythin’?”

“Just a pint for me, yeah?”

I simply shook my head.

“Suite yerself.” Eliza shrugged.

“You not drinkin’?”

I shook my head. “What’s it to you?”

“Nowt, just askin’.” he chuckled, pulling up another chair that was left unattended. “You’re at a bar, figured you’d get a drink or summat, but then again...” His voice trailed off, and his gaze lowered to my chest, where a small, gold, crucifix necklace laid.

“So, why’d you ask?”

“Didn’t wanna assume.” Liam shrugged. He exhaled another cloud of smoke, allowing it to curl between us. His gaze was set on necklace once more before his eyes met mine. “What brings a bird like you out here, then?”

“Stretching my horizons.” I responded light and sarcastically, placing my hands on my lap.

“Right.” He rolled his eyes, tapping his cigarette against the table. “And I’m the bloody Queen.”

“Eliza’s idea. She needs someone who isn’t pissed to take her back to the flat at the end of the night.”

“Nice thing, that.” Liam nodded, as if processing the information. “That shirt also her idea?” He nodded towards my top.

“Why d’you think that?”

“It’s actually got a neckline. Gives a blokes summat interestin’ ‘bout ya to look at.”

The statement caught me off guard, before I could respond, Eliza interrupted me once more, this time coming back with a long glass cup filled with the beverage Liam had requested, a cloud of foam overtaking the top.

“Cheers, love.” He thanked Eliza.

Eliza gave him a smile before returning to her other mates. Liam took sip of his drink.

“You’ve ever had one of these?”

I shook my head.

“Tragic, you’re missin’ out. This is heaven, this.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is.”

“It is,” Liam nodded in agreeance. “You should get one.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Ah, you one of ‘em proper good girls?” He smirked.

I didn’t like that question, at all. Liam could tell; the smirk grew wider. He kept going, as if getting a rise out of me was some kind of funny humorous thing. I didn’t feel like dignifying his taunts with a response. I stood up, ready to find Eliza or elsewhere to sit.

Liam’s hand caught my arm with a gentle grip. “C’mon, I’m just takin’ the piss. Fair play an’ all that.” His tone was still the same, but I could tell that he wasn’t outright trying to mock me.

“Right.” I pulled my arm away.

Liam raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, I’ll back down.”

I sat back down.

Liam smiled. “Let’s try again.” He stuck out his hand towards me. “Liam. Liam Gallagher.”

My eyes flickered from his hand to his face. “Y/N,” reluctantly, I took and shook it. “Y/N L/N.”

Liam leaned back, his grin widening. “So, Y/N. You ever head of Oasis?”

“Oasis?” I repeated, trying to figure out if the band held a place of familiarity. “I’m not sure that I have, what is it?”

Liam chuckled. “Only the best band in the fuckin’ world.”

“Is that right?” I rose a brow. “Why’s that?”

“’Cause I’m in it.” Liam stated it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“That sounds biased.”

“It’s not biased; It’s just a fact.”

That was the first thing that evenin’ that managed to get a smile out of me, I didn’t know why. His confident demeanour almost made me want to believe him. The rest of the evening went by pretty fast with Liam keeping me ‘entertained’ with stories about his band. They were unusual for sure, but somehow, they had managed to tug at the corners of my lips or made a chuckle escape my lips before I could stop myself.

By the time Eliza made her way back to me, the time was well past when I’d be in bed, and Eliza was stumblin’ about.

“That’s my cue.”

Liam nodded. I placed Eliza’s arm over my shoulders, my arm going around her waist for support, and helped her out of the pub. I wanted to say that I had a lousy time, but it wasn’t all bad.

Eliza mumbled some slurred intelligible statements in an effort to convey something, whatever it may be. For someone so tall, she was pretty lightweight. It was darker outside than a had been when we arrived, the temperature seemed to have dropped as well, the cold air hit me like a slap to the face. Almost made me regret leaving the flat without a jacket. It made sense as to why Eliza had gone without out. She’d be too out of it to complain about the cold.

We passed a strange-looking building; one I saw frequently on my way to church. It hadn’t paid much attention to it—mainly because it blended in well with the other buildings. Tonight, however, it was lit up. Coloured lights everywhere, mainly red ones. Women, many in various stages of scantily clad clothing, stood outside. Some leaned against the lamp posts while others were near the entrance or likely inside.

I paid them no mind, I had no business with them—plain and simple. As I gently dragged Eliza forward and down the street, something caught my eye—rather someone. Coming out of the building was a tall man, a woman’s arm interlocked with his. I recognized him immediately, and holy fuck.

Pastor Thomas.

Pastor Thomas grinned as the woman pulled him forward. Their lips were moving, but I couldn’t quite make out what was being said. But from the smiles on both of their faces and the ease between them, as well as the way her face lit up with a grin when Pastor Thomas handed her a few note, it was obvious what was going on.

There wasn’t a single bible in sight.

Of course, I was aware that people had lives outside of church, but seeing him coming out of somewhere like that? There was no logical way to put the pieces together without something being wrong. I couldn’t make sense of it.

It should have been obvious what was going on, but my brain supressed the truth. My head didn’t want to allow me to get to that point of acceptance. Not yet. I almost dropped Eliza from my shock. I adjusted my grip around her waist as I quickened my pace, hoping to pass unseen. As we did, I turned back, silently praying that it wasn’t who I thought it was—that fatigue was just playing a cruel joke on me.

Pastor Thomas’ eyes met mine. I couldn’t possibly tell you what going on in his brain. His expression changed, not to that of guilt, or embarrassment, or anything of the sorts. This moment felt like a page out of Animal Farm. I didn’t recognize him. His gaze felt like a was sort of a silent threat, a challenge of sorts. One that told me that he was aware of what I had seen and dared me to say something about it. I moved Eliza and I along until we reached the flat. I fumbled with the key until the door unlocked. Kicking it open, I helped Eliza inside.

I helped her out of her shoes, taking her to her room. I wasn’t exactly sure how much she’d to drink, but I was certain it wasn’t enough to let her sleep on her back. I adjusted her position, letting her sleep comfortably on her side.

In my own room, I changed out of my clothes and into my pyjamas. As I laid on my bed, sleep just wouldn’t catch up to me. My mind was begging for a conclusion—anything. It replayed what I had seen, searching and scanning for answers and loopholes. What I saw wouldn’t suffice. Was that what God was trying to tell me?

God, I sounded crazy, getting warnings from God. Now I knew how Joan of Arc felt. Was this what I was warned about? That my pastor taught one thing and did the opposite. I was undeniably disappointed.

If he couldn’t hold himself to the standards he had set, what did that say about what I stood for?

My thoughts didn’t keep me up for too long. I wasn’t sure when I had fallen asleep, but I knew I had when my eyes fluttered open and bright light spilled into my room from the small available cracks on my shutters. I blinked rapidly, allowing my eyes to get adjusted.

In the kitchen, Eliza leaned against a counter, one hand on her temple and the other on a glass of water.

“Remind me to never drink again.” She groaned.

“That’d be in vain.” I spoke with a dry tone.

Her head lifted, a small yet weak smile on her face. “Thanks for last night. Who knows where I would’ve ended up if you weren’t there.”

“It was nothing.” I shrugged. “It’s what a friend does.”

Eliza turned so her lower back hit the counter, she took a sip of her water. “How’re you holdin’ up?”

“What?” I blinked.

“Did last night help you clear your mind?”

“No,” I shook my head. “If anything, it made things worse.”

“How?” Eliza’s brows knit in confusion; her smile was replaced with a frown. “Was it Liam? You were talkin’ to him all night—did he say summat?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

There was a hint of hesitation before I spoke.“When I was walking you back home, I saw something.”

“Really?”

I nodded.

“Okay, well tell me.”

“I saw Pastor Thomas coming out of a building—”

“Is that it? ” She blinked.

“I think it was a brothel.”

Silence.

“A brothel?” Eliza repeated, in surprise. “Are you sure?”

“I know what I saw—” I said, my voice firm. “—and I didn’t see a bible or anything.

“wow...” Eliza's mouth was still ajar from the semi bomb I dropped. “You plannin’ on going back to that church?”

“I don’t know.”

“I honestly wish I could help, really, I do.” She spoke, her fingers massaging her temple. “But this hangover is doin’ me head in.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.”

Eliza gave me a sympathetic smile, placing her hand on my shoulder and squeezing it.

—

Days of loitering about on the sofa occurred. Times where I should have been at church, where spent in the flat, doing nothing in particular. Luckily, Eliza kept me fed and kept away anyone from the congregation who was “too curious” about my absence from the church. The weigh of it felt like a heavy rock pressing down on me.

It felt ridiculous, something so small, yet it held significance and I wasn’t sure why. Was my “belief” truly a belief if it had managed to be shaken by something like this?

“You can’t keep sitting around like this.” Eliza said, one morning.

I sat on the sofa, pulling my blanket higher over my shoulders. “Sure I can,” I argued. “I’m doing it right now.”

“You can’t.” Eliza rolled her eyes, settling beside me.

I didn’t say anything.

“If you’ve got nowt to do...” Eliza started.

I rose my brow, I knew where this was going. “No.”

Eliza’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “You didn’t even lemme ask.”

“Didn’t have to.”

Eliza rolled her eyes. “I was gonna ask you to take me to the pub. Again.”

“No way, that was a one-time thing.”

Eliza stuck out her lips in a small pout.

“That’s not going work.”

“It works with Alexander.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not Alexander.” I turned towards her, giving her a look. “And didn’t you say you were going to stop drinking.”

“People change.” She shrugged.

“Right.” I deadpanned.

“C’mon, please.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”

Eliza grinned triumphantly.

—

Eliza and I found ourself in the same place we had been. It was like déjà vu, minus the blouse. I chose to stick with clothes that came from my own closet, much to Eliza’s annoyance. The pub was tamer than it had been the other time. There were actual visible empty chairs. Eliza greeted her mates near the bar. I sat further away, not really having much interest in them.

The scraping sound of a chair being pulled back caught my attention. My gaze turned to the side, there he was again, Liam. An ever-present and cocky smirk accompanied him. “Back again?”

“Yeah, I am. You got a problem with that?”

Liam shook his head, the smirk remained as he leaned back. “Not at all, didn’t see you for a while—got worried I might of scared ya off.”

“Great, now you’ve seen me.” I deadpanned.

“I would, but it’s not as fun, y’know what I mean?”

I rolled my eyes.

“What’s got you in mood, then?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but these last few days haven’t exactly been a cakewalk.”

“Lemme guess,” Liam leaned back. “You havin’ trouble deciding which bible verse to read before bed?”

My eyes narrowed slightly. That didn’t bother Liam one bit, if anything, it made his grin wider.

“My problem isn’t exactly that simple.”

“I’m sure it isn’t.” He chuckled.

My expression remained very much the same. I adjusted my position, placing my elbow on the table and my chin on my palm.

“Y’know what’ll be bound to make you feel better?”

“What?”

“A cold pint.”

“I don’t drink.” I reiterated.

“C’mon, love, why sit and stress when you can drink and forget?”

I just stared at him. From the short time I’ve gotten to know what he was about, I learned that he wasn’t what you’d classify as Harvard-level intelligence, but he wasn’t stupid. I wanted to get out of this funk—I really did. He seemed to know what he was talking about, and Eliza always did look happy when she drank.

“...Fine.”

Liam’s brows shot up, as if he didn’t quite believe what I’d just said. “Alright.” he nodded, standing up. He went towards the bar, telling something to the bartender. The bartender handed him two glasses. Liam sat back down at my table, sliding one of the drinks towards me.

“Try it.” Liam encouraged, taking a sip of his own drink.

I did so. The taste was...unique. I’ve had alcohol before, if you count the wine they offered at church. The liquid burned my throat, it tasted bitter. After I swallowed it, a strong taste remained. I shook my head a bit.

“Atta girl,” he grinned. “You’ll get used to the taste.”

“I’m not sure I want to.”

“It’ll grow on ya.” Liam encouraged with a chuckle.

I took a few more sips of the liquid and true to Liam’s words, the bitter after taste was almost numb to me.

“Feelin’ better?”

“A bit.” I chuckled. “My head feels fuzzy.”

I leaned back, unbuttoning some of the top buttons of my shirt.

“Look on the bright side, you look fit.”

I turned my head to look at him, a ghost of a smile playing at my lips before I could stop it. Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Is that what you tell all the girls you trick into buying a drink?”

“Only if they’re fit.” Liam shrugged. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

I leaned in close; Miscalculated my move. My drink to spill right on my lap. I quickly sat the cup right side up.

“Bloody hell.” Liam burst into a fit of laughter.

I stood up quickly, causing some of the drink to spill on to the ground. I released an aggressive sigh.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.” I rolled my eyes. “I swear, I’m never drinking again.”

“C’mon,” Liam stood up, grabbing my arm. “I’ll help ya.”

He didn’t give me a chance to give him an answer. Eliza saw us as we passed, her brows knit, I had barely had time to register it.

Liam led to the restroom, pulling me inside after him and closing the door behind him. He picked up a stack of paper towels, dabbing them over my clothes—uselessly. his efforts did less to help than he had likely hoped. I placed my hand over his, stopping him.

“It’s alright, I got it.”

“Lemme help.” he insisted.

“I don’t think what you’re doing qualifies as help.” I giggled.

“Counts as summat.”

My shirt was tainted by the beverage. I was certain I looked absolutely ridiculous. Liam just stared at me. I wasn’t sure what expression he was conveying to me.

“What?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, as if atmosphere between us was sacred.

“Go on then, tell me what’s been doin’ ya ‘ead in.” His voice was soft.

“Just stuff with my church.” I spoke vaguely, hoping he wouldn’t pry deeper.

“What happened?”

There was the hesitation again. I looked at his face for any hint of malice or insincerity, but I found none. With a sigh, I spoke. “My pastor preaches about abstinence before marriage, while he goes to brothels.”

Liam’s eyebrows shot up, laughter escaping from his throat.

“Shut up, it’s not funny.” I hit in the chest; Liam only laughed harder.

“Nah, it’s fuckin’ hilarious.” He grinned, wiping the corners of his eyes. “A brothel—now I’d pay good money to see that.”

My eyes narrowed.

“I don’t see how that would bother ya.”

“He’s a pastor, always goes on and on about how that kind of thing is bad then goes around and does? He’s a hypocrite.” I looked down at my hands. “I looked up to him, now I just feel stupid.”

Liam’s laughing subsided, fading. His expression fell to something softer. “Hey, c’mon, don’t say that. The tosser had no right to order you lot like that, ‘specially if he was doin’ that shit. You’re not stupid, alright?”

I looked up at him, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. The warmth of his words spread all throughout my chest. “Thanks Liam.”

Liam smiled, stepping closer. For a brief second, his eyes darted downwards to my lips, then back to my face. He just stared at me.

Then, before I knew it, his hands cupped my cheeks, pulling me close and our lips met in a kiss. A startled sound escaped my lips. My hands found his shoulders, my conditioned state yelled at me to pull back—to push him away, but I couldn’t. Liam’s hands slid down, finding my waist. His tongue had made its way inside my mouth, wrestling with mine.

He pulled away briefly, attempting to grasp as much oxygen as he could. I did the same, before I was pulled back, lips locking on to his.

The buttons of my shirt were slowly coming undone until it was completely off. Left in my bra, the cold had goosebumps slowly making their way up my arms. It was strange standing like this in front of him, but I had a feeling, an almost animalistic desire—primal. It didn’t Liam long to get his shirt off and on the floor. At the moment, there wasn’t a care in the world about how dirty they were. Liam’s hands grasp my waist firmly, his fingers digging at them. It wasn't painful, there was just a feeling of pressure.

His lips moved with mine, there was a strange sensation I felt as we moved together. I wasn’t entirely sure how to describe it, but it was...good.

Liam slowly moved me back against the wall adjacent to the one that had the sink and mirror attached to it. The cold wall hit my back softly, lips still moulding against each other. Liam’s hand held my lower back, while the other grazed my thigh, slowly rising up and under my skirt. It moved gently, there was no haste nor rush in his touch, as if he wanted to savour every second.

“You can... touch me, you know.” I told him. The brave tone in which I spoke with surprised myself. Perhaps the drink had an elixir-like effect on my brain chemistry.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I confirmed, leaning back towards him for a hungry kiss.

For once, I didn’t feel confined—trapped, that was how I felt and it felt fucking amazing.

Liam’s hand flickered upwards, a soft whimper escaped my lips. I didn’t why it did, but it did.

“Do that again.” I whispered.

Liam complied; another sound was expelled from lips. The lace of my underwear was toyed with by Liam, brushing against my entrance with a frustrating slowness.

Something between a gasp and a moan was the reaction that occurred when he slipped a finger inside. It stretched me in a way that made me shudder. The sensation felt odd—not in a bad way, just the unfamiliarity of it.

I couldn’t wrap my head around what was happening. Maybe it was the weird buzz in my head from the drink, or maybe my thoughts had been cleared and I had subconsciously realised that maybe those standards that I held myself to wasn’t how I felt anymore.

Whatever the case might have been, it felt liberating. A feeling of liberty.

Liam’s finger managed to get a hold of a spot that had my head tilting back and my vision blurred. Then he inserted another one.

“Ahh—” I gasped, my hand holding onto his shoulders tightly as his fingers thrusted inwardly. His angles changed ever so slightly, eliciting a feeling of anticipation.

I wanted—no, I needed more.

My hips bucked almost instinctively towards his hand. Incoherent babbles were all that were coming out of my mouth. Liam kissed the corners of my mouth, his wet kisses slowly trailing downwards. My breath hitched when Liam’s lips met a particular spot slightly above my collarbone.

I could feel a smirk forming against my skin. Cheeky bastard.

One particular thrust of Liam’s fingers made me jump, sending an intense feeling throughout my entire body. It felt as if I was having a heart attack, but without danger. My heart was racing, palpitations sending heavy vibrations throughout my body. The rate of my breathing increased rapidly, rising and the decreasing as the foreign, yet satisfying, feeling went away.

Liam’s fingers pulled away gently as the intensity slowly dissipated.

“You good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I panted.

“Good.” Liam’s hand remained on my back.

Liam’s face came close to mine once more until our lips met once more. His hands rose to my upper back, fumbling with the hooks of my bra until it came loose. The light under garment fell with ease. My hands instinctually fell over my chest. I’d never been exposed to this degree if front of anyone, it felt new.

“None of that.” He gently pulled my arm down. “You look beautiful.”

My breath hitched. His lips grazed my collarbones, going lower and lower. My hands raked him dark brown hair.

Liam reached down to undue his belt, letting his jeans fall to the floor. His length looked firm, pressing against his boxers.

His eyes flickered onto mine, as if he were silently asking me for permission. I nodded. Liam pulled me close. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I hadn’t anticipated the stretch I felt when Liam slowly pushed inside me.

I took a sharp breath, my hands squeezing his shoulders. It hurt—it did. Liam did his best to accommodate that, moving slowly.

Liam groaned softly, muttering obscenities. “Fuck...” The pace wasn’t rushed—it was slow, but steady, slowly allowing the discomfort to be transformed to pleasure.

I couldn’t believe it, genuinely. I was having sex, and in a pub bathroom no less. It wasn’t at all how Pastor Thomas had painted it out to be. This didn’t feel dirty or wrong, not at all. I felt connected, our pleasured sounds over taking the bathroom.

It was simply too much. I caught sight of Liam’s damp forehead, his hair clinging onto his forehead. His pink-tinted swollen and moist lips kissed mine with ferocity. It was hard to keep up when his hips kept colliding with mine faster and faster...

I couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t think at all. I wasn’t even kissing Liam at this point, instead I gasped and moaned into his mouth.

Liam’s pace quickened. “Fuckin’ hell... Yeah—fuck, so good...” Liam moaned. With a couple more sloppy thrusts, Liam let out throaty groan, his head falling on my shoulder. An intense feeling that I could only describe as pure euphoria took over. It felt like death. A heavenly way to die. My head tipped back once more; I was releasing sounds I didn’t even know I could make. I felt a warm, liquid-like substance filling me up. As soon as Liam soften inside me, he pulled out.

As soon as he did, the liquid dripped down my thighs.

I attempted to catch my breath, and he seemed to be doing the same. “You, okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. You?”

Liam nodded.

There was a small moment of silence. It wasn’t awkward or anything, quite the opposite.

“Reckon we’re proper filthy, eh?” Liam teased.

I chuckled. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

Liam helped with me get sorted with my clothes before getting to his. His hands shrugged mine off as he buttoned up my shirt. When he finished, his hands found my cheeks again. He didn’t kiss me this time, just looked at me, as if I was someone important. Someone worth looking at like that.

My mind was racing, not with stress, just confusion. I wasn’t what this meant. Did this mean that my faith was tarnished?

I enjoyed it, I did.

What did it mean?

#gallagher brothers #liam gallagher x reader #oasis band #oasis #oasis x reader #fanfiction #liam gallagher smut #liam gallagher x you #smut #britpop #britpop x reader #liam gallagher #battle of britpop #Liam gallagher x fem!reader

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ohmygodryan · 1 month ago

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𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Creepypasta Reverse Harem x F! Reader (Part 7)

“𝓗𝓮𝔂 𝓜𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓜𝓾𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓻, 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓘? 𝓜𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝔂 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝔂 𝓲𝓯 𝓘 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮?” -AFI

★ ₊ ˚⟡ Following a series of mistakes on Halloween, a college girl, and her group of friends, are thrown into a sequence of events that will ruin their lives forever.

𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓼 - Eyeless Jack, Tim Wright (MH), Brian Thomas (MH), Jeffery Woods, Toby Rodgers, Helen Otis

I am unsure of the original creator of these images, if known, please tell me and I will credit :)

Previously called Morosis. Please see my blog for more chapters!

7┆ Bad Girls Club★ ₊ ˚⟡

"𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝓪 𝓭𝓻𝓾𝓰, 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓾𝓷. 𝓘'𝓶 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓿𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓶 𝓸𝓯 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓪𝓭 𝓖𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼 𝓒𝓵𝓾𝓫." -Falling in Reverse

The girl watched as her hair fell into the sink like ribbons from a Christmas gift. A haircut should be trivial, but the pieces seemed to stare up at her as if she'd lost a friend all over again.

She cast her gaze back up to her reflection in the mirror of the gas station bathroom the group had been slumming at. She was no professional, but she felt like her new bob suited her at the very least. Her hair feathered just below her ears and brushed her chin gently. She had even bleached it a few shades lighter to add the perfect touch. However, no matter how good it turned out, the person in the mirror was still foreign to her.

It had been a few days since the revelation Becca, Jen, and herself were wanted criminals. Tim and Brian had done everything they could to help them lay low, even with Jeff sticking close by the girl like a guard dog. She hadn't asked him to be there, although she'd never admit he made her feel slightly safer from her accomplices. All three women had made an effort to alter their appearances. At least now they didn't look exactly like their pictures on the evening news. Despite this, the girl still felt like she was constantly watched by a leering gaze. She secretly prayed it was law enforcement over the Operator or even worse, the demon.

She hoped with every bone in her body she'd never befall his eyeless gaze again.

The girl was shaken from her trance by the noise of the door squeaking open. Jen peeked in from the small slit, Becca lurking behind her. Both seemed equally shocked at how different the girl looked, stopping to scan her over.

Jen had traditionally kept her hair a bleach blonde. Occasionally, her dark roots would peek through. Now her hair was even darker than its natural color and she had even cut herself new bangs. Similarly, Becca had gone lighter and given herself a new style. She had begrudgingly discarded her eyebrow piercing as if that would do much more.

Jen surveyed the girl, the ghost of a smile appearing on her features, "This is a good look for you."

The girl met her gaze gratefully, the distraction from her thoughts was much appreciated. She messed with her newly cut bangs, smiling softly.

Becca pushed her way around Jen to get a better look at the girl. Her expression was unreadable, although the girl could sense trouble stirring.

"I gotta say, you pull off blonde way better than me. I'm almost jealous." Becca mused, crossing her arms as she took in her friend.

The girl laughed softly, "I know you're a brunette girly, but I think you look good. Don't give me so much credit."

The small talk felt almost strange amongst the group. The girl didn't know how long it had been since they'd discussed something normal.

Becca scoffed and joined the girl in front of the mirror. She stared deeply into her reflection, her jaw beginning to clench.

"God, I hate this." She said through her teeth.

Jen stood next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "It's not that bad. You'll get used to it."

Becca blinked in annoyance, eyeing her sharply.

"I'm not talking about my hair. I mean this whole fucking ordeal. I mean come on, are we sure this is better than taking responsibility?" Her tone was laced with a long brewing annoyance.

"I know it's hard Becs, this is the scariest thing any of us have ever done." The girl reassured, "We're in this for you."

"Right," Jen agreed, "This isn't our fault."

This seemed to be the final straw as Becca jerked her shoulder away from Jen. She backed away, her eyes wild with a sea of anger and hurt.

"Can you stop saying that? I'm fucking sick of it. We can't keep acting like this wasn't all because of us, because of me. Cass is dead due to my actions. Then we just run away like we are above consequences? I deserve to be locked up, I shouldn't get to have a normal life again." Her voice cracked under the sheer rage.

A pang shot through the girl's chest like a twisting dagger. How could Becca still blame herself? She out of all of them should understand that going to prison would solve nothing. The demon would still be loose on the world and they would likely be slaughtered by him in the end. At least now they could actively search for a way to be rid of him for good.

"This is our consequence! We brought the demon here so it's our responsibility to stop him. We can't let more people suffer Cass's fate, you know that." The girl challenged.

Becca stared through the girl as if seeing her for the first time. Her fists tightened, knuckles turning a milky white. Her gaze swirled with confliction, yet she couldn't stop the words from pouring from her mouth.

"Please, we don't even know if we can stop that psychotic bitch. What have we done so far? Get caught up with a bunch of insane strangers?" Becca pushed, her gaze hardening.

Jen pressed her lips together, although not entirely disregarding her words.

"None of us knew this would happen." She offered.

Becca laughed cynically, "We don't seem to know a lot nowadays, huh? Speaking of which, I feel like you two don't even want to talk to me."

She cast an accusatory look at the girl, "And you keep on fucking disappearing! You're leaving us alone with these assholes, and for what?"

The girl cut her off swiftly with a hardened gaze, "That's not fair. I've been doing everything for you."

"Not fair? Don't talk to me about fairness. It's not like we don't notice how comfortable you are with them. You are so willing to be all close with Tim even though he tried fucking kill you! Oh and let's not even talk about you letting that pale creep hang around after he's been stalking you." Becca stepped closer, on the cusp of shouting.

The girl was stunned at her outburst. She opened her mouth to retort but nothing came out. Her body felt like it was frozen as hundreds of thoughts rushed into her mind. Were her sacrifices truly selfless? She hadn't meant to cast aside her friend's feelings but what else was she supposed to do? They were in the face of countless dangers, navigation wasn't as simple as they made it out to be.

Thankfully, Jen stepped in front of the girl, shielding her from Becca's gaze.

"That's enough. We are all going through a lot right now. We can't turn on each other." Jen's words were firm, but her voice wavered.

The girl took in a deep breath, trying to ignore the whirlpool that seemed to swirl through her insides. She had to push past the confusion, she couldn't let herself crack now.

"Tensions are running high right now, clearly. I think we need a breather before we have to leave." The girl managed to say in an even tone.

Becca nodded slowly, letting her freshly bleached locks fall over her face. She bit her lip, trying to keep more from spilling out.

Jen wrapped her arms around Becca's shoulders and the girl took this as her cue to leave. She knew that if she remained there, she would break down in tears.

She couldn't let them see her cry. They were the ones who needed to feel right now.

She pushed past the door, emerging out into the fluorescent-bathed gas station. She surveyed the shelves in an attempt to distract herself from the hurricane inside her chest.

She hated when she was like this, one thought after the other causing tremors throughout her body. She was better than this, she could handle her emotions. A quick step outside would fix her she reasoned. It had to.

As she stormed through the aisles, she caught Brian's eye from across the room. He went to smile at her but quickly thought better of it upon seeing her face. He approached her tentatively, his expression brimming with concern.

"You' ok?" He offered, "You look a little heated."

"I'm fine. Things are just confusing right now." She insisted, fighting to keep an indifferent look.

He nodded, knowing better than to press the subject. It wasn't his business to pry.

"Well, we have to get out of here soon anyway. If we're going to catch that guy who can help you out, we gotta' get to this party before it gets too late." He attempted to appease her with a subject change.

The party. The 'guy' Tim and Brian had talked about would apparently make an appearance at some lowlife party. The group knew it wouldn't be the safest scene, but the crowd that threw them was the only kind that could help them.

Despite social interaction not being her greatest strength at the moment, she felt more at ease at the prospect of alcohol.

The girl nodded, "Give us like 10 minutes. We need to get it together before we get out of here."

Brian seemed satisfied with her answer and gave her a small grin.

"Alright," He relented, "I'll get you a few snacks for the road. Might cheer you up."

She did her best to smile back before turning to make her way outside. It would be hard to truly forgive him, but it made it hard to stay angry with him when he was so gentle to her. In fact, it was infuriating.

The cold air hit her face and she revealed at the icy pins that pricked her skin. It was a welcome rush to contrast her pounding head. The fluttery feeling Brian constantly gave her only made her feel guiltier. It proved Becca right. She wished nothing more in that moment that her life could be simple and that she could live in a world where her three best friends were still together. A world where they could all tease her about having a crush. She didn't get to have a crush, she got to deal with grief and the looming presence of her own demise.

As she fought back tears, a presence appeared at her side. She didn't have to turn her head to know it was Jeff, who had been attentively waiting outside for the group to finish their pitstop.

"Before you ask, we won't be that much longer." She sniffed, hoping her hair would block her watery eyes.

He thankfully didn't question her. Instead, he simply stood next to her looking out into the trees.

"You look different." He stated as if it wasn't obvious.

She looked over at him questioningly. The dimly lit night only made his dark eyes seem all the more foreboding. He seemed to notice, his scars shifting across his cheeks as he grinned.

"It's not a bad different." He added, causing her to sigh.

"If you are trying to compliment me, you are doing a bad job." She huffed, crossing her arms.

He chuckled, eyeing her intently, "Alright fine, you look good. Does that make you feel better? It seems like things got pretty rough in there."

She shot him a glare, taken aback by his bluntness. He had somehow mastered being a dickhead and supportive all at once.

"Running from the police isn't easy. I'm sure you'd know a thing or two about that." She confessed, looking back to her shoes.

He rolled his shoulders, carefully considering her words. He'd been doing this for a while, he had forgotten what it had felt like to be afraid anymore. Although looking at her now made something stir within himself.

"You don't know the half of it." His tone seemed softer than it was before.

She almost thought he looked guilty for a moment. Almost.

He continued to look off into the distance, allowing her a moment to breathe. As he inspected the horizon, he let out a small sigh.

"Look," he turned to her promptly, "I don't think going to this party is the best idea."

She was taken aback by his words. She knew he didn't particularly enjoy Tim or Brian's presence, but thus far he had supported her to some degree.

"Why? You said yourself you thought this may be worth a shot if we want to keep our freedom." She questioned.

"I just don't think you're in the right mind to be going to a place like that right now. I mean the last time you went to a party, I had to drag you off the side of the road." He pointed out with an unimpressed look.

She scoffed, blinking her eyes in disbelief. Was he worried?

"Well I don't have much of a choice, now do I?" The girl shot back.

Jeff huffed, furrowing his eyebrows together. She was truly the most stubborn person he'd ever met.

"I meant more like don't start drinking or anything like that. You have no idea what you're dealing with." He said finally.

Her expression softened as his words marinated. He was making some sense, at least. Although alcohol was the one thing she was looking forward to at the moment.

"You're funny." She sighed, shaking her head.

Jeff didn't get the chance to respond as a familiar presence slinked around the corner. Tim, who had been smoking around the side of the building, stepped into view. He dropped his cigarette, putting it out with his foot.

As he did, he took an ample amount of time taking in the girl. She instinctively went to mess with a strand of her hair. He considered her, something shifting behind his eyes. His eyes held a soft longing, but only for a moment. His expression instantly hardened and he regarded her with a nod.

"We need to get a move on if we are going to get anything done." He eyed Jeff suspiciously, "Like now."

Jeff grimaced and the girl turned away from him with an exasperated sigh.

"Fine, I'll go grab everyone else." She complied.

As Tim and Jeff continued to glare each other down, she only felt the pit in her stomach worsen. This was going to be one hell of a night.

As the girl stared into the crowd of flashing colors, she couldn't help but feel like she had come full circle.

The party was about as much as she'd expected it to be. Everything about the place was seedy. A house in the middle of the woods brimming with people and each one had a peculiar look about them. A decent portion of them wore masks. Others, much like Jeff, had mysterious facial scars. Not that she was judging, she'd seen too much in the past few months to care.

Tim and Brian had disappeared into the house not long after they arrived. Jeff, for whatever reason, had insisted he would stay outside. He was so adamant about it that the girl began to question his motives. He had of course tried to get her to stay out there with him but he was officially in the way of her having a good time. So she went in anyway, which brought her back to where she was now.

She stared down the bottom of another empty shot glass like she was looking into a bullet chamber. It was just her and the drink table, which was surrounded by a few questionable individuals. They didn't seem to care, even at the rate she was putting down alcohol. Jen and Becca had vanished from her side about 4 shots in, but at that rate, she had stopped counting.

The synthetic beat thrummed in her ears and she winced. She couldn't tell if it was the music or her constant stream of intrusive thoughts that was causing her head to hurt. The muggy feeling of sweat in the air and the sight of red-solo cups used to be enticing. Now it was just a reminder of where it all began, Harrison's party. It had technically been Halloween when they summoned the demon, sure, but if she hadn't been at Harrison's that night she would never be suspected of his murder. Then maybe she would have done anything else rather than going out into those woods.

She took another shot at the mere thought. The memories of those trees had haunted her more than she'd cared to admit. Over the past few weeks, she dreaded the cycle her thoughts would flit between. The forest, then the teeth of the demon, and most horrifying of all, Cass's body.

She fumbled for another, hoping the sickening sting of vodka would drown out the memories of her friend's innards. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she practically licked the bottom of the glass. She looked down at it angrily as if it were the cup's fault she was out of alcohol. As she did so, frightening images flashed across her vision.

Blood. Cass's blood. Her hands were covered in it.

The glass slipped from her grasp, promptly shattering on the floor. The girl heaved in frantic breaths and examined her hands, disregarding the fallen pieces entirely. The red sheath was gone without a trace and she sighed in relief.

She had way too much to drink, she understood that much. Despite that obvious notion, she couldn't help but feel reluctant to stop.

She lolled her head around to examine her mess. The glass glimmered under the strobing party lights and she had to squint her eyes to see them. As she did so, she noticed the group of people next to her staring her down.

Despite the unsavory crowd, they seemed to eye her like she was crazy. One of them turned to whisper in another's ear and the girl took that as her cue to leave.

What was the one thing Tim had said not to do? Draw attention to herself?

She began to hobble away, although she quickly became aware that the room was spinning. She had to grip the wall and pull herself along. It took a great deal of effort but after a while, she had finally made it to a clearing.

She had found herself in a small hallway with a few people lingering around the outskirts. She held onto the corner as she surveyed them. At the end of the hall, there was a woman with blonde hair on her knees sobbing. Another in a black cocktail dress stood over her, doing her best to comfort her.

Upon squinting her eyes the girl realized that the inconsolable one was Becca. Her foggy brain became slightly clearer at the revelation. The severity of the situation finally began to sink in.

She was able to stand up a little straighter now and began to maneuver her way over to her friend.

"Becca?" She was taken aback by how slurred her words sounded.

Becca's haunched form twitched in recognition and she looked up from her hands.

"(Y/N)..?" She sniffed, glancing at her with glassy eyes.

Her face was completely flushed. She was absolutely shitfaced.

The woman, who was standing next to her, breathed a sigh of relief. The girl lazily turned towards her and was instantly taken aback. The woman was slender, adorned with a black jacket over her dress and most peculiarly of all, a porcelain mask. Her black hair lightly obscured the eyes, which were a sharp black.

The girl nearly fell back at the sight of her. That mask was too much like Tim's and the eyes reminded her of someone she never wanted to think about again.

"So you're the (Y/N) she's been going on about?" The woman's voice was soft and melodic, "She's been crying here for about 10 minutes."

The girl blinked in confusion, her muddled mind trying to grasp her words. She looked down at Becca, who seemed equally bewildered by her surroundings.

The girl cleared her throat, trying to put on a facade of sobriety.

"Yeah, yeah, that's me. What happened to her?" She practically choked on her words.

The woman leaned against the wall, surveying the inebriated pair. Her bangs parted around the mask in such a way that the girl feel like she was staring right through her.

"I found her wandering around yelling for you and someone named Jen. She's been mumbling under her breath for a while now, she's definitely had too much to drink." She stated, gesturing to Becca who let out another sob.

Guilt pooled in the girl's stomach at the sight. If she hadn't been so caught up with herself she could have helped Becca, or better yet, stopped them all from getting separated. Her selfishness clawed through her mind, making quick work of her alcoholic stupor.

"Jen is another friend of ours. We came here.." She paused, having enough self-control to stop herself from admitting too much, "with a group. We all got split up."

The woman nodded, "You don't seem so well yourself."

The girl simply shrugged, causing her to let out a chuckle. The woman crossed her arms, giving the girl a once-over.

"You seem like you're new to these things, right?" She hesitated, "You don't exactly look like you run with this crowd."

The girl pressed her nails to her palms. She'd hoped she would have stood out less, considering the fact this was not somewhere good things happened. She suspected that the party was simply a cover for something, and she didn't want to know what.

"It's true. We came with some friends, they had some business here" The girl admitted, trying to ignore the lump in her throat.

The woman hummed, considering her story.

"I'd get out of here as soon as you can, this isn't the kind of place you want to hang out in. You don't want to stick around too late, trust me." Her voice took on a stern tone.

The girl swallowed dryly. She had no idea where Jen was, let alone Tim or Brian. She wasn't exactly in good enough condition to find them either.

"I don't know where my friends went. We don't plan on staying for long." She chose her words carefully, not knowing what would set the woman off.

"Look, I'll help you find them. You look like you need it." She sighed, straightening herself out.

The girl was taken aback, not sure whether to trust her or not. However, considering the wall was her biggest supporter right now, she wasn't in a position to discard the offer.

She nodded slowly, her words feeling heavy on her tongue, "That would be great."

The woman hummed, seemingly noticing the girl's apprehension. She adjusted herself, trying to appear less threatening.

"I'm Jane, by the way." She pointed an unusually pale finger to her face, "Sorry about the mask. It's just a personal thing."

The girl couldn't help but laugh, feeling her apprehension slip away by the second.

"Trust me, I don't judge. This is normal compared to what I've seen recently." She allowed a small grin to take up her expression.

'Jane' in turn softened at her words. She laughed with the girl, the smile evident in her voice.

"It's the same with everyone in here if you couldn't tell." She mused, "Don't worry, I won't ask your story. It's probably better that way."

The girl's face gave way to a smile, "I appreciate that."

She turned to look at Becca, who was still crumpled on the floor. It appeared she had lost consciousness and the girl frantically dropped down to her side. She patted her face softly, trying to wake her up.

"Come on Becca, stay with me!" She urged, now moving to shake her shoulders.

Jane joined her, kneeling beside her. She examined Becca's state and turned to the girl warily.

"We need to get this girl some water, she's in desperate need." Her tone held a tinge of amusement.

Becca groaned in response and the girl looked at Jane pleadingly. She was in no place to get her friend off the floor, she would soon join her. That much Jane could pick up on and with a sigh, she wrapped her arm around Becca's shoulder. She effortlessly lifted her, one arm slung over her back.

The girl had to take a moment of astonishment, as Jane was not that much taller than she was. She remained on her knees, looking up at Jane like an idiot.

"Oh hun," Jane chuckled, looking between her and Becca's head on her shoulder, "You are so out of it."

Only then did the girl notice she was still on the floor and scrambled to her feet. All she could do was stare at Jane in embarrassment.

"Okay, I will take your friend here to get some water. Why don't you head into the bathroom and splash some water on your face? You are super flushed." The girl could feel her gaze through the mask.

She nodded slowly and Jane used her other hand to point down the hall.

"Once you're done, come meet me at the drink table. It's just down the way you came, I'm sure you can remember."

The girl wasn't sure what happened in the next few moments, but she somehow winded up in the bathroom staring at the mirror. Water dripped down her face and she was able to see a little clearer now. The hum of the music from outside the door still bothered her, but it was much more tolerable now. Jane was right, she had to get it together. She needed to get her priorities in order.

Get Becca, find Jen, get the guys, and get the fuck out of there. It was simple, she could accomplish that at least.

She pushed open the door with a newfound sense of purpose. The room was still hazy but the cold water provided a semblance of clarity. She followed Jane's directions and turned the corner from the hall she had been in. As she wormed her way through another crowd of people, she spotted a familiar face leaning against the wall.

The blonde fluff of Brian's hair was unmistakable, even in the dim lighting.

All at once the girl felt a rush of emotion. His posture framed his body in such a way that she almost fell over. A sense of comfort washed over her and in her drunken mind, he was her savior. All previous wrongdoings discarded, she practically ran into his arms.

"Brian!" She let out a desperate call.

He turned to see her stumbling over to him and couldn't help a bright smile overtaking his features.

"There's my girl!" He seemed shocked when she crashed into him.

He caught her shoulders to stop her from falling. She inadvertently pressed her hands to his chest to steady herself.

"Woah," He held her still, "Damn girl, you are fucked up. Where have you been? I've been lookin' all over for ya."

She ignored his question and let out a dramatic sigh, "I can't find Jen and Becca isn't able to walk. She's such a lightweight, she's destroyed."

Her voice sounded more weepy than she had meant it to. Brian's eyes flashed in amusement as he scanned her over. She looked like a sad puppy, causing his smile to widen.

"Ah, don't worry. I just saw her with Becca. Some nice lady got her some water. Jen told me to come look for you, actually. Tim and I got everything taken care of, we are about ready to get out of here." He reassured her.

She melted, leaning most of her weight on him. Her friends were safe, and that was enough for her storming mind. Brian seemed confused, although he held her up all the same. She felt her limbs getting weaker by the second as all previous energy melted away in her relaxed state.

"Should you even be drinking this much? Don't you only have one kidney?" He spoke up, chuckling softly.

His words were like an anchor falling into an ocean with all her troublesome thoughts returning. The demon had permanently mauled her, but at least he'd made good on his word. It had caused her no trouble. Under the circumstances, she should be dead by now, but there she stood.

"It's probably fine. I've been drinking a shit ton of energy drinks for weeks and it hasn't killed me yet. Probably some weird demon magic." She shrugged her shoulders idly.

He laughed softly, not bothering to argue any further. However, he couldn't deny that he was concerned for her. Her gaze seemed like it was far off, even for being inebriated. She gripped onto him frantically, as if she were afraid he'd let her go.

"You' doing ok?" His voice was gentle, although his brows were furrowed.

She flinched at the question as she knew she wouldn't be able to hold back. She bit her lip in an attempt to stop the flood that would soon spill from her mouth.

"I just have a lot on my mind." She began, settling into his arms.

He didn't push the subject, allowing her time to stare off into the distance. The beat of the music hummed in the back of her mind as she thought things over. Jeff had been right about one thing, she should have never had anything to drink. All she could think about was the blood she'd imagined, the images flashing through her mind like a PowerPoint presentation. The feeling of his gentle touch was the only thing between her and the intrusive thoughts, so she gave in to it.

She clenched her teeth together as she felt tears prickle in her eyes. She leaned her chin on his chest lazily, trying to avoid eye contact. A light blush dusted his cheeks immediately and he had to remind himself it was just the alcohol talking. Blinking them away seemed futile and the tears soon poured down her cheeks.

"Hey, hey, it's gonna be ok." He stroked her back awkwardly, "What's going on?"

She could barely speak through how tight her jaw was wound. Her gaze remained plastered on his shirt.

She thought back to the time they had spent together and how he had been the only person to make her laugh. Despite it being such a short period, she'd grown attached to both him and Tim. She knew Tim had tried to kill her, although it wasn't his fault; but all of that was meaningless now. She was going to die either way, she knew it.

"I wish things were different." She mumbled, her voice cracking.

His heart nearly broke as she looked up at him with those sad eyes.

"I wish that I could have met you in some other way and that we could have just been normal friends. I wish I was back home right now, preparing for midterms like every other student." She laughed grimly, "God, you know I never thought I'd see a day I'd rather be at school."

He managed a soft smile in an attempt to cheer her up. His hand moved to pat her shoulder gently.

"Hah, believe me, I would have much preferred to meet you under different circumstances."

He laughed to himself, looking into the distance wistfully.

"If we had met in a college, that would have been a blast. I would have taken you out to some normal parties, not this shady bullshit." He gestured around them, "I would bet money you are a blast to party with."

She chuckled, looking down, "More or less. You'd probably have to carry me out."

His grin widened, "And I would do it. Although, getting this wasted here wasn't the best move. Even if I'm here with you."

He gave her a meaningful look and she sighed. She felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment, realizing how crazy she'd been acting.

He noticed this, his expression softening.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I think you needed a break." He gave her a wink.

She started to laugh, the giggles progressively getting worse. Break or not, this hadn't been her smartest move. However, this was the best she'd felt all night. She couldn't help herself from imagining the pair of them at a party in her college town. She thought about him bringing her a drink and them talking and dancing without a care in the world. The laughter quickly turned to tears, although this time, they were happy ones.

"Thank you, Brian." She looked back at him with watery eyes.

He laughed with her, lifting a hand to ruffle her hair. He stared at her with a soft gaze as he touseled the strands.

"Don't worry about it. I think you needed to talk."

His hand remained in its place, gently cupping her head. She quickly became aware of how close they were, her body tenderly intertwined with his. Each place they were connected was alight with encroaching heat and she began to notice the way his thumb stroked her scalp. His blue eyes stared deeply into hers. They were an ocean that contrasted her hurricane of thoughts, and she leaned in closer for a better look.

The faint purple and blue lights framed his face, and she began to admire each small feature. He gazed at her as if she were the only thing that mattered at that moment. She barely had time to realize what she was doing as she kissed him softly.

The feel of his velvety lips was intoxicating and she was struck with a sudden bravery. She deepened the kiss, pressing herself further into him. His back hit the wall with a soft thud as he momentarily allowed himself to become lost in her.

This was short-lived, however, as he finally registered what was happening. He pulled away from her, still gripping her shoulders. She looked at him in confusion, her expression almost hurt.

"We can't do this." He said firmly, although his eyes still held a tinge of longing.

Her lip trembled slightly, "Why not?"

She hated how wounded she sounded. His thumb brushed her shoulder reassuringly.

"Because, (Y/N), you're drunk. You don't know what you are doing." He explained with a sigh.

She despised how sound his logic was. She knew this was bad. She knew it was awful she felt this way about him, but she couldn't help herself. If the alcohol had done one thing, it had made her feel incredibly honest.

"But this is what I want." The crack in her voice only emphasized this.

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes flashing with confliction.

"Believe me, I want it too." He reiterated gently, "But this isn't right."

She continued to look at him, her expression crestfallen. His care for her only made it worse. He shifted his hands to her arms and leaned in closer again.

"Maybe another time when you're sober, okay?"

To her surprise, he planted his lips on her cheek. She shivered under his touch, the action causing her chest to ache. She wished he wasn't so kind. She nodded slowly, understanding it was for the best.

The peace was short-lived because right as she did so an angry voice shattered the silence.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The girl whipped around to find Jeff standing at the end of the hallway with a furious expression on his face. She instantly stepped away from Brian, startled by his sudden appearance.

He stormed over to her, staring at her accusingly, "Are you fucking serious right now? I came in here to make sure you weren't dead and you are drunk off your ass throwing yourself at this guy?"

She was stunned by this, as he had been determined to wait outside. Of course of all times, he had to find her then. She couldn't understand why he insisted on sticking with her.

"Don't give me that, I don't need you to protect me. I can handle myself." She shot back, glaring daggers at him.

Brian stepped up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "She's an adult, she can make her own decisions. The way you follow her around is fucking creepy."

This set him off as Jeff instantly swatted Brian's hand off of her. His lips were turned down into a scowl, making his scars stretch menacingly.

"Get your hands off her, she doesn't know what's going on right now." He asserted with malice.

The girl scoffed, standing between them as best she could.

"He wasn't doing anything!" She defended, her eyes boring into his.

"Yeah, it sure didn't look like it." Jeff shot back.

He kept his eye trained on Brian, who was glaring in return. They began to argue, and each word that poured from their mouths swirled through her mind. Their shouting forms reminded her of Becca's harsh words from earlier. The way she looked at her with such an accusatory expression mirrored the way they fought now.

She didn't need anyone to defend her. She didn't deserve to be defended. Perhaps if she stood by her friends, the situation wouldn't have gotten this deep. The guilt tore through her veins like a raging beast and she felt her heart beat faster.

Cass, Becca, Jen.

They were the ones who she should have protected. She was smart, she was a fucking psychology student for that matter. How could she not handle this pressure? Their faces danced through her consciousness until she could stand it no longer.

She started to run.

She ran through the crowds of people until she had surfaced into fresh air again. She continued on, even when the branches of trees began to surround her like a landscape from a painting. The forest should have been a warning sign, she should know better than to dash head-first into what was waiting out there. But she didn't care anymore.

She ran until her legs had become sand falling through an hourglass. She fell to her knees, the trees staring down at her as if they were a crowd of leering onlookers. The alcohol that coursed through her body had finally taken its toll and her eyes were growing heavy. Despite this, her mind was flashing in alarm. She was alone in the woods. She couldn't lose her strength now.

However, it was too late. Her body crashed into the dirt, sending stray pieces of snow cascading around her. The moon above began to flicker in and out like a dying flame. Time had become fluid and she couldn't be sure how long she had before she was out for good.

As she was about to lose herself, she saw something approaching in the distance. The figure flashed in and out of her gaze. Perhaps it wasn't even there. Yet as they stared down at her, the ice in her veins confirmed it.

A sickening voice was heard through the fog of her mind, "Oh my little bird, what have you gotten yourself into?"

Next Part

#creepypasta #eyeless jack #bloody painter #helen otis #ticci toby #toby rodgers #jeffery woods #jeff the killer #marble hornets #tim wright #brian thomas #x reader #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x female reader #female reader #writing #x fem!reader

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mean-scarlet-deceiver · 6 months ago

Text

Iost this one somewhere in my drafts, but this is in answer to the anon whose ask was along the lines of What are your thoughts on Thomas and Percy?

Classic Third Era (see below). Lookit Perce's sad face. Lookit how they nerfed my unsinkable boy. Or maybe Percy's just getting old and that's why he's constantly pouting to Thomas? 🤭

I think the most intriguing part of 1+6 is when we have to reconcile TVS - where they are bffs, best bros, etc. - and RWS - where the Ffarquhar trio is very much a trio and, if anything, Percy seems to gel a bit more with Toby than with Thomas. (Percy and Toby are usually laughing together. Percy and Thomas are usually squabbling.)

I tend to just use the latter-series TVS portrayal and connect it on the end of the RWS timeline. Like connext blocks.

~1927-~1955: Percy arrives as Tidmouth station pilot, Thomas runs his branch line 🤔

~1955-~1991: Thomas, Percy, and Toby are in their classic Ffarquhar line era 💖

~1991-???: Expansion of the railway, the fleet, and TTTE fame - the Thomas and Percy BEST FRIENDSHIP era 🎬

The second period is self-explanatory and obvious from the text.

The third period feels... kinda performative. I've spoken elsewhere of my interpretation of Thomas's character shift (seen most clearly in Season 3 of the TV series): I think he realised just how big a deal he was, fame-wise; felt a genuine and somewhat insecure sense that now he had a duty to be A Good Role Model; kinda laid it on too thick in some ways but that's just his fundamental character, this is the sort of thing he takes seriously. <3 I've joked before about how this is the era where Thomas acquires a Word of the Day calendar. But it's not a joke... He definitely has been using one.

Anyway the third era feels a lot like him and Percy consciously using their own relationship to model Friendship Lessons for the Children. It's sincere and it's sweet and it's... kinda funny because it's really not them. Like they are ride-and-die for each other. But in this era they're always "on" (there's a camera or an adoring kid fan everywhere!) and they keep trying to saw off their own rough edges and it's just not who they really are (esp. Percy). But dammit they are both gonna try to be Positive Influences.

The first period is by far the most intriguing. That's over 20 years where, honestly, I don't see any sign that the two are particularly close... and I don't wish to imagine they were, either. There are many other engines on this railway, remember; I'm perfectly fine with these two only really starting to buddy it up once Percy is no longer tethered to the Big Station.

And it's really interesting to try to fill in that gap. What must they have thought of each other at first? (They seem to have such vastly different life experiences.) Did Thomas do his classic TVS "irrational jealousy" thing with Percy? (I think so!)

I like to think Percy was sometimes baffled at how sheltered Thomas was and had to teach him all sorts of new curse words.

I like to think Thomas thought Percy was really funny with his lightning-fast switches to sweet and innocent around human staff and a cheeky little ***** to the big engines. I think Thomas probably got humbled a couple times, trying to boss Percy around and discovering it wasn't so easy for HIM to do. (Eventually the big engines are bossing Percy around but it took them literally over twenty years before they wore him down.)

I also think Percy was better at expressing sympathy than Thomas and Thomas definitely got jealous sometimes when he saw Percy saying nice things to HIS friends - like just right to their faces, without cracking a joke at the same time - which Thomas at the time was just not capable of doing. And he'd hate that.

I have a bit of a headcanon that during WWII there was a period where Thomas and Percy had to swap assignments. The shunting work would have been too heavy for Percy - Thomas had to be recalled to the job. He didn't take it out on Percy though, it was the war and there was real danger in the air and everything, Thomas just did his bit, in fact once he saw the danger he felt it was right that he was there and not Percy. But he was still very depressed by it - his world on the verge of destruction and he's stuck back in the shunting yards all the while. And Percy felt bad about it, too (though he's always, I think, quicker to bounce back than Thomas is).

Ultimately what I wrote about these two long ago still stands: Thomas had a long-unmet big-brother complex where he needs to be needed, Percy had long-unmet little-brother complex where he just wanted to be bloody looked after for once. So it's interesting to try to flesh out this early era before 1955, when they were both slowly unraveling each other and finding these hidden parts of themselves that actually fit together SO. WELL.

Sometimes... a little too well!

#chatter #ttte #ttte thomas #ttte percy #1+6 #and toby too (:#fun on the ffarquhar

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fredswrite · 8 months ago

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Hey hi hello!! I'm back😀 And was wondering if you could have the time to do a Minho fic where they reunited at safe haven (newt lives, chuck lives bc I said so😼jk) and they aren't used to as.. modern stuff? Like actual beds, bathrooms, and such?

(if ur able to, I wouldn't mind some spic😼)

Thank you!!

SUMMARY: A sunny afternoon in the same haven turned into something completely different when you saw your friends come back, Minho with them.

WC: 1,9k

A/N: YES YES YES, that’s so cute and I literally had something like that in my drafts and that was my motivation to publish it. You always serve with your reqs 🫨 I love making Minho a sweetheart in my fics because ik for a fact that under all that sass is a hurt little boy. So sorry you had to wait this long.

WARNINGS: SMUT, not protected piv (wrap it before you tap it), lonnnngg intro. MDNI!! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION.

I MISSED YOU

After the failed attempt of rescuing Minho on the train, all your hopes flew away. You were desperate to find him again, yet you knew the chances were low. Wicked controlled everything and unless they caught you too, Minho was already far from you.

You helped Sonya and Aris get over their capture, Harriet and Chuck with you, but it just felt wrong to do it without Minho. Thomas was desperate too, but not the same as you. He knew they could save Minho, he believed that there was still hope for him.

So when he told you he was going to leave with Newt and Fry, you hesitated a long time before refusing. If they came back with Minho, it would be great, but if they were to find his dead body, you didn’t want to be there.

The night they decided to rescue him, you couldn’t sleep and so did Brenda and Jorge who joined them later on. Weeks passed and still, you got no idea if they had found something. Jorge shared a talkie-walkie with Vince in the safe haven to inform him whenever something was wrong.

Yet, what Vince knew was kept a secret from you and all the other immunes. He would sometimes go in the opposite direction as you because he knew that if you begged long enough you would get the information you craved for and that, he couldn’t give you.

His job was to make sure everyone here felt safe, and after his loss of Mary, he didn’t want to give away any information.

One night, you were staring at the sundown through the beach. Your thoughts confused with one another, but that’s when he arrived next to you with a concerned expression clear on his face.

"Newt’s injured." He told you and that’s what caused you to jump in the berg to the last city. You didn’t know what caused it, but you knew it was about him not being Immune. Chuck stayed here, uninformed of the danger his friend was in.

You flew so fast that soon enough, you found all your friends lying around a lifeless Newt, a knife in his chest. The questions you had all came flooding down when you saw Minho. He was alive, not looking very well, but he was there and crying over his friend.

You ran out of the berg as they looked at you, a shy smile came across their lips as they saw you for the first time in weeks. And Minho didn’t even move, his friend died, or so he thought.

You crouched to his side and that’s when he noticed you. After being tortured for months, he saw his light, the person that helped him stay sane. When he was in pain, he thought of you. Your hair and your face, your arms around his, your fingers linked with yours.

"Minho..." You whispered falling into his arms as you both stayed there, looking at your Newt. The Asian had just got out of the building, only to see his friend turn into a crank, to meet again with Gally and You.

You did know Gally was still alive because when Thomas found out, he let Vince know, who told you. You never truly liked or disliked him, all you knew was that he made some bad choices, but that couldn’t define someone.

No one spoke for what seemed like an eternity before Jorge let out a sigh. "We need to go, Thomas’s in pretty good shit."

"We can’t leave him here!" You let out, talking of the British boy.

"Just take him in." Vince declared and you did with the help of Fry and Minho.

A flicker of hope grew when you remembered Teresa’s message through the city. How his blood was the cure, how he could have saved Newt. But maybe, he did. The knife had Thomas’s on it before it crashed into Newt’s abdomen.

You kept your thoughts to yourself, hoping they would turn out to be true.

Helping Thomas out of that burning building wasn’t easy and it led to the sacrifice of Teresa. The last time you saw her was during her betrayal, not the best memories you had.

Thomas was bloody and dripping from sweat as he fell unconscious in the berg. You were silent as you stared at the ground among the chatter of other people. Minho sat next to you, sharing the silence.

"Where are we going? The right harm burned." He wondered, looking into your teary eyes.

"Safe Haven" a low chuckle escaped your lips, "Vince made it, we helped him."

A week passed since you rescued Minho. You showed him your little hut that some people had earned, others had hammock. It reminded you a lot of the Glade, but this time you were free and you weren’t tested for your blood.

Your prediction was right, Newt did survive. He got out of his crank state with the cure, Thomas’s blood. The knife had apparently both their blood on it, making the blonde stay alive. He was so confused the first days. that Thomas would spend all his time telling him what happened, what he missed and sometimes not telling the part where he almost killed him.

The boy healed slowly, but he would probably get heart problems for the rest of his life. He couldn’t do instance activities, in the prevent of it beating too fast for what he could handle. Yet he was always smiling, Thomas probably the cause of it. Not gonna lie, you always thought they were great together.

On a sunny afternoon, you walked back to your favourite spot in the safe haven one where you were sure to be left alone, but Minho found you anyway.

"I really missed you." You told him, changing your gaze from the sea to him. He looked so peaceful with his hair still wet and his blue-collar shirt. With all the torture he went through and the trauma he suffered with it, he gained some weight. Yet, it could only make you love him more. He didn’t have to run as much as he used to, but he sometimes went anyway just because he missed the feeling.

You said you would go on a run with him one day, but not if it was to be humiliated because you were so slow compared to him. "I missed Chuck more." He joked with a chuckle.

You gave him a gentle punch on the shoulder. "Hey." You faked to be hurt, making him smile. He kept the look in his eyes as he stared at your lips and the soft smile on them. "So really what’s this Safe Haven all about?" He asked.

"Rescuing Immunes kids, building our own home away from the rest of the world. While the rest of the world is in catastrophe, at least we’re all here together."

"I guess so." He simply nodded. It was clear that there was something he wasn’t telling you, but you wouldn’t go digging for it. He’d always needed time for himself, hiding under his sassy attitude.

"You know, I really wanted to go with the others to look out for you, I did." You let out a deep sigh as he looked at you with a look you’d never seen before.

"But I was scared, scared of what I would have found if you didn’t make it. I was terrified of losing you and if I did, I didn’t want to see it. I wanted to remember only the good times in the glades, not when you got kidnapped-"

He cut you off even if there were so many more things to say. His hand took yours and gripped it firmly in a strong and comforting hold.

"It doesn’t matter now, we’re both safe here with everyone. Look at Thomas and Newt, they’ve never been happier. Frypan still has his cooking skills and Gally his alcohol recipe. Chuck’s always smiling while Brenda and Jorge act as the babysitter."

He stopped his words to bring his other hand to your cheeks, cupping it softly and holding you closer.

"And you and me, we’re gonna be there for each other no matter what shuckface." You let out a chuckle at the nickname, earning a smile.

"You and me." You nodded before closing the gap between your lips, taking your hand to his hair only you could touch.

The kiss was gentle as from time to time you would smile against his lips. His mouth was warm and his skin got goosebumps every time your fingers brushed his jaw. His free hand, which used to spread his thigh raised to meet your hips, holding it firmly.

Your other hands were still closed together as he brushed his thumb against your knuckles. You were hidden in a place on the beach only you knew about, so the luck of someone seeking you both was low.

A soft giggle passed past your teeth as he placed you in his lap with his two hands now travelling up your back over your shirt. You felt something hardening under your thigh and you couldn’t help but smile at the effect you had on him.

Minho let out a small gasp as you instantly pressed against his hardening cock, teasing his limits. "You want to play this game shuckface, huh?"

He expertly twisted you around so that your back lay in the sand, his figure against you. He buried his face in the crook of your next, leaving sweet kisses along your pulse point and sucking at it. A soft moan parted from your lips as you gripped his back tighter.

"Minho.."Your breathing was coming out harshly when his hands travelled up your stomach, under your shirt, and reached your breast. Underwears were rare in the Safe Haven so he was glad to find you weren’t wearing a bra.

"All for me huh?" In a swift motion, he took your clothes over your shoulder, drinking at the sight of your exposed skin. His thumbs explored them both, pressing a hard but gentle squeeze with his hands.

You let out a soft moan as you gripped his shoulder, digging your nails into his neck. You brought him closer, before kissing him passionately again.

"So needy."

He added and soon his shirt lay with yours. His kisses continue their assaults on your lips, going down your neck to your belly button. A soft giggle passed past your lips as you got a tickle.

He played with the waistband of your jeans, ready to tear them aside as he waited for your approval. "You sure you want this dollface?"

"Please… Wanna see you all."

He smirked and expertly unzipped the zip of your bottom. As soon as they were past your toes, he spotted the wet spot on your cunt. No underwear again.

"God, you’re so pretty."

You let out a sigh of relief when his nose inhaled your scent. You clung to his hair, wanting him closer, wanting his body against yours.

He stood up before taking his pants off, with his boxer. Minho would find a way to always have underwear anyway, he couldn’t imagine running without any. Ew.

"Spread wide." He requested and you did so. You were answered by his hard member folding you open. You were confused with both pain and pleasure.

"Atta girl."

As he knocked the stars out of you, you let out a deep sigh when he hit that spongy spot again. You knew you were in for a long time.

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