#being in the same room as him like shouting and acting and running around and giving like 110%

[twofoxes]

The one, the only... Lt. Croy <3

What a freaking scene-stealer this one. We were really not expecting to board the Halcyon and immediately fall in love with a First Order officer and all start regretting our decisions to support the Resistance. Next cruise (and there WILL be a next cruise) I’m ABSOLUTELY going to try to do the First Order questline, as... morally... as I can? We’ll see, I guess lol

[coolemmasulivan2]

Back on Track

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: After a fight with Lando, you’re nowhere to be found when he leaves for Austin, making him fear the relationship is over. But when you arrive at the track with Max, he gets a second chance to make things right, and the two of you reconcile.

Word count: 2061

Even though we're going through it And it makes you feel alone Just know that I would die for you Baby, I would die for you, yeah

You and Lando rarely fought. You’d been together since his final season in Formula 2, a bloody long time, and you could count the big fights on one hand. But this one was different. This was the worst of them all.

It was his last day at home before flying to Austin, and somehow everything went down.

"You're being clingy!" He shouted, running a hand through his messy curls, frustration etched on his face.

You stared at him, stunned. "I’m being clingy? Me? Lando, we’ve been together for years, and I have never asked you for anything. The one time I do, and this is what you say? Wow."

"Yeah, well, you’ve never acted like this before!" His face hardened, eyes sparking with irritation you weren’t used to. "Seriously, if you suddenly want some boyfriend who’ll sit around every night, watching dumb TV shows and cuddling you to sleep, maybe you should find someone else."

You shook your head, disbelief morphing into something different, something more hurt. "Maybe I should do that!"

He was beyond pissed. "Then please, do! I'm going out and I'll do the same." He turned, grabbing his jacket without a second glance. and strode out, slamming the door shut behind him.

You flinched at the echo, the silence crashing down around you as tears started to well up. "I hate you, Lando Norris." You whispered into the emptiness of the apartment.

Lando sat in the VIP section of his favorite Monaco club, gazing blankly over the crowded dance floor. The music pulsed, people laughed and danced, but his thoughts were miles away, thinking of you.

Max leaned in, breaking Lando’s trance. "Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to drag it out of you?" Lando shrugged. "Was it that bad?"

Lando sighed, his gaze distant. "It was! It was the worst fight we’ve ever had." He swallowed, the words bitter. "She probably thinks I’m cheating on her right now."

Max’s eyebrows shot up. "What are you talking about? Why would she think that?"

"Because, I pretty much said that." Lando muttered lound enough for Max to hear over the music.

Max looked at him, incredulous. "Why the hell would you say that, you absolute idiot? You love her."

Lando exhaled heavily. "I was angry! I didn’t even think. I just… said it. I realized how bad it sounded the second I left."

Max shook his head, staring at him with a mix of pity and frustration. "Well, congratulations: you’re an idiot!"

"Thanks for the information."

It was late when Lando finally got home. The apartment was dark, and silence filled the rooms. He stepped into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, his mind caught between whether he should crash on the sofa or swallow his pride, apologize, and lie beside you.

He waked to the closed bedroom door, standing there for a long moment, nerves filling his body. His hand hovered over the doorknob, but he stopped himself. He stepped back and with the sting of guilt he fell down on the sofa.

You were deep asleep when a hand shook your shoulder. Groggily, you opened your eyes to see your best friend sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes barely open, hair rumpled from sleep.

"What?"

She yawned, rubbing her eyes before looking at you. "Your phone won’t stop ringing."

Blinking, you glanced at the empty nightstand, remembering you’d left your phone in the living room. "What time is it?" You muttered. "It’s probably Lando. We were supposed to leave for Austin early."

She groaned, pulling a pillow over her head and laying down next to you. "Then answer it or turn it off. It’s too early for this, and I’m exhausted."

"She rejected my call!" Lando exclaimed, pacing back and forth in the apartment.

Max raised an eyebrow. "That’s good news."

"How is that good?"

"At least we know she’s okay." He said. "And still mad at you, which is probably deserved."

"I don’t even know if she was still here when I got home last night. The bedroom door was closed, and I just… crashed on the sofa. I only realized she was gone this morning."

Max nodded thoughtfully. "So, what’s the plan now?"

“I don’t know,” Lando groaned, slumping into a chair, rubbing his hands over his face. "The team’s going to kill me if I miss this flight."

"So go!" Max said firmly.

Lando looked up, shaking his head. "No way. I’m not leaving without her."

Max rolled his eyes. "Look, she knows you have to leave, Lando. Sooner or later, she’s coming back, and when she does, I’ll bring her to Austin myself. Just go."

"What if she refuses to go?"

"She loves you. She'll want t make things right. Trust me!"

Lando hesitated. "You promise?"

"I promise."

You slipped into the apartment two hours later, knowing Lando would be gone by now. The silence felt heavy as you shut the door, but before you could make it to the kitchen, Max appeared, stepping out from Lando’s streaming room.

You jumped, clutching your chest. "Max! What the hell? You scared me!"

"Sorry!" He said, raising his hands in apology.

"What are you doing here? Is Lando still here?" You glanced around, half expecting him to walk out from somewhere.

"He left. Had to, or he’d have missed his flight."

You made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and taking a long sip. "I thought you were going with him."

"I am. I was just waiting for you."

You looked at him, understanding dawning slowly. "Max, I don’t think going with you is a good idea." You sank into a chair at the small dining table, and Max sat across from you.

"That’s not true."

"Max, you don’t know how he treated me, the things he said…" You swallowed, voice shaking. "He told me I should find someone else. And said he would, too."

Max leaned forward, shaking his head. "Look, he was furious and stupid. Belive me, I know what he said, and he regrets every word. He didn’t even want to leave. I practically had to drag him onto the helicopter."

Tears pricked at your eyes. "Max, I don't know."

"He’s an idiot, but he’s an idiot in love with you. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone, Y/N. He’s been calling you non-stop, hoping you’d pick up, and he’s completely torn up about it. So please, come with me. Let’s go to Austin."

Lando had been unusually quiet all day. Practice had gone well, but not well enough; the Ferraris were ahead, and so was Verstappen. His mind should’ve been on the upcoming sprint qualifying, but all he could think about was you and the fight. He could only hope that Max was somehow convincing you to come to Austin.

"Everything alright? You’ve been quiet, which is… not like you." Oscar asked, glancing over at Lando as they wrapped up filming a video for McLaren’s social media.

"Just tired." Lando muttered.

Oscar hesitated, then asked gently. "Where’s Y/N? Lily told me she was coming."

Lando’s jaw tensed, his eyes flicking up to meet Oscar’s. "I… don’t think she’s coming." He admitted, his voice low. "I messed things up pretty badly."

Oscar raised his eyebrows. "Want to talk about it?"

Lando shook his head, leaning back and closing his eyes. "Not really. Just… hoping I haven’t lost her." He said, more to himself than to Oscar.

Lando was suiting up, pulling on his gloves and securing his helmet, trying to lock his focus onto the upcoming sprint qualifying. But the knot of anxiety in his stomach hadn’t eased since he arrived, knowing he might have to go through this entire weekend without you there.

Just then, Max appeared in front of him, grinning. "Hey, mate. Just came by to wish you luck. And, by the way…" Max lowered his voice, glancing over his shoulder. "She’s here."

"Fuck... thank you for bringing her."

There, standing quietly near the corner, arms crossed and headphones on, was you. You looked a little nervous, a shy expression on your face and when your eyes met, you quickly looked away.

A wave of relief fell over him, and he instinctively took a step forward, desperate to close the space between you. But Max put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

"Not now." Max warned. "You’ve got a sprint to think about. You can talk to her after."

"But—" Lando began, his eyes darting back to you, a urge to apologize.

A couple of mechanics also intercepted him, nudging him toward the car with hurried reminders. "We’re starting in a few, Lando."

Lando clenched his jaw, glancing back at you. Taking a deep breath, Lando slipped into the car, his heart beating a little steadier, his mind clearing. For the first time all day, he felt ready. You were here and that was everything.

You watched the qualifying from the garage, heart pounding with every lap. It was always like this: nerve-wracking, pride and fear as you watched him push himself and the car to the limit. But today, your chest felt even tighter, knowing the tension lingering between you.

When the session ended, Lando finished fourth. Relief mixed with a bit of pride washed over you as you clapped, your gaze fixed on him as he came into the garage.

The moment he spotted you, he didn’t hesitate. He strode over and without a word, he reached for your hand, gently but firmly, and led you out of the garage toward his driver’s room, ignoring the curious glances around you.

Once inside, he closed the door. "Y/N… Babe, I’m so sorry."

You looked down, your arms wrapping around yourself. "You hurt me, Lando. You didn’t just walk away, you made me feel like I was… too much."

He stepped closer, reaching for your hand again. "I was an idiot. I don’t even know why I said those things. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. None of it was true. You’re not ‘too much.’ You’re… everything to me."

"I thought you didn’t want me anymore."

He swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. "That could never be true. I can’t imagine any of this, my life, racing, anything, without you." He brushed a stray tear from your cheek. "I was terrified you wouldn’t come. That I’d ruined everything."

You took a shaky breath. "Max convinced me… told me you didn’t want to leave, that you were just… scared of losing me."

"More than you know." He said, his hand holding yours firmly. "Please forgive me, Y/N. I’ll spend as long as it takes making it up to you."

"I don't want you to give up anything, Lando."

"I know. I know. That's not what you asked me."

After a long moment, you squeezed his hand. "I’m here now." You said softly. "Let’s just start with that."

Relief flooded his face as he wrapped you in his arms, holding you close, as if he never wanted to let go. "I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m grateful you’re here. I don’t want to mess this up ever again."

You gave him a gentle smile, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. "I didn’t come all this way to hold onto what happened. Let’s just… move forward. Together."

He smiled. "Together."

A knock on the door interrupted the moment. "Lando?" A team member called from the hallway. "They need you back in the garage in five!"

Lando glanced back toward the door, then returned his gaze to you, clearly torn. "Go!" You murmured. "I’ll be here when you’re done. I’m not going anywhere."

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. You melted into it, letting the last of the hurt dissolve in his warmth.

When he pulled back, he looked at you with a smile . "I’ll be quick." He said, squeezing your hand before reluctantly letting it go and heading toward the door. Just as he opened it, he paused, glancing over his shoulder one last time. "I love you."

"I love you too." You whispered.

[bayjaruchel]

Strawberry Blond

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Pairing: Peeta Mellark/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Late one night, you get a call. (4.7k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

－－－

You know that your relationship can never be normal. 

Even now, when you technically should have peace of mind— and you're out of the arena, out of the Games— there's still the ugly truth that lies beneath it all. The Victor's Village is beautiful in comparison to the rest of District Twelve, but because of the reason why you earned a residence here, you're not sure if you'll ever truly enjoy it. Brick houses with plenty of room, and yet yours is still far too empty, even if you have your family to keep you company. 

Peeta lives alone in his. 

There's always smoke coming from the chimney, and he keeps most, if not all of the lights on. The only room that occasionally has its lights off is his, which is on the second floor. You've woken up in the middle of the night many times and glimpsed the shining evidence that he's still awake. It's not like you get perfect sleep yourself— but you worry, sometimes. 

You do visit him, sometimes. But you've never knocked on his door when it's nighttime. You're not entirely sure why that is; maybe it's because you're afraid of what the cool silence will bring. Maybe it's too intimate. Neither of you are strangers to intimacy, and you've definitely maintained a little of that, but … There's still a certain distance. Away from the cameras, you still struggle to discern what's real and what's not. 

The way he looks at you is certainly real. 

You don't know if you'll ever feel exactly the same way towards him. 

Sure, you do like him. A lot. He makes it easy. He's the type of guy that you could bring home to your parents. He's the type of guy that one would want to come home to every day. Of course, he's a little more reserved, and his eyes are duller, but— he's still Peeta. He's still the baker's boy. Deep down, he'll never lose what made you— and all of the Capitol— fall in love with him. 

Is it really love, though? Or is it just admiration? 

It's something that you think about a lot. You've never said those three words to him when not in front of an audience. And he knows that on those specific occasions, it wasn't real. It was just an act. Maybe when he kissed you, he wasn't acting. Maybe when he looked at you and said those lovely things to you, he wasn't acting. 

You can dream. You can hope. 

However, most of your actual dreams nowadays are just nightmares.  

No golden boy is holding you, shielding you from the awful weather. There's no bright, happy future in which everything turned out right. And there's none of those strange, albeit interesting dreams where your house is upside down and your teacher at school is telling you that somehow, you've suddenly graduated and you're being sent off to the Capitol to become one of them. 

Instead, there's just fire. 

Tonight, you dream of fire. 

Burning bodies that fall from the highest trees. You can vaguely make out who they are— there's a sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach, a primal guilt. Everything around you is blazing, and you know you should try and get out, but your feet are frozen, rooted to the spot. You can't move, even as the flames begin to lick around your ankles. Even if you did run, you wouldn't be able to escape. This has been a long time coming, hasn't it? 

Despite the almost blinding brightness emanating from the fire, everything else is foggy and dark. The only thing you can focus on is the corpses, the trees, and everything coming down around you. Someone shouts your name, but it's muffled like you're underwater. You fail to register it fast enough. 

A scream, crystal-clear. 

You whip around, and there it is. The evidence of your failure. You're helpless to do anything— you can only watch— more screaming, more yelling, more pleads for help— 

There is so, so much blood— 

You're awake, and the blistering heat is gone. 

Gasping, you sit up, struggling for breath. It keeps catching in your throat. Your heart's pounding at a pace that makes your head spin. Dizzy, disorienting. But it used to be worse than this. 

At least you don't wake up sobbing anymore. 

This is still awful, though. Trembling, you wrap your arms around yourself, attempting to regain control. In, out. In, out. Your lungs shudder with the effort, but you keep going. Despite the comfortable warmth of the house, there's still goosebumps prickling up and down your bare skin. Your arms. Your neck. The sheets are tangled around your waist and legs; you almost feel trapped. 

There's no point in closing the curtains, since virtually nobody is in the streets, and the other inhabitants of the Village couldn't possibly look through your windows. When you glance out of the one nearest to your bed, it's almost pitch-black outside. There are no street lamps, after all. You try to focus on the cold, empty houses to distract yourself. 

Finally, your breath slows. Your pulse calms. 

You're still shaking, faintly, but your knees don't give out when you detangle yourself from your blankets and slip out of bed. You consider that a minor victory. 

Taking care not to make too much noise, you head downstairs. The polished stone is cold underneath your feet, but it's grounding, in a way. It settles you back down to earth. For a short while, you frequently lost your way due to the sheer size of the house, but now you know the quickest route to the kitchen by heart. Even when half-asleep, you know exactly where to go. 

The light flicks on with a quiet buzz when you gently press the switch. 

Quietly, you wonder if the ultimate prize for winning the Games was running water. It's cold, as it splashes over your fingers and into the basin. There are plenty of pristine, artisan glasses and whatnot in the overhead cabinets— probably made in District One— but you always reach for the mugs you had before. The ones with a couple of cracks and dents littering their bodies— evidence of their long lifespans. 

You lean against the counter as you take a long gulp of water. It's pleasant, the feeling pooling low in your chest. 

The silence used to be unnerving, but now, you welcome it with open arms. 

You take another, smaller sip from your mug. Maybe you'll be able to sleep for another few hours. Until the sun rises, at least. Then, you can take a walk. You can wander around all you like here, provided that you don't stray too far. Regardless, you're sure nobody will be too concerned about that. Haymitch is the sole man responsible for the lax rules concerning the victors. 

You're still not sure if you like him or not. 

Slowly, you finish your drink. But, just as you're ready to set it into the sink and head back upstairs—

—the phone's ringing. 

You can hear it pretty clearly, even if it's muffled. 

Who could be calling at this hour? Furrowing your brow, you put down the mug and start heading down the hallway, towards the study. You're well aware that Haymitch tore his phone out of the wall ages ago, so it couldn't be him. Nobody from your District calls you, either. And if you get any calls from outside the District, they're usually during the daytime. Not at two-ish in the morning. The Capitol may be invasive, but they're not that invasive. They need their beauty rest, you figure.  

So, taking all of that into consideration, that only leaves— 

"Peeta?" You mutter, upon picking up the phone. 

There's a beat of silence. 

"Hello," he replies. 

It's a bit hard to tell over the line, but he sounds nearly as groggy as you. Delicately, you shut the door of the study behind you with a quiet click. Just in case. 

"Is something wrong?" You allow yourself to be a little louder, now that there's a barrier between you and the rest of the house. "Couldn't sleep?" 

"Something like that." There's a slight rustling. "I mean— nothing new, right?" Even though you know he meant it as a joke, the grim truth makes it fall flat. 

Still, you breathe out a quiet laugh. "Nothing's changed." Affixing your gaze on one of the chairs sitting around the mahogany table, you fiddle with the telephone cord. "Did you, uh— did you need something, though?" 

Peeta hesitates again. 

"I just—" He cuts himself off. "I'm sorry for calling you so late." He's entirely earnest in a way that makes you ache. "Did I wake you up?" 

He's also dodging the question, even if he is genuinely worried about your sleep schedule. 

"No, you didn't," you assert, "don't worry about that. It's fine." 

"Okay," he responds, relief palpable despite the crackly quality. 

The telephone cord is somewhat cold where it rests on your knuckles. You continue to twist it around your idle hand. 

"You still haven't answered my question, by the way."  

Peeta audibly exhales. 

"Oh." More rustling. "Yeah. I, um—" he clears his throat, "—yeah, I do need something, actually." 

That could mean a lot of things. Does he just need to talk? You know he does, sometimes. Or maybe he just needs some more flour, and is too embarrassed to admit it. He does seem like the type of guy to stress-bake in the wee hours of the morning. However, you seriously doubt that he wants anything related to that. 

"What is it?" You ask, finally. 

His next words are rushed, as if he's afraid that if he says them slowly, he'll never get them out. 

"Could you come over? I just—" it's only a momentary gap, "—don't wanna be alone right now." 

Ah. 

The thing is, you understand. You know what it's like. And there's only one possible response that you can give right now. Vividly, you can see him— the cave—  his face, shining with a cold sweat, his eyes scrunched tightly in pain— 

"Okay." You're already mentally mapping out where to go. "I'll be there in a few." 

-- 

When he opens the door, Peeta looks exhausted. 

But when he smiles at you, there's still that light in his eyes. That look he gets whenever you're around. It used to make you feel sick to your stomach, but now— now, you're not quite sure how to feel. You've been told that in comparison to him, you're rather good at keeping your feelings hidden underneath the surface. It's been necessary, after all. 

"You're here," he says after a beat, as if he expected anything else. 

"I'm here," you echo. 

Wordlessly, he steps aside to let you pass by. Somehow, although the layout of his house is exactly the same as yours, his still feels different. Warmer. A little cozier. The remnants of something sweet are still floating through the air, and you glance back at him. Maybe you were right about the possibility of him making cookies— or apple turnovers. Or those little cakes. 

"Been baking?" You ask. 

"Earlier," he clarifies, shutting the door behind you. 

"Smells nice." 

Peeta lingers by your side. "Want some?" 

"If that's okay." 

"It's always been okay." He raises his eyebrows. "How many times have I told you that you don't even need to ask?" 

You shoot him a look. "Doesn't hurt to ask." 

Flawlessly, he copies your expression. "How do you know that?" 

"It's called being polite, Peeta." 

"Polite," he repeats. "Polite…" 

You let out a short sigh. 

"Just show me where they are." 

He gives you a shit-eating grin. "And there it is." 

You don't even bother trying to respond; he's already padding past you, anyway. It's a short trip to the kitchen. His is more cluttered than yours— recently-used, more lived-in. There are more dishes in the sink, more stuff on the counter. But your eyes are drawn to the two wire baking racks on the stovetop. On top of them sit around two dozen pastries. They're prettily decorated with pink, blue, and white icing, and you take some time to admire them as you join him in front of the stove. 

"You've outdone yourself," you can't help but murmur. "Wow." 

At your compliment, Peeta instantly turns bashful. 

"Oh, thanks." Of course, he can't let those words sit. "It's— it's not my best work, but I—" 

His volume drops, and he pauses. 

"Well— my hands were shaking, so…"

Abruptly, you turn your attention away from the pastries. 

He notices, interrupting you before you can even open your mouth to speak. 

"I know what you're gonna ask," he says, softly. "And, yeah, I do want to talk about it. Just—" Peeta sucks in a breath. "Just not now, okay? Give it a little while." The corner of his mouth quirks up, and he gestures towards the racks. 

"Eat." 

You consider pressing the question. You consider urging him— did it happen again? Was it worse this time? It had to have been worse, considering that he wanted you over in the first place. Just thinking about it makes your stomach perform an uneasy flip. You can read Peeta. And right now, you can read the bags under his eyes. The tiredness he's trying to fight away. 

However, you don't want to push him. You don't want to break him down. Not again. 

So, you take a pastry. 

It's really, very good. 

Peeta takes one for himself, too, and you eat in silence. You know that despite your frequent approval of his various baked goods, he's still carefully watching your reaction; you make sure to look pleased, and it isn't hard at all. He seems satisfied. You're also satisfied. Once you've finished your pastry, you lick the remnants of the icing off your fingers. 

You pretend not to notice the way he stares— briefly, before forcing his gaze away. 

You pretend to ignore the way your heart skips. 

Mercifully, he breaks the awkward tension. 

 "Do you— would you want to take some home?" He asks, after swallowing. "We both know that I'm not gonna eat 'em all." 

"Oh, yeah, I'll take some," you answer. Thinking for a second, you add, "Were you going to risk bringing some to Haymitch, or—" 

He snorts. "Not this time." 

"More for me, then." 

"And your family, you mean?" 

You smile. There's no way that you're going to give up those pastries without a fight. 

"Sure. And my family."

Peeta doesn't seem entirely convinced, but he returns your smile all the same. 

-- 

He always keeps his bedroom windows open at night. 

You're not exactly sure why, but you suppose it's because he runs warm. Always. 

The duvet's soft on your bare skin, and his hands are gentle. With the way your head is positioned, if you move your ear just so, you can hear his heartbeat thumping through his chest. A steady rhythm. He's calm, and so are you. You're certain that you could fall asleep like this— if it weren't for the fact that you have other, more important priorities right now. 

When you look up at him, shifting an increment closer, he talks. 

"I thought things were getting better." His Adam's apple bobs as you watch. "I thought that— that things were gonna start improving. That I'd— " He trails off, for a second. 

"That I'd start going back to normal, I guess. But I should've known that it's… It's impossible." His gaze is focused on the ceiling. "It was hopeless to try and believe that I could just keep on going like nothing happened at all." 

You find your voice. 

"But you still tried?" 

The chuckle he lets out is completely humorless. 

"Yeah, I tried." 

He's always been optimistic— he's always trying to see the best in people. And seeing him like this makes you feel hopeless. You know what he's going through. It's essentially the same thing that you're going through. However, it's not like you can read minds. He knows the right words to say, but you don't. Even though you wish you could. Words— even though actions can speak louder than them— still mean a lot. You turn that word over in your head a couple of times. Actions. 

"What happened?" You ask, quietly. 

 A beat. 

"I let down my guard," he starts, volume barely a whisper. "I was confident in my stability. I thought that I wouldn't— break down, or anything. Because it had been a few weeks, and—" 

His eyes shut. Tightly. "God, I'm stupid." 

"You're not," you rush to interject, "don't say that." 

Peeta lets out another huff. "But it was stupid. To assume that I'd be okay, I mean. I should've— I should've expected it, at least." He quickly carries on. "Even after everything, I still let myself fall into a routine." 

I still let myself fall back into a routine, you know what he means. The bad dreams pale in comparison to the real monsters that loom over the both of you. Haymitch is a living example of what can happen; what will happen, if you don't hold on to tight control of the hypothetical reins. You ache. 

"Don't blame yourself for any of this," you murmur, "please. It's not your fault. Not in the slightest." You have to speak slowly, pace yourself. Keep yourself from everything you want to say. "Even if you tried to— I don't know, stay hyper-aware of everything— it would still come crashing down eventually." A breath. "It's inevitable, Peeta. It's always going to be here." 

"But I don't want it to be here," he chokes out, "I really, really don't!" 

You push yourself up from your previous position. His eyes are open now, wide and looking up at you. 

When you move backward and open your arms, he's on you in an instant. 

You rock back and forth, gently. You're not sure which one of you is holding onto the other tighter. Clinging would be a better word. His face is pressed firmly into your shoulder. You can feel him shaking. 

Despite everything, he won't let himself make any noise when he cries. 

You don't know how long you stay like this. It could be minutes. Hours, even. All you can feel and register is him. Peeta. He's trembling. The barely-there sensation, combined with the undeniable tightness of his arms. His hands. It's almost like he thinks that if he loosens his hold, even by just the slightest fraction, you'll suddenly disappear. 

That you'll cease to exist. 

That you'll become not real.  

When you finally draw back— slowly, tentatively, and only because he does it first— 

He sniffs, eyes red. They're not brimming with unshed tears, but they're still wet. You can't help but thumb away what little remains on his lower lids, even though you know that you probably look about the same. 

Peeta returns the gesture. 

Unlike you, though, he lingers, hand dropping to cup your cheek. 

There's a moment. 

You've done this before, of course. You've held each other. Comforted each other, brought each other back down. But since the end of the Games— since you've gotten away from the clamoring audiences desperate for a romance despite the sick circumstances— you haven't done anything more than that. 

You haven't kissed him since the end of the Games. 

But right now, you realize that you want to. More than anything. Anyone could see that Peeta wants it, too. Maybe even more than you do. 

So, when he leans in— just barely— closing the distance— 

It's practiced, at first. Familiar. Almost nostalgic. 

But then he melts, and it's suddenly something completely different.  

Peeta lets you softly maneuver him down onto the mattress, up against the pillows that are still too soft for your liking. He kisses you in the way those terrible poets describe— it's all excessively large bouquets, a clear starry night, longing looks across a crowded room, and—  

It's real. 

He gives. You take, and exchange it for everything you have in return. His hand stays on your cheek, the other behind your head, pulling you down. He kisses you like he needs it to breathe. You lose yourself in the feeling. Whenever you part, it's only out of necessity, and you're soon leaning back in. You're making up for lost time— you're making up for every action you didn't mean, every word that was too sugary-sweet. 

Soon, your kisses grow deeper. And neither of you wants to stop. 

It's only when his hands are trailing down your body, down to the hem of your shirt, that you bother addressing it. Even if you want this— so, so desperately— you don't want to force anything in a situation that doesn't require it. Just kissing is nice. It's very nice. Nice enough that it takes a little while for you to regain control of your mouth. 

"Is this—" 

—and he's already speaking. Hushed, like you. 

"Please." 

It's almost embarrassing, what that single word does to you. But you barrel on. 

"It's okay?" You ask, "Just say if it's not, and I'll stop—" 

"—I just," Peeta visibly struggles with what to say for a moment, before settling on: 

"Need you," he says. "Please." 

It's more than enough, and you're in no place to deny him for much longer. You recapture his lips, welcoming his touch. His hands on your back, then your waist, then your hips again. His grip is firm, but not overly so. He would never hurt you, after all. Especially not here. Especially after what he's witnessed. 

His hands are warm and calloused on your bare skin. Strong, with all the work he's done since he was old enough to knead dough. You have to sit up in order to take off your nightshirt, and he takes the opportunity to do the same with his. You've already seen him shirtless, and at close proximity, too— but it wasn't like this. You couldn't trail over every little detail with your lips, back then. 

Peeta shivers, letting out a short giggle when you press a kiss to his stomach. He's sturdy, that's for sure. Impressive biceps, a toned chest. He's beautiful, and you tell him so. You think he blushes, but it's difficult to say for certain from your position. You're too focused on finding all the little freckles you can. 

He likes it when you kiss his neck, breath audibly hitching when you do so. 

But even though he lets you entertain yourself for a decent while, he makes sure to return the favor. He's never liked being in the spotlight for long, after all. And he wants. 

He finds all of your scars, from the arena. From before the arena, too. He maps them out, painstakingly, mimicking the way you'd kissed him all over earlier. Sensitive, he notes, when you make a small noise when his thumbs find your nipples. Soft, he observes, as his fingers slip underneath your waistband, moving lower. 

Soon, you're completely exposed, and he is too. 

Peeta pays more attention to certain parts of you— your thighs, your chest— but he doesn't skip over anything in particular. He wants to know everything; he wants to learn everything. And he's eager to learn. By the time he reaches the spot between your legs, you're already wanting for him. You've grown needy from his kisses, his caresses. You can feel him against your thigh— he's just as needy as you. 

His fingers are clumsy, at first. But they're strong, and you guide him. One, then two. Then another. His breath is loud, and he hums, biting his lower lip at your quiet moan after you tell him how to crook his fingers. You jolt when he finds your clit, paying careful attention to it while he works you open. 

At your whispered insistence, he grips himself by the base— already having put on protection— you don't care enough to ask exactly how he obtained it— and he pushes in. The groan he lets out sounds like it's been punched from his gut. 

He sets a slow, measured pace. Almost awkward at first, but he's a fast learner. He learns what angle makes you spread your legs wider for him. You wouldn't even use fucking to describe what you're doing— somehow, that word's too rough. He kisses you, nose bumping against yours. Most of your noises are muffled against his lips, but he takes them all the same. He absorbs them, and drinks them in. Drinks you in. 

"Peeta," you sigh, and he breathes your name in return, before ducking to kiss your shoulder. Your collarbone. Your neck. 

He comes first, twitching, pulsing deep within you. He stifles his whimper by tucking his face into the divot between your shoulder and your neck— but you can still feel it. You help him ride it out, until his thrusts falter, and his hips still. 

It's a few moments of limbo, in which he catches his breath. He meets your eyes. His are hazy, half-lidded. He kisses you. 

Then, he pulls out— disposes of the garbage, of course— and wastes no time in making his way down your body, to where you need him most. 

You're certain that he's never eaten anybody out before, but he's a natural. He's enthusiastic— much more so than when he was inside you. This is just for your pleasure, now. When you thread a hand through his tousled hair, he moans into you, increasing his efforts tenfold. He doesn't care for the mess— or the noise, as he laps at you. He doesn't even care for his own need to breathe. Peeta just wants to give. 

His brow is furrowed in concentration as he rapidly pulls you closer to orgasm. You can do little but take. And when you finally topple over your peak— 

"—that's so good, ah— Peeta, I'm gonna— ohh—" 

You cry out, heat rolling low in your abdomen— gathering, passing through your entire body. 

You float on blissful waves, and he licks at you through it all. For a single, brief moment, your mind is perfectly calm. 

When you relax, the warmth steadying to a hum, he notices and stops working at you. He wriggles a little, and leans forward to rest his chin on your stomach while you catch your breath. You can feel his, too, and it's hot on your skin. Peeta seems reluctant to take his eyes off you just yet. 

It's quiet, you register. You're reluctant to ruin it, but he looks pretty messy. 

"I should get you a towel or something," you say. 

He cracks a smile, his eyes softening. "Should you?" 

"Yeah." You're powerless not to return it. "But, you know, for me to get the towel, you have to get off me." 

"So demanding." 

You let out a short, offended sound. "Hey, that's just—" 

"I'm getting up." And he does. 

It doesn't take long to clean up, and the obnoxious white fluorescent lights of the bathroom don't blind you for long. Again, Peeta looks on while you wipe off his face— this close, you notice how brilliantly blue his eyes are. You notice the precise angles of his jaw. His cheek. He's probably doing the same to you— tracing the contours of your face. 

To your relief, you're back in his bed a few minutes later. He completely shuts off the lights, flicking off his bedside lamp, and then crawls under the duvet with you. You're not sure if it's creepy or weird to enjoy it, but everything here smells like him. A sort of earthy, warm scent. Even though you're both well aware of the multiple floral shampoos that the Capitol has to offer— he still retains that one thing. 

You're comfortable. You're safe. 

Peeta wraps his arms around you from behind. 

You're not sure if you should say something or not, but he does it first. 

"You'll stay?" Whispered, into the stillness. 

"Of course." Without hesitation. 

His grip tightens, almost imperceptibly. 

"Thank you," he breathes.  

The words are stuck in your throat. 

You can't bring yourself to say them, even though you know you'd mean them. Every single syllable. 

But you have time. You can tell him tomorrow, even. Or the day after that. Tonight, you didn't say it aloud, but you still told him all the same. 

You understand exactly how you feel, just before you drift off. 

You love him. 

[frost-queen]

The fall of a knight (Reader!Targaryen x Sir Criston Cole)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic  , @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve  , @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly   @denkisclown, @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23  , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr  , @swampthing07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms  , @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat   , @rosecentury  ,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn  , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Summary: Reader dislikes Criston from how he acts towards your sister Rhaenyra. Constantly fighting with him and being sassy, till it starts attracting him. Years pass as Criston's attraction for you only grows. You still act the same towards him, not much changed over the years. When another starts flirting with you, it brings a bad jealousy over to Criston, taking you as his even though he can't have you. [R! has purple eyes just like in the books]

It was way too late when you got a sudden idea. The scenery taunting your dreams as it woke you up. Your thirst for knowledge needing to be lessened. Throwing the covers off you, you got out of bed, putting on your slippers. Your heritage of the Targaryen bloodline interesting you so much. Surely since you were the only Targaryen with lavender eyes. You had always wondered how it came.

Slightly opening the door to your chamber, you stuck your head out and peeked around. Seeing if there was anyone in the corridor.  Not being able to wait till morning, you just needed to get to the family library that withheld all of the Targaryen history. Perhaps there you might find answers to your questions. Perhaps there had been another with lavender eyes? Taking your chance, you ran out of your room, running through the corridors.

Sir Criston Cole was standing guard before your sister’s room. Making sure no one would disturb her sleep or come and harm her. Sir Criston furrowed his brows hearing rushed footsteps. Turning his head he saw you ran around the corner fast, making him tilt his head. It took him a few seconds before placing his hand on the top of his sword, coming to run after you. – “Princess!” – he said in a hushed tone to not alarm any others.

Clenching his jaw, he quickened up his pace. Sir Criston caught up with you, grabbing you to a stop. – “What are you doing out of bed?” – he questioned with a scolding voice. You were panting a bit, catching your breath. – “I need…I need to go to the library.” – you told him seeing his face change to anger. – “It’s the middle of the night!” – he shout-whispered to you.

“It can’t wait.” – you replied brushing his hand off you. Sir Criston took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. You crossed your arms, quirking your eyebrow up. – “Shouldn’t you be protecting my sister?” – you asked him. – “You need to be in bed!” – he countered crossing his arms as well.

 “Have you left her unattended?” – quirking your brow even more, just to taunt him. – “No.” – he groaned out. – “I don’t need saving. I’ll be quick.” – you said already turning round to head to the library as Sir Criston kept you in place by holding your wrist. Turning you back to him. – “Bed is where you are heading!” – he made clear, pulling you along with him.

You tried to pull your wrist out of his grip, but it was no use. Sir Criston led you back to your room, shoving you inside. – “Don’t get any funny idea’s princess!” – he scolded closing the door before him. You groaned annoyed. You hated that he had seen you. The thirst for knowledge still vivid. Unlike your sister, who was rather carefree, you were not.

You found her ignorant of her surroundings. She couldn’t even name any battle formations right. Rather spend her time with Alicent than prepare herself properly for her future on the iron throne. Kneeling down, you tried to look through the keyhole. You couldn’t see clearly, so you hoped Sir Criston Cole had left to guard your sister’s door once more. Taking the handle in your hand, you slowly opened the door, still crouched down. – “Going somewhere?” – Sir Criston commented, looking over his shoulder down to you.

A smirk on his lips. – “I hate you.” – you breathed out. Sir Criston positioned himself better in your view taking a dramatic bow at you. – “I’ll be here all night.” – he mocked just to taunt you more. Annoyed you shut the door again. He surely wasn’t going to let you pass now with him guarding your door. Pacing around, you hoped perhaps he’d fall asleep. Which was unlikely. The hours past as you felt yourself get exhausted. Eventually falling asleep sitting down, with your head down on the table.

The next day, your sister, Alicent and you were at the white tree. Rhaenyra and Alicent sitting down and gossiping. You sitting at the other end, as far away from them. You lifted your head up from your book, feeling a presence come from behind you. – “Had a good night rest?” – looking up, you saw Sir Criston Cole standing behind you. Making you roll your eyes at him. – “Should you not be watching my sister.” – you let out, focusing on your book once more. – “I am.” – he answered, still looking back at your sister.

“That the book you so desperately needed to read in the middle of the night?” – he teased with a smirk. His comment made you shut your book tight. – “Mockery, how elegant.” – you responded with a sneer while getting up. Giving him a sarcastic smile. Sir Criston Cole gave you a sarcastic smile back. – “Sir Criston!” – Rhaenyra called out to him. He lifted his head up to her, seeing her wave him over. Sir Criston jogged over to your sister to answer her plead. – “Jaos” dog you mumbled under your breath.

Sitting annoyed down, you watched how Rhaenyra wrapped him around her finger. Him doing all her bidding. Having enough, you got up, taking your leave. There was no room for you anyways. The three of them so caught up with each other, they hardly noticed you taking your leave. You made your way around the castle, ending up at the fighting court.

Soldiers practising as you stopped and stared. Observed their movement. Watched it with the upmost attention. Taking notice of their footwork. The way their muscles worked whilst handling the sword. It made you move your own foot to match their stand. Trying to get the right distance between your feet for a steady stand. Sir Criston found his way on the fighting court, seeing you watch the soldiers practise.

He got in motion heading over to you. Pausing briefly he noticed you swiping your feet over the ground setting it in a position. Making him furrow his brows. He then eyed the soldiers, making a link with what you were doing. Sir Criston made his way across towards you.

 “Found you!” – he said coming to be at your side. – “I didn’t need finding.” – you replied stoking some folds off your skirt. – “You left unattended.” – he answered making it clear to you. It made you scoff loud. – “You must’ve gotten an honour for observance.” – you mocked turning your head away from you. Criston grabbed you by your elbow a bit rudely. Turning you back to him.

“You do not leave unattended!” – he made clear, raising his voice a bit. – “Scared I’ll run?” – you replied with a teasing smile. – “Did I make myself clear?” – Criston called out pulling at your arm once more. You stared right back at him with your intriguing lavender eyes.

“Sir Criston, am I royalty?” – you asked him. – “Of course.” – he answered mesmerized by your gaze. – “Then stop bossing me around.” – you made clear giving him a little shove. Walking off, Criston kept staring at you. As you slowly started to attract him. Making him curl up a shy smile.

★゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

Sir Criston Cole entered the room, having searched everywhere for you. With a sigh of relief, he was glad to finally have found you. Asleep that was. With your head down on the table, a book underneath it. He approached you, nudging your shoulder to wake you. – “Princess.” – he said. – “Princess… Y/n wake up.” – he started to nudge you harder. – “Wake up Y/n.” – he said a bit louder.

You shot awake, hand shooting out as it him right in his nose. Criston groaned in pain, stumbling back. You got up apologizing. – “Oh sorry I thought you were someone else.” – you said until you could clearly see it was Criston. – “Oh it’s you, well that’s alright than.” – you continued with sass. Criston glared at you for the perhaps deliberate punch to the nose. Stretching out, you got up.

You saw him still cover up his nose, recovering from your little stomp. – “Oh please.” – you called out with a roll of your eyes. – “You hit me in the nose!” – Criston answered loudly. – “You’re a knight.” – you mocked that he should be used to it. Criston glared your way, as your attitude hadn’t changed over the years. – “The tournament, Y/n.” – Criston said changing the subject.

“Right.” – you answered with a sigh. Criston came by your side, walking out with you. – “Aren’t you participating this year Criston?” – you asked not with the intention to be curious. – “Yes.” – he answered. – “Then you’ll get used being hit in the nose.” – you teased with a laugh. Criston laughed mockingly loud to make clear your joke wasn’t even funny.

Getting outside, you let Criston guide you to the box. Rhaenyra already sitting down. – “Criston!” – she called out, waving her handkerchief around. She threw it at him as it fell down in the dirt at his feet. He bend down to pick it up as you left his side, coming to sit by your sister.

When Criston looked back up, he was surprised to see you gone. Looking up at the seats, he saw you sit by your sister. Criston took his leave to prepare. Rhaenyra and you were chatting a bit till the tournament began. You watched several men joist. Not nearly as amusing as you liked it to be.

Then came the one on one combat. There were two men fighting as Sir Criston and another were up next. – “Criston!” – Rhaenyra called out to him. Criston neared the box you sat, looking up as his gaze fixated on you. The other contender joined his side, looking over at you as well. – “Y/n Targaryen!” – he called out making Criston look at him. – “May I receive your blessings? A kiss from you will still my beating heart and give me strength enough to win this tournament for you.” – he said moving his hand out to you.

Rhaenyra tapped your knee enthusiastically at the attention you were getting. Criston clenched his jaw with tension. Clenching his hand into a fist. – “Fairest Targaryen, may I drown in your lavender eyes and hold your tender hands in his. This battle shall be in devotion to you.” – he continued as you stared in shock at him. – “Go on give him a kiss.” – Rhaenyra teased, pushing you to do so.

She practically shoved you out of your seat. Sighing loud, you knew she wouldn’t stop pestering you about it. You got up, making your way down to the edge of the box. Sir Criston staring hard at you, eyes widening at what you were about to do.

You tapped your finger against your cheek to let the knight know what to do. The knight turned his cheek towards you. You grabbed a hold of the frame in front of you, leaning closer to give the knight a kiss on the cheek. Sir Criston staring at it with disgust and jealousy. Rhaenyra cheered loudly from her seat, getting up to clap. You felt a bit foolish as the knight pressed his hand against his cheek.

Your gaze fell upon Criston, seeing how angered he was. Clearly fighting off demons inside of him. A battle you weren’t sure which side would win. A horn got blown as it announced the start of the next battle. You returned to your seat watching the next round. Sir Criston and the other knight you had given a kiss on the cheek.

Sir Criston sniffed loud, looking up to the seating where you sat. Smiling a bit that you dared to taunt him so much with this. With showing affection to anyone. The knight readied himself as Criston drew his sword. He called it out, running up to the man to let out all his anger and jealousy out. He was brutal and hard. Hardly leaving the knight room to breathe.

Rhaenyra stared in shock at him. Criston kept slashing his sword down on the knight’s shield. He lost balance, falling down as Criston got on him. Punching him a few times, making sure to hit the cheek you kissed. Wanting to wipe your sweet lips off him. Criston was a savage, rampaging. He wasn’t going to stop till there was death. – “Criston!” – you shouted loud, seeing that the knight below was barely giving any reaction.

“Enough!” – you made clear wanting him to stop. Criston stopped, his knuckles full with blood as it hovered over the knight’s face. The knight sputtered out some blood as Criston got off him. Claiming his victory. Having enough of this manly show-off, you got up, leaving the seats. Criston cleaned his hand, noticing you take your leave.

Without another thought, he went after you, going away from the tournament. – “Y/n!” – he called out catching up with you. He grabbed you by your shoulder, turning you to him to push you up against a tree. When your back hit the bark, you let out a gasp.

“Don’t do this to me Y/n.” – he spoke keeping his hands on your waist. – “Do what.” – you teased him making him smirk. – “Kiss another man in front of me.” – he replied grabbing you forcefully by your chin. Tilting your head a bit back as he stared firm at your eyes. It made you weak on your knees by the way he was staring hungrily at you. Criston took a step closer to you, nearing you more.

He let his thumb go down your lip, parting your lips by pressing on your under lip. Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest as your cheeks flushed with heat. – “Criston…” – you whispered as he tilted your chin aside, kissing your jawline. His touch send a warmth over you like a tidal wave. He went down, kissing you in your neck. 

It made you wrap your arms around him, scratching faintly his back. He knew he shouldn’t, but he wanted anyways. He wanted you to be his. So he simply claimed you as his even though he wasn’t allowed. Criston’s gaze met up with yours, staring fiercely back at you.

Then he smacked his lips on yours. Kissing you roughly. He immediately felt you kiss him back, diving with him into the intimacy. Criston started kissing you harder, quicker. Panting with each grasp for breath between kisses. For you were his, and his alone.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[kitixie]

Little Girl Gone

Little Girl Gone / T.S. (pt. 1)

part two: here

Synopsis: Having been several years since you’d last seen your favorite gangster family, you return to Small Heath a changed woman with a stronger attitude than you had when you left. 

information: this will be a multi part story! idk how many parts exactly, but there will be more!

warnings: none for this chapter!

please leave all comments and reccommendations below! thank you for reading!

“Aye, what does a woman have to do to get a whiskey around here?”, you shouted, rapping your hand on the bar counter. 

You were seated at The Garrison, it was your first stop back in town. You had lived in Small Heath most of your early life, but five years ago you were forced to leave due to your fathers death and your mothers general distrust (and dislike) of the Shelby family. Your mother had kicked you out a few days ago, claiming that you were old enough to be married now, and that she wouldn’t stand for you staying in her house if you weren’t going to look for a husband. 

“Calm down Lady, I’ll- Holy Shit! Y/N, what are you doin’ back!”, a man's voice rang out, making you and the rest of the bar look in his direction. 

Arthur Shelby had always been one of your favorite Shelby siblings, and for good reason. He was loud, funny, and typically a gentleman if you caught him on the right day. You leaned over the bar and wrapped your arms around his neck, nearly bruising him in the process. You had hoped your whole journey here that he would be the first Shelby you saw, and luck had worked out for you this time. 

“Arth, I am sure glad to see you! It’s been a long time, aye?”, you spoke, removing your arms from him and sitting back on your barstool. 

“Hell, it’s been about, what, five years? You don’t show your face around these parts for five fuckin’ years and then you just come back?”, he said, staring you in the face, with a somewhat more serious look in his eye than you had expected. 

‘Yeah, had some family troubles, but I’m back for good now,” you swallowed, “how's all the Shelby’s doin’?” 

“Eh, the usual. Tommys about to run himself ragged, Pol acts like she owns us all, I’m workin’ here now, I actually own the place!” he said, spilling out most of that information in one breath. 

You took a quick survey of the bar, noticing how the decor and table setup had changed since you’d seen it last. The floor was still the same sticky, slimy feeling though. 

“Glad to see you doing well, Arth. Now, please get me a whiskey an i’ll be outta your way!” you spoke, glad to have reunited with Arthur, but not glad to have been out in public this long. 

“Ah, ah. If you think I’m letting you get out of here without seein’ Tom, you’re messed in the head!” He joked, but as you watched him move towards the window to the private room, you realized he wasn’t joking. 

You had not come prepared to see Thomas. He was the only one who never got a goodbye, even though the rest of them didn’t know they were goodbyes at the time. When you were being forced to leave, you managed to sneak over to Watery Lane and have one last conversation with all the Shelbys before you left, and you never told them you were leaving that night. Thomas had been on business, but got home a few minutes after you left. You had regretted not speaking to him then, but now that regret had turned into a fear after hearing about the man he had become while you were away. You had heard things about Thomas Shelby, and they were not things any girl would like to hear about her long-time crush.

‘Oy, that Tommy Shelby is a real whore’

‘I heard he gets around Small Heath like its a full time job’

‘He pays them ya know? Every girl he fucks gets paid, even if theyre not workin’ for it!’

Those were all just some of the things you had heard, and those weren’t even the things you had heard that were related to his newfound habit of murdering those who crossed him. You’ve had your eyes on Tommy Shelby ever since you were 16. Now aged 21, it had been a long enough time that you realized what kind of person you needed to settle with, and logically, he wasn’t it. 

While this entire catalog of thoughts was running through your head, your eyes watched as Arthur got closer and closer to that window. You knew you weren’t ready to see him yet, if you ever would be. So acting on those primal prey instincts, you ran. You hopped off the barstool, and started pushing your way through the crowd of bar patrons, finally having the door insight. You wrapped your hand around the handle, and pulled it open. Stepping into the cool air of the night, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes as you closed the bar door behind you. Just as you were stepping away from the door to begin your walk to the apartment you were renting, you bumped into something, or rather, someone. 

“Thought I’d let you run from me a second time, aye?”

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

“I-I-”, you stammered, not having any idea what to say, now that you were staring at the face of one Thomas Shelby. 

“It’s okay, I’d be nervous too if I ran into someone I left in the dust five years ago.”, he laughed, letting a puff of cigarette smoke roll out of his mouth. 

“Tommy, how did you even know I was out here? I watched Arthur and left before he even opened the window, I don’t underst-”

“Shh. I have my ways, ya know I have my ways.” he spoke, that cool, gravelly voice still hadn’t changed, even after all this time. 

You finally looked up at him, releasing the death stare you had on his chest. He was more handsome now, if that was even possible. His dark hair styled perfectly, like he had touched it up before meeting you outside. His hat was missing, which was a rare occurrence, but you were enjoying the unobstructed view of his face. He was lean, only muscle was visible through his white shirt, and his pants hugged his legs perfectly. He was beautiful, especially in the face. You could see more defined freckles in the glow of the street lamp, along with more defined lines carved into his forehead. You continued to study his face, while his studied yours. You had definitely matured in your time away, but not only on your face. Your lips had gotten fuller, cheek bones more pronounced, and hair longer; but you had also grown tits and an ass. You knew you had assets, and fully planned on using them to your advantage, just not on Tommy Shelby. 

“My God, Y/N, I’d say you grew up…”, he trailed off, eyes looking all over your face and body. 

“Yeah, that tends to happen to people as they age, Tom.” you laughed, feeling suddenly insecure as you stood under his microscope. 

“What are ya doin’ back in town? I imagined you ran off and got married or somethin’,” he spoke, “But, I don’t see a ring on that finger so either that can’t be right or you married a poor bastard.” 

“Not married Tom, never was. It’s part of the reason I’m back in town, but-” 

“What are ya doin’ tomorrow evening?”, he cut off, not even letting you finish explaining how you didn’t want to talk about it right now. 

“Nothing I know about, why?”, you asked, having no idea what was about to come out of that pretty mouth of his. 

“Join me for dinner, yeah? I’d love to sit down and have a chat with ya, but I got to go handle some business right now.”, he spoke, suddenly sounding strained. 

“Uh, I guess I’ll get dinner with ya, where at?” 

“My place, I’ll come pick you up tomorrow at 6, Goodnight, Y/N.” Tom spoke, brushing shoulders with you lightly as he passed by, heading back into The Garrison.

[mack-devereaux]

Hiii i wanna ask if ya can write something with Vince? Maybe him getting into a fight (so hot i love it) and hin hurting his wrist are something? And reader taking care of him afterwards. Plleeaassee

Vince Dunn

Omg this is my first request!! I’m so sorry it took so long! Also check out my other fic about Vince. I think they have a similar vibe. But This has no relation to that one. I had so much fun writing this. Just a reminder this is a work of fiction and my imagination, this is not based on true events. Thank you to the anon who requested!

Picture is from Pinterest, no triggers except for cursing and mentions of blood. I think that’s it! Enjoy!

When Vince first moved to Seattle he was excited. This was a brand new team and he had more opportunities to make a name for himself as one of the more aggressive defensemen in the NHL. He had always had a temper on the ice, even in his early days in high school and in the OHL, and he was good at running his mouth. He was always respectful to the medical training staff and the coaching staff, he never took his anger or frustration out on the people who helped him get back on the ice.

Did he cause the fights on purpose? Maybe.

Was he mad about being hauled into the cute medical trainers office to get patched up? Absolutely not. He enjoyed talking with y/n and getting to know her a bit better.

Did he cause fights just to see her? No, he truly has a passion for the sport, he just sometimes got a little too involved with the banter sometimes. However a perk to all this was those few minutes alone with y/n. Although she never really spoke to him much outside of work and was always very quiet he knew how passionate she was about her job. No matter what she was always so attentive to the injury and informative about what she was doing to help said injured player.

Y/n loved the energy of the home games, she typically didn’t get to travel very much with the team, only to close games, but something about the atmosphere of home games had her just buzzing with energy. Most of the time she got to watch the game from the tunnels, it was the perfect spot to see most of the game and it was easy to drag injured players back to the locker room to tend to the injuries. Tonight’s game was a home game against the Colorado Avalanche again, a team known to get the Kraken a little riled up. Just the week prior Vince had gotten himself into quite the scrum and ended up with a cut on his nose while playing against the Avalanche.

*flashback to a week prior*

Y/n was sitting in the medical room at Ball Arena, going through the medical kits organizing some of the supplies. She had heard the roar of the crowd and immediately knew there was a fight that happened. Shortly after that, the third period had ended. Hearing the players stomping down the tunnel shouting and cheering she already knew who was headed her direction.

“Vince..” y/n sighed pulling all her medical supplies back out.

“Don’t act like you aren’t happy to see me” Vince chirped at the girl.

“You’re gonna have some serious damage to your nose if you don’t stop” y/n said as she was washing her hands and throwing her gloves on “I’m surprised you don’t have a permanent scar from how many times I’ve seen it busted”.

“That just means you are doing a great job babe. I’ve got you to thank for keeping me looking good” Vince smiles.

Y/n rolled her eyes and turned around trying to hide her blush. Knowing this was the exact reason as to why she fell for him. He was just so charming. He knew exactly what to say and that’s why she could never date him. That and the fact that she technically worked for the same organization as him. Were they coworkers? No, but surely it was still frowned upon. At least that’s what she told herself anyway. As she was cleaning off the blood from his nose she caught herself admiring him. He truly was one of the most beautiful people she’s ever laid eyes on. Once the bleeding stopped she checked for other injuries, and sent him to be with the rest of the team.

“Promise me you’ll keep out of trouble for at least the next week” she called to him as he walked away.

“For you? Never.” He added with a wink.

*present*

Five minutes left in the third period and y/n had gotten to watch maybe 10 minutes total of the game. Partially because she didn’t like seeing Vince fight much, and because the players definitely kept her busy. This was probably the most bloody noses and knuckles she had tended to in her entire career. Normally the crowd goes crazy and encourages fights, and she definitely enjoyed that. But for some reason she couldn’t stomach seeing Vince getting hurt. I guess she had Cupids arrow to thank for that. After a few more minutes gloves went flying, curse words were being yelled and the crowd went wild. Reluctantly she looked over in front of the players bench and Vince had thrown a Colorado player on his back.

“Oh for fucks sake Vince” she muttered under her breath.

“You got him or do you want me to take care of him this time” the head medical trainer asked y/n chuckling and shaking his head.

Y/n looked across the ice as Vince and the Avalanche player got tossed in their respective sin bins, she sees that Vince has his helmet off and is holding his wrist.

“I think he hurt his wrist, do you see him messing with it?” y/n points to Vince.

“I’ll take a look when we get back there but I’m sure he’s fine. I think you can handle it after that” the trainer says as they walk back to the locker room.

After the game y/n was in her office waiting for Vince, it had been nearly 40 minutes since the game ended. What was taking him so long? She knew Coach had told him to stop by after their after game meetings and interviews. While she was waiting she decided to tidy up and clean a bit. As she was cleaning her desk she found the puck that Vince had signed and gave to her earlier that year.

*flashback to late last season*

Y/n was standing behind the players bench. It was the last home game for the season, then they were headed into playoffs. Looking onto the ice she watched the players warm up and interact with fans. Vince was watching y/n as he was skating in circles, getting a boost of confidence he picked up a puck and signed it with a note. Smirking he passed by and shouted “hey y/n! Catch!”

Panicking y/n shot both of her hands in front of her face as the head medical trainer caught the puck before it smacked her in the face.

“Really Dunn?!” Y/n shouted.

Vince grinned and skated off, shaking her head she looked at the puck she noticed it said “hey pretty girl” with his signature. Blushing she shoved it in her pocket before she could get scolded.

“Oh he’s so got it bad for you” the trainer said.

“Leave the chirping to the players would you” y/n muttered “besides it’s not like I can date him anyway.”

“Technically…”

“Don’t tempt me” y/n sighed “my heart can’t handle the heartbreak that comes with that one.” She continued to watch him skate around and talk to his teammates with a huge smile on his face.

*back to present*

Y/n smiled at the memory. Not knowing she wasn’t alone, because of course Vince would walk in at that very moment. Leaning up against the doorframe Vince coughed snapping her back to reality.

“My God Vince, now you choose to be quiet? You scared me” y/n shoved the puck back into the drawer.

“I’ll make sure to knock next time” he softly smiled. He totally saw that she still had the puck and it definitely boosted his ego.

“Let me see your wrist” y/n said.

“It’s fine” he muttered.

“If it’s fine let me double check then” y/n challenged.

Vince walked over and sat down on the bench in her office, while reluctantly holding his wrist out. He watched her face as she examined his wrist.

“I think if we wrap it for tonight and tomorrow you should be fine, but the swelling needs to go down significantly before you play again. I’ll clear you for practice but you have to be easy on your arm for the next few days” y/n said as she was grabbing the necessary supplies.

“Thank you for taking care of me y/n, I’m sorry for fighting” Vince whispered.

She smiled at him as she sat down and started wrapping his wrist. Knowing full well that he was watching her face closely the entire time.

“I’ll walk you to your car” Vince said.

“I’d appreciate that, thank you” y/n said as she turned back to him after putting the supplies away. With yet another boost of confidence Vince grabbed her by the waist and pulled her face to his and kissed her, she immediately kissed him back. The kiss was short and sweet. Electricity shot through her body and she felt as if she was on fire. After pulling away y/n whispered “we should go.” Neither of them saying anything as they left the arena. Vince was feeling defeated for the first time in a long time, why hadn’t she said anything? Did he over step? Did he make her uncomfortable? A million more discouraging thoughts ran through his head. Him not knowing she was in shock and on cloud nine all at once. Y/n unlocked her car and opened the door. Before she got in she turned to Vince and pulled his face to hers and slammed her lips onto his. Vince cockily smiled into he kiss and pulled her into him as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. After a few minutes they both pulled away, breathing heavy and trying to get as close as possible to each other.

“Thank you for walking me to my car Vince.”

“Let me know when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[ilovefictionalcuntymen]

✦ Calcharo - Stay ✦

A/N: You were acting reckless out on a mission and Calcharo is furious with you. He wants you to understand why he is so worried and it’s frustrating to him that you see everything so lacklustre.

Contains: Nsfw maybe a bit of angst idk?

It was quiet in the room, the only sound was coming from the old wooden door that creaked every few seconds. “You… don’t seem happy.” You said. You were sat on the bed, just having woken up from getting knocked out on the battlefield. You have a pretty deep wound, going from your shoulder across your collarbone. The attacker had aimed for your neck, however you had managed to dodge just in time to avoid a lethal wound. You were confused on why he had that stern expression on his face. You were fine. Shouldn’t he be happy you made it out without major injuries? Sure the wound would leave a nasty scar, but things like that happened.

“You don’t get it do you?” “Get what?” He huffed at your oblivious response, walking around in the room as his hand went through his hair. “Do you have any idea what could have happened after you pulled that stunt? I told you to stay back. Not only did you go against my orders, but you also almost got yourself killed.” He tried to remain composed. His voice was louder than usual and his tone very straight to the point. He was really holding back from shouting at you.

“I’m not a kid, I can take care-“ “You can take care of yourself, huh? Look where that got you! I told you to stay back and wait for my orders, but you decided run in, without my signal, almost getting yourself killed!” You flinched as he shouted at you. Your eyes went wide and you slightly pulled back, your back pressed tightly against the wall behind you. He had never shouted at you. He was always calm and composed, he tried to be as understanding as possible and never got visibly mad at you. But this time was different. His breath was ragged, his eyes wide and his fist clenched while he looked at you. “Do you have any idea how stupid what you did was?!”

“H-He was weakened! I saw a chance and I decided to-“ “Decided to what?! To ignore my command and blindly charge in?! I knew he had something up his sleeve, that’s why I told you to stay back!” He came closer, steps echoing in the almost empty and run down ‘hospital room’ of your hide out. “You always do this!” He said his hands shooting forward to count down on his fingers. “You never listen to my orders! You get yourself injured! You act reckless! You don’t pay attention to your surroundings! Name me one reason why I should still bring you with me when you’re such a danger to yourself!”

Your eyes widened further and your lip started to tremble. He was mad at you. Like really mad at you. Him shouting at you, completely enraged and disappointed in you made you tear up. You never could handle people shouting at you. Now that it especially came from Calcharo, it hurt even more. “I-I’m sorry… I o-only wanted to help, I-I only wanted to help….” You sniffled out between whimpers as you tried to wipe the snot that was starting to come from your nose.

His hard expression softened and that. Noticing that he had hurt you, he went to kneel down beside the bed you sat in, taking your face in his Hand after taking off his glove, wiping away a tear from your cheek. He didn’t mean to hurt you. He was just so frustrated that you kept being so stubborn and didn’t understand where he was coming from. “Hey… don’t cry, please.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to disappoint you…” You kept sniffling. He sighed, resting his head against your shoulder. “I’m not disappointed.” He said. “I’m worried. Don’t you understand? I’ve already lost so many people on the battlefield, people that were dear to me. I don’t want you to meet the same fate as them, I can’t let you die on me. I know you can protect yourself, but sometimes that just isn’t enough. You tend to not think things through and end up making reckless decisions.” He lifted his head, looking into your teary eyes. “Just leave the decision making to me, please? Just listen to me. I have a reason for doing things the way I do. All I want you is to understand is that I’m scared of losing you. When I saw you get cut up by that bastard, I was scared shitless. You just laid on the floor with gallons of blood gushing out of you, I thought you would die.” He whispered the last part, not wanting to imagine what he would do if that actually were the case.

Seeing Calcharo open up like that was a rare occurrence. He rarely showed how he felt and liked to keep things inside, not wanting to show his vulnerability to others. Your eyes searched through his, seeing how genuine he was being. Maybe he was right. You did get hurt often and maybe this occasion, one where you could have easily died, just was the last straw for him. Could you blame him? You too, had lost many people and were afraid of loss. You would have been equally scared if the roles were switched. “Cal… I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” You sniffled a few more times, the tears having stopped now. “Promise?“ “I promise.”

He exhaled at that, turning your face more towards him, your forehead’s bumping together. “I’m sorry I upset you, flower. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Were you scared?” “A little…” You admitted. “But it’s fine now.“ He scoffed. “No it’s not. I don’t ever want you to be afraid of me. Ever…” He whispered, leaning in to kiss you. When your lips connected, all the pain from your wound and the argument was long forgotten. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

He slowly pushed you down, not separating from you until you were in a lying position with him hovering halfway above you. When your lips disconnected, you looked up to him with half lidded eyes. Seeing you splayed out underneath him, your hair all messy and your expression so tired, tugged at his heart. He had such a weak spot for you and he knew he couldn’t deny that. “I should go…” He whispered, the bed lifting as he shifted. He had to leave before he would act on his impulses, doing something that might make your state worse.

You felt a pang of loneliness as you saw him get up to leave. “Hey…” you said, holding onto his sleeve and tugging on it. “Don’t leave… please.” You pleaded with glazed eyes, still a bit teary from crying. “Don’t look at me like that, flower… you make it hard to resist.” “Then don’t.” You whispered. He sighed, hand going through his hair again. “You don’t understand.” He said hand cupping your cheek. “I want you. I want to feel you so bad, flower. The image of losing you alone causes me unimaginable pain. After almost loosing you I want nothing more but to feel you all around me. I want to drown in your scent.”

You felt your face heat up at that confession. He usually wasn’t that good with words. Hell, he was the most unromantic person you had dated yet. Perhaps this event did weigh more on him than you thought. You didn’t even know for how long you were passed out. This time it was you who took his face in your palms, connecting your lips and forcing him on top of you once more. This kiss was more passionate, it held more meaning and carried a certain desperation with it.

‘Don’t leave. Stay. Please stay. I need you.’

Calcharo knew what you wanted. He was still worried about your injury, but seeing how moving seemed just fine for you and the neediness you displayed, he decided to give in. Settling between your legs and taking off his jacket, he separated from you, kneeling while his eyes gazed at you like you were a precious artefact to be worshipped. When he was shirtless, he leaned down to kiss you again. The kiss was sloppy and needy, both of you clinging to the other. He pulled your shirt off, the light ragged pants following shortly after. You were mercenaries, you only had limited resources, thus you had to use old clothes for the injured.

Since your wound was close to your chest area, you weren’t covered there to not mess with the bandage and your chest was completely exposed. Your nipples immediately hardened upon meeting the cold air, making you gasp quietly. Without an ounce of hesitation, Calcharos mouth connected with your left nipple, sucking and nibbling on it while he caressed the other side of your chest with his thumb. He could never get enough of you. No matter how many times you made love, no matter how many times he’s been inside of you, it’ll always make him feel like he’s on cloud nine.

You let out high pitched squeaks and hoarse moans. Your nipples were so sensitive, immediately reacting to the slightest temperature change or friction. While he sensually kneading your chest, his tongue teasing your nipple, you roughly held onto his hair. You tugged at his roots which earned you a low growl. He hated it when people touched his hair, but when you did it? This man craved it. He would let you braid it, brush it, wash it, whatever you liked. But he especially loved it when you tugged on his hair while he was making you squirm under his touch.

He placed hickeys all over your chest, the whole area covered in purple reddish spots now. He pulled away, admiring his work and how flustered you looked. “Cal…” You whined out, tugging at his pants and making him chuckle. “Eager aren’t we?” He wasn’t making fun of you, he just loved teasing you, his tone always soft and deep, turning the space between your legs into a swimming pool. A swimming pool he loved diving into. He unbuckled his belt pulling his pants down to his thighs. You could already see how he was semi hard, the outline of his dick very visible. “Come here…” you whispered. It was more a plea than an order, but he complied regardless, placing his arm beside your head and the other on your thigh, pulling it closer against his hip and squeezing the flesh. While holding eye contact your hand went south, striving over his bulge and making him grunt while closing his eyes. You caressed him like that for a while until you got impatient. He went to connect your lips again and in the mean time your hand slipped underneath his underwear, wrapping itself around him and stroking him slowly. He groaned again and you continued with slow lazy strokes, feeling his dick become harder in your hand. His tongue roamed your mouth and you let out a moan, squeezing him in the process. He let out a strangled moan and pulled away, looking at you with furrowed brows and squint eyes. “Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me…” He said burying his head in the pillow next to your head. His nose nuzzled the crook of your neck along with his huffs that he couldn’t hold in from your tortious strokes.

He lifted your lower body with one hand while striving your panty off with the other, discarding it somewhere on the bed. “You smell so nice.” He mumbled as he buried his nose deeper into your neck. “I do?” “Yeah…” he admitted as he softly took your hand by your wrist, stopping you from stroking him further. “If you go on like this I’m going to finish without us starting.” He said with a scoff. You let out a small giggle at that, he really doesn’t last long. His stamina in combat was unmatched, but when it came to bed he for some reason could barely make it through the foreplay.

He pushed himself up, shifting and aligning himself in front of your aching core. “You have to tell me when it becomes too much… I don’t want to hurt you.” He softly let his fingers strive over your bandaged wound, making your breath hitch. You nodded and he smiled. His left hand wrapped around your thigh, rubbing comforting circles while the other cupped your cheek as he pushed inside you, making sure to watch your expression for any signs of discomfort.

However there weren’t any, all he saw was your eyes closing and your brows furrowing ever so slightly. Your lips parted, a small noise escaping you as his base hit your folds, all of his inches fully inside. He found it fascinating how you always to him so well, never complaining as his length disappeared behind your warm and soft walls. He let out a hiss as he started moving, his thrusts slow and gentle for now, wanting to build up to how much you were able to take in your state.

With a whine your hand reached out to him, wanting him to come closer again. “It’s cold…” You whined. “You feeling cold, flower?” He asked, finding the way you whined endearing. He laid himself on top of you again, making sure his weight wasn’t on you. His arms wrapped around your waist and he hugged you close, kissing from your chest up to your neck and then your jaw, making sure to avoid your injury. He was around you like a living blanket and it instantly made you feel warmer, wrapping your arms around his broad back. “Better?” He asked as he kissed you on your forehead. “Y-Yeah…” You breathed out, his movement starting to rile you up. His pace sped up and he started to hit deeper spots, making you whimper and clench onto his back. A thin layer of sweat started to coat his forehead and you could see the baby hairs that framed his face become damp.

His hair was splayed around the two of you like a curtain, the occasional strand falling from his back over his shoulder from his thrusts. You tugged one side of his hair behind his ear to get a better look at his face, nuzzling his cheek while you were at it. He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as he let out a grunt, your gummy walls squeezing around him like you would never let him go. “Flower… stop teasing me.” He said between grunts. “I’m not doing anything.” You innocently said, a little smirk making its way to your lips. “You little tease.” He said as he pulled himself up again, removing his warmth from your body and making you whine. “That’s what you get for messing with me.” He said as he took your legs by the back of your knees, pressing the all the way up to your shoulders as he started thrusting deeper. You let out a loud moan, feeling him reach all your nice places this way as your head got foggy, moaning over and over again like a broken record with your fingers grabbing onto the sheets.

Seeing you like this, had him get lost in the act. Eyes glazed, boobs rocking with his rhythm and your tear stained cheeks, still covered in your dried tears from the argument before. You looked like the most seductive thing on earth to him. “Fuck… don’t look at me like that.” He said as his dick twitched inside of you, barely able to keep himself from coming. “Wanna enjoy this with you a little longer…” He kept groaning and huffing, his movement becoming more sloppy.

After a few minutes he couldn’t hold it in anymore, the tension between his brows disappeared and his eyes closed as he came, his load nestling itself inside of your womb as he lazily rode out his orgasm. The sight of you was just too much for him.

As he finished he opened his eyes, looking into your fucked out ones. Of course he wasn’t done yet. After all you still had some way to go until you released. With a chuckle he hoisted up your legs over his shoulders, trapping you between him and the bed.

“Don’t worry flower, I can go for a round two.”

———————————————————————

The way this man got me feeling ain’t normal. Like I can barely play the game because I just look at him too much? Idc what boss I’m fighting, he can go electro against electro resistance, my mans never going to get switched out.

You can request any time you like I also do other characters. (Especially if they serve cunt)

Love y’all stay safe <3

[dazedvivenne]

Okay I got this one from the ice breaker book but could you write something of Drew Starkey and reader where Drew gets home after a long day and strips reader and then walking over to the bed and lying down and when reader asks what he is doing he says something like “I’m waiting for you to come over and sit on my face. What does it look like I’m doing?” AHHHH THANK YOUUU!!!!

DREW STARKEY - PLEASURABLE TASTE

Short summary: Drew gets home and wants you ontop of him.

Trigger warning: cussing, mentions of cum, lots of oral, typical smut.

Drew walked into the apartment tired from running around all day while acting, it always got him very exhausted at the end of the day.

Drew unties his shoes and kicks them off, tossing his jacket on the coat rack. Walking into the living room of the house, you were sat on the couch watching a random movie with Justin Long casted in it.

Drew walked straight to the bedroom you both owned, leaving the door open on purpose. Slipping out of his grey joggers, pulling his shirt off of his body. Jumping onto his bed with a sigh.

You curiously walked into the bedroom, wondering why Drew didn’t greet you with a kiss and a hug as he usually does. You cross your arms over your chest, leaning on the door frame.

Rafe was laying on his back in the middle of his bed with a hard-on. He was fantasying about you all day, the curves of your body left a dent in his mind, wanting your perfect body on top of his. He felt hungry for you.

“Honey what’s wrong?” You asked with care, getting closer to the bed, Drew sits up, smirking at you.

Drew pulls your waist close to him, ripping your shirt over your head, pulling your pyjama bottoms down, leaving you not your lacy underwear. Drew’s fingers wrapped around the waist band of your underwear, slowly pulling them down.

You kicked them off, once you were fully nude Drew just laid back down. This left you feeling even more confused. “What’s your problem?” You ask softly, your nude body having the cold air hitting it, your nipples getting hard.

“My problem is you’re not sitting on my face.” Drew groans, “What else would my problem be?” Drew asked with a hushed tone.

You crawled on top of Drew, sitting on his chest. Looking down at him with a smile, “I said my fucking face baby.” Drew’s husky voice turning you on.

You slowly got closer to his face, shying a bit out. You and Drew had never done this before so you didn’t want to push any limits or suffocate Drew of anything.

Drew’s muscular arms wrapped around your thighs, pulling you on top of his face. His arms pulling you down so you were sat on top of him.

You felt Drew’s nose against your buzzing clit, Drew’s arms tightened around you as he started to eat you out like a mad man. A loud moan echoing out of your mouth.

“I love you.” Drew mumbled into your heat, his tongue licking your hole as his nose rubbed your clit. Drew’s hands travelled up to your breast, massaging them while always toying with your nipples.

“I love you too.” You whimpered, slapping a hand over your mouth when you realized you were being to loud. You back arched.

Drew’s hand left your breast and suddenly gripped at your wrist, pulling it away from your face. “Let me hear all your pretty moans.” Drew demanded, his hand letting go of your wrist and grabbing onto your hip.

You nodded your head, more moans and whimpers escaping your mouth. You felt your hips start to buck into Drew’s face as you felt your climax build up, “M’close.” Your voice was mumbled now, focusing on reaching the height of your climax.

Drew’s nose rubs your fast but his tongue stays at the same pace. Licking all of your juices up, his hand gently slapping your ass.

You moan loudly, feeling the butterflies in your stomach go loose, riding Drew’s face as you came all over his mouth. “Fuck.” You shouted, your chest heaving.

Once your high was over you got off of Drew, your hair slightly messy now. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t apologize, I fucking loved that.” Drew chuckled, licking his lips for the last taste of your juices. Drew’s hand running down to his hard-on, rubbing himself through his boxers.

You giggle a bit, crawling in front of Drew, slowly pulling his boxers down. His member springs out of the thin fabric underwear, you saw the glossy tip, knowing that was pre-cum.

“Fuck-“ a groan escapes Drew’s mouth, “You don’t have to do this honey.” Drew grumbled, watching as you grabbed onto his member and pumped it into your mouth.

Licking his pink tip, tugging the skin down then letting it fall back up only for you to tug it down again. Sucking on Drew’s tip.

Drew’s hand goes to your head, running his fingers through your hair, forcing your head a bit further down. “I’m close.” Drew groans, his hand pulling and pushing on your head.

Your mouth bouncing up and down on Drew’s dick, feeling his penis twitch in your mouth then you felt shots hit the back of your throat, you stroked it a little slower so Drew could ride out of his high.

You sucked all of his cum into your mouth, you took his penis out of your mouth with a pop. You smile at Drew. “Now we’re even.”

[luv4georgie]

ooohh a number 16 and 18 angst with lando omggg pls.

(your writing is so amazing )

the scientist.

Lando Norris x fem!reader

in which formula one star, Lando Norris, and “girlfriend”, Y/n L/n, go through some complications after Y/n finds a-few things out.

warnings: toxicasf!Lando, cheating, allusions to death, mental death, crying, a-lot of swearing, FLASHBACKS IN ITALICS

prompt list

prompts 16 and 18 for angst- “it was a dare” and “why am i always your last option?”

“tell me you love me, come back and haunt me.”

i was sad. not even sad. more than that. Lando had broken up with me. 2 years gone to waste. 2 years of me loving him. 2 years all a lie. nobody said it was easy, fair enough, but no-one ever said it would be so hard. i could never fall in love again. i just couldn’t. it hurt so much. it still does. every-time i think of it, it feels like a dagger goes through my heart. was it me? was i the problem? why was i so hard to love?

it was a Saturday night when Lando decided to confess. confess the biggest lie of my and maybe, just maybe, his life. “it was a lie.” Lando said. me, still laughing and oblivious to what was happening, responded. “what?” i said still laughing, not turning to face the ‘love of my life’ yet. “everything Y/n/n” i turned to face him, a smile still on my face which quickly dropped seeing his overly serious expression. he had tears in his eyes and looked like he was cowering. “what’s everything Lan?” i questioned again. tears fell from his eyes, then i knew it was bad. “our relationship. my love for you.”

then it happened my stomach did 100 flips, my heart beat 1000x faster. some odd taste popped up in my mouth and before i knew it i was running to my bathroom, throwing up. Lando hadn’t moved from where he was standing. he was crying, letting his head hang low. once i finished being sick. i washed my mouth out and slowly made my way to the living room which looked into my kitchen, where Lando was. on wobbly legs i walked up to him around 3 feet away from him. now i get it. now i get why he never wanted to move in with me. i get why he acted weird and always rejected my love around his stupid friends.

me and Lando was at the club with a few of his friends. he had cheated. i know he did. i didn’t leave though i stayed there. he didn’t bother touching me around his friends. he never has really. i watched Lando dance, grind and kiss on another girl. i was shocked but to drunk to care. i was upset nonetheless but just couldn’t wrap my head around it. i watched as he did the same with 3 other beautiful girls. that’s when i had enough. “Lando!” i shouted. i grabbed his wrist, told him he’s had a-lot of drinks and that he should slow down but he waved me off. offended i scoffed and ignored him. “a bit clingy, ay” i heard Max shout. “yeah, she’s always all over me it’s weird” Lando responded. my eyes widened and i shoved him out of my way and made my way to the the exit. “fucking move” some random man said. “shut up dumbass” i retorted.

“what did you just fucking say?” he said, pushing me really aggressively into another girl, one of the girls Lando was dancing with, who gave me the dirtiest look ever. i tried to say sorry but she slapped me. all i heard was one word getting chanted around ‘fight’. a circle formed around us both. i kept dodging her punches but still took a few. i didn’t hit her back. i didn’t want to. i couldn’t. suddenly i saw a familiar pair of arms wrap around the girls waist, who i found out to be called Chelsea. it was Lando. grabbing onto her waist and carrying her out of the exit. i scoffed again. tears pricked my eyes and i was so annoyed. i was that angry and pissed off i cried. i ran out of the exit and accidentally bumped into a wall-like chest. Lando. “where are you going?” he asked. i didn’t answer just wriggled out of his grasp and ran to the corner of some steps i saw earlier. he followed me. “why am i always your last option Lando? why? i’m your girlfriend, yet you help someone you met 10 minutes ago and comfort them. i don’t get it”. Lando being Lando told me i was overreacting, called an uber and took us both home.

“why are you fucking crying Lando?” i whispered. “you don’t get to fucking cry!” i shouted this time. tears stung my eyes and more fell from his. he dropped to his knees and cried pathetically. i just stared at him in disgust. “you’re fucking sick Lando” i said, my voice broken and wrecked. “sick. i can’t believe it. am i a joke? why am i so fucking hard to love?” i cried. “please baby, i’m sorry, it was a stupid dare and i laughed and did it” he begged. “you laughed at me? you fucking laughed at the idea of asking me to be your girlfriend. you knock me fucking sick Lando. fucking sick.” i cried and cried. he wouldn’t shut up, even after i told him to get out, he didn’t. he just kept saying sorry and please. i didn’t get it. am i that fucking hard to love. that’s when my life ended. everything inside of me died that night, even if i was physically there, i died.

-

AUTHORS NOTE: sorry this is really short, i’m literally just reflecting on my last relationship with this because most of this is a true story in my life but a-lot less worse, that ex hurt me in every-way possible and as we know Lando would never do something like that so please don’t say i have said he would. thank you. and thank you for all your support recently ❤️❤️

[specialagentlokitty]

Bobby Nash x reader - who you really are

Also, how about an Avatar/Water bender ish-like character where she interns/volunteers at the 118 and no one knows who she is- an avenger, intern at Stark etc- until something happens and she reveals who she is, but only cos she had to!! - @casserole-from-dads-asserole 💜

A/N: for anyone reading some changes were made through DM’s which is why it’s not like the request above

The 118 were your favourite part of working, you loved them like family, albeit an annoying family you loved them non the less.

But you didn’t love anybody more than Bobby, so when you heard he was in danger, you didn’t hesitate to go straight to the location.

Your heart was racing and you were panicking.

Bobby was like your father, you loved the man to death. He’s taught you so much, he’s always supported you, he’s all ways been there for you and never left your side.

You needed him by your side, and you were ready to let anything happen to him, even if it meant doing whatever it took to ensure his safety.

So when you arrived at the building he was supposedly in, you ran inside, shouting out his name desperately.

“Bobby?!”

You run through the building, checking each and every room as you go through, throwing open doors and shoving things out of your way.

You weren’t even on shift, you just happened to have heard the news on the police scanner as you were passing a few officers doing a routine traffic stop.

“Bobby?!” You shout again.

You pause for a moment, listening for any response, any sign he was there or he was okay.

When you didn’t get anything back you began to run again, making your way through the building while shouting his name.

As you turned down a hallway you heard a noise behind you and spun around, running in that direction.

“Bobby where are you?!”

You heard the noise again, a little to your right, so you barged through the door to find Bobby tied to a chair with duct tape on his mouth.

His eyes widened when he saw you, and he immediately started to shake his head and try shout at you.

Running over, you gently grab his jaw to hold his face still as you take the tape off.

“Sorry…”

Letting the tape fall to the ground, you grab his face between your hands and study it, checking him over for any injuries.

“You need to go!” He rushed out.

“Not without you!”

“(Y/N) go! The place is going to go up in flames! Get out of here!”

“Not without you Bobby! We still need you!”

Getting behind the chair, you work on trying to untie him as fast as you can.

It wasn’t often Bobby got panicked, so when he was panicked you knew there was a good reason behind it.

Your fingers shook and fumbled as you tried to untie him, a string of curses leaving your mouth that would definitely get you in trouble with Bobby later on.

That’s when you heard it, a small spark.

The sound of something catching fire and flames roaring all around, and while Bobby shouted your name in desperation you shouted his back.

You didn’t think about what you were doing, you just acted.

Getting up, you stood in front of him, bringing your hands out in front of you to practice the same routine you were so familiar with.

You move automatically, not having a second to process what you were doing while Bobby was sat there staring at you in pure shock, speechless.

You manipulated the air around you both, creating a vortex, almost like a safety bubbly to keep the pair of you safe from the raging flames.

The flames rose with the air, but never entered the vortex.

You work desperately to keep this up as the flames grew in size and strength, and when you had built up enough momentum you threw your hands to both sides of you.

Air surged all around the room, forcing the flames out and away, most of them immediately being extinguished.

Slowly you lowered your hands and turned to Bobby, kneeling behind him again as you finally managed to untie him with shaking hands.

He was still processing what he just saw you do as you led him out of the building, taking him a safe distance away to sit him down as sirens could be heard in the distance approaching.

“What…?” He whispered.

Bobby looked to the building then back at you, not entirely sure what he saw was real.

He could see the look on your face.

Uncertainty, sadness, and a hint of fear, and that seemed to snap him out of his shock.

“(Y/N)…”

He reached out, gently tugging you to sit in front of him, and he began to look you over to make sure that you weren’t hurt in any way, his parental instinct taking over.

He checked your face, then your clothes to make sure you didn’t catch any sparks, then he finally looked at you again.

“How did…? What…?”

He couldn’t complete a full sentence, he just kept trialing off but you knew exactly what he was trying to ask.

You just didn’t know what to tell him, and thankfully you didn’t have to answer his questions yes as the rest of the 118 arrived with Athena.

Standing up, you pat his head a few times before slowly backing away to let the others get to him, and while they fussed over him you quietly let the scene.

You knew you were going to have to tell him exactly what happened, exactly what you were one day, but right now you could buy yourself some more time by leaving.

Though Athena watched you go, a small frown on her face.

She was going to chase after you later, once she found out who was responsible for this

[podiumackles]

the moments that stay (they turn out all wrong)

In which the man she could never forget suddenly turns up at her cell, but he has no remembrance of the woman in front of him. And the moments that stayed with her for decades, turn out to be her memories only.

series masterlist

CHAPTER 3

A/N: English isn't my first language!! apologies in advance.

Outlines: After being his sidekick in Payback for years, you-better known as your supename Fury-ended up on the same end of Soldier Boy's violence as every other person. What you didn't realise, however, was that your old team had set you both up for betrayal, right when you thought you were helping them in getting him. After decades of being stuck in Vought's testing lab, you heard Soldier Boy got out. But the man who appeared in front of your cell wasn't the man you knew.

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of slight gore, mentions of blood, mentions of death, and possibly wrong storytelling in lines of the canon events. I'm not that good at remembering, guys. and the boys was just kinda complicated. forgive me.

Present

Getting out of your cell was easier than expected. The hard part was getting out of the facility alive; about twenty minutes into the escape, alarm bells rang out like a symphony of dread, filling the cold, sterile corridors. It wasn’t surprising, really—Vought’s security wasn’t going to let you walk out unharmed. Still, for the first time in decades, your wrists were free from the biting restraints, and adrenaline surged through your veins.

You ran alongside Butcher, who seemed to have an uncanny knack for navigating the labyrinthine facility. His movements were sharp and purposeful. It was clear he had done his homework on this place, even if Vought’s playbook was constantly evolving. Soldier Boy was ahead, his broad shoulders cutting a path through the narrow hallways like a battering ram.

“Thought you said you had this under control!” you shouted over the wail of the alarms, your voice rusty but gaining strength.

Butcher smirked, barely winded. “Oh, this? Bit of noise never hurt nobody.”

Ben shot a glance back at the two of you, his shield gripped tightly in one hand, his jaw clenched. He looked as though he was barely holding himself together—rage simmering just beneath the surface. You couldn’t blame him. Whatever memories Vought had buried inside him, they still left scars. And now, the sound of blaring alarms running through his ears, must trigger his fight or flight response. There was no doubt about it.

“We need to hit the control room,” Butcher said, his voice urgent now. “Shut down the security before they send the big guns.”

You and Soldier Boy exchanged a glance. His eyes still carried that haunting vacancy, but a flicker of something else—recognition, maybe—crossed his face. He jerked his head forward, signalling for you to keep moving. Old habits died hard. Even after everything, he still acted like a leader.

The trio turned a sharp corner just as a squad of Vought soldiers appeared at the other end of the corridor. You didn’t hesitate. Throwing yourself to the floor, you slid behind a row of metal crates, while Soldier Boy charged forward like a freight train. His shield crashed against the soldiers, sending them flying, their weapons useless against his brute force and super healing.

Butcher stayed low, pulling a gun from his coat and taking a few well-placed shots, neutralizing the ones that hadn’t already been knocked out cold by Ben. The man moved with ruthless precision, not a shred of hesitation in his actions. You wondered how many people like you and Ben he’d already dealt with, how much he’d seen. But that was a question for later. For now, survival was your only priority.

“Clear,” Butcher muttered, nodding for you to get up.

“We won’t have much time,” you said, still catching your breath. The alarms were one thing, but Vought had been keeping an eye on every single corner of the facility with the carefully hidden cameras around the building.

“Yeah, no fucking shit,” Ben muttered, shaking off some dust mixed with blood from his shield as if this were a regular Tuesday for him. “Where’s this control room?”

You pointed ahead. “Up two floors. We take the stairs—elevator’s a death trap.”

Your mind was racing with thoughts of escape. But there was another gnawing question you couldn’t shake: Why were they here, really? Why you?

As the three of you burst through the stairwell door and ascended the steps, your legs burning with the effort, you felt the weight of the years clawing at you. Your muscles were stiff, your body weak from disuse, but the rage—the fury—inside you was enough to keep you moving. You were sick of being someone else’s pawn.

Suddenly, Ben stopped at a landing, holding out his arm. You froze, instinctively falling back into soldier mode. “What is it?” you whispered.

“Listen.”

You strained your ears, and sure enough, your superhearing enhanced the heavy clank of footsteps echoing from above. A lot of footsteps.

“They’re sending the backup troops,” You muttered. “They think we’re trapped.”

Butcher grinned, something dark and predatory in his eyes. “Let ‘em come. They don’t know what’s comin’ for ‘em.”

You tightened your fists, feeling the heat of your powers surging just beneath your skin. It hurt, just the slightest. It had been so long since you had the chance to use them—so long since you’d felt anything beyond the dull ache of confinement.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Butcher asked, glancing at you with an eyebrow raised.

You looked him dead in the eye, trying to hide your hesitation. “Always am.”

The first wave of guards came pouring down the stairs, fully armed, faces masked. Without hesitation, Ben launched himself into the fray, shield gleaming as it smashed into the front line. Butcher followed, a pistol in one hand and a combat knife in the other, carving through the chaos.

You stood back for a moment, feeling the pulsing heat build in your hands, until finally, with a sharp exhale, you unleashed it. Energy—wild, untamed wind—exploded from your palms, sending the next wave of soldiers crashing back into the walls. The surge felt powerful, like shaking off the chains that had weighed you down for years.

But most of all, it was stronger than it ever had been. The most powerful you had ever felt. And you barely dared to admit that it scared you.

Ben glanced back, eyes wide for the briefest of moments when he looked at you before he returned to dispatching the remaining guards.

“Not bad,” Butcher commented, smirking through the chaos. Though an unfamiliar look crossed his eyes.

Once the stairwell was clear, the three of you sprinted up the last flight of steps and into the corridor leading to the control room. You could hear more guards closing in behind you, but the door ahead was just within reach. With a mighty kick, Soldier Boy knocked it open, and the three of you burst into the room, slamming the door shut behind you.

Two of Vought’s employees shot around in their chairs, a look of horror flashed on their innocent faces right before Soldier Boy lifted his shield, moved it at the height of their necks and-

Two heads rolled over de floor.

The air was thick with tension, punctuated by the shrill wails of the alarms still echoing through the facility. The walls were lined with glowing monitors, displaying a maze of surveillance footage, flashing red warnings, and floor plans. This was the heart of Vought’s operations.

Butcher wasted no time, moving swiftly to one of the terminals. He began typing with a speed and confidence that suggested this wasn't his first time hacking into a heavily fortified system. Meanwhile, Ben paced near the door, shield in hand, his eyes darting between you and the hallway as if expecting another wave of soldiers any second.

You, however, stood frozen for a moment, taking in the room—the remembrance of decades of torment, experimentation, and manipulation. You thought you’d feel more relief standing here, so close to freedom, but instead, an overwhelming uncertainty bubbled just beneath your skin.

“Are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna help?” Butcher barked, not even looking up from the terminal. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he tried to override the system’s security protocols.

You snapped out of your daze and approached another terminal, feeling the heat of your powers still crackling under your skin. And it still hurt.

Before you could respond, Soldier Boy's sharp voice cut through the air. "We've got company."

The door behind him shook under the pressure of a battering ram. Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor as more of Vought’s enforcers gathered outside, their numbers growing by the second.

“Of course we bloody do,” Butcher muttered, his eyes never leaving the screen. “We’re almost through—just a bit more time.”

You clenched your fists, the air around you shimmering with energy that was so unfamiliar, it sent a shiver down your spine. "We don't have time, Butcher. I can feel them—they’re coming fast."

Ben squared his shoulders, stepping forward to brace the door. The rage that always seemed to simmer beneath his surface was now boiling over. He was done waiting, done being manipulated. “Let them come,” he growled, his shield raised, ready to take on whatever came through that door.

Butcher glanced at you, something like hesitation flickering in his eyes. It was a look you didn’t yet know he could have. “You’ve got a plan, love? ‘Cause if we don’t shut this down now, Vought’ll be all over us.”

The door rattled violently as Vought’s forces hammered against it, each thud reverberating through the control room.

"Me, a plan?" you spat ever so lightly, mild accusation in your tone. "You were the ones that needed me out!"

But Butcher didn't respond. Neither did Ben, for that matter.

Time was running out, and the tension was as thick as the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You focused, taking in the situation: Butcher was close to breaking the system, Ben was ready to stand his ground, and you—well, you weren’t the same person who had been shackled in that cell for decades. You had something new simmering inside, something dangerous. And you could feel it in every single piece of your body.

Your powers crackled just beneath the surface, stronger than you had ever remembered. The years of confinement, of being forced into silence, had built a storm within you, and you were ready to let it loose. But you knew this wasn’t you. This had never been you.

Ben stood firm by the door, his broad shoulders braced against the inevitable. His eyes flicked toward you, still cold, still distant. He was ready to fight, but this was a fight you had never been in before. A complete stranger, and a man who couldn’t even remember you, stood by you. And you had no idea if you could rely on them.

Butcher’s voice broke through your thoughts. “We’re in!” he called, finally cracking the security system. “But they’ve got some heavy-duty encryption on this place. It’ll take a few more minutes to wipe the files and shut down the alarms.”

You glanced at Ben. He was steady, but he couldn’t hold off a full squad alone. And your powers—they felt unpredictable. But you didn’t have a choice. Vought was coming, and this was your only chance.

The door shuddered again, and you could hear the muffled voices of the soldiers outside, preparing for a final push. You turned to Butcher. “You’d better hurry. We don’t have minutes.”

He looked at you, his jaw clenched, but nodded. “Just keep them off me, yeah? I don’t fancy getting me head blown off ‘cause you got distracted.”

Asshole.

With a deep breath, you stepped forward, joining Ben at the door. “You got an idea?” you asked, voice low.

Ben shot you a glance, his grip tightening on his shield. “You think I haven’t done this a thousand times? Just stay out of my fucking way.”

You didn’t respond. There was no point. Whatever bond the two of you once had was long gone, buried beneath the years of torture and manipulation. But that didn’t matter now. What mattered was getting through this.

The door burst open, and Vought’s soldiers flooded in. Ben moved like a force of nature, his shield slamming into the first soldier with a sickening crunch. He was fast, brutal, and efficient—every movement a practised execution of raw power. But there were too many.

You felt the heat rise in your palms, the energy building, and it hurt. It hurt so fucking bad. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before. It used to be a sweet touch of weather, the comforting droplets of rain. But this was different.

It neared a breaking point. Both your power and your well-being. At its maximum power, you lost control. And with a sharp exhale, you unleashed it. The energy exploded from you in a blinding wave, tearing through the room like wildfire. The soldiers were thrown back, their bodies crashing into the walls with bone-shattering force. Bolts of lightning crackled between the men, ensuring death upon impact.

Even Ben was forced to brace himself against the onslaught, his shield raised in defence. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, barely having evaded your attack from reaching him. But he didn’t say anything.

You were out of control. And there was no way you could contain this power any longer. Fuck, you weren't even sure what was going on. You weren't even sure if you were conscious.

When the dust settled, the room was eerily quiet. The soldiers lay scattered, unconscious or worse, and the air was thick with the smell of burnt metal and ozone. You fell to the floor, breathing heavily, your hands still crackling with residual power. For a moment, you didn’t feel anything—just numbness.

Then Butcher’s voice cut through the silence. “Well, that was bloody brilliant,” he muttered, stepping back from the terminal. “Shut down the whole damn system. Alarms are off, security’s locked out. We’re good to go.”

You turned to face him, your body still trembling from the power you barely remembered releasing. “It’s done?”

Butcher nodded, a grim smile on his face. “Yeah, love. It’s done. Now we get the hell out of here.”

Ben lowered his shield, his face unreadable as he looked at you. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was a glimmer of something other than cold indifference in his eyes. Maybe he remembered something. Maybe it was fear.

You didn't care.

You spoke up once more, this time directing your gaze towards Ben, who held a seemingly shocked frown. “What on earth happened?”

Soldiers scattered in the hallway, remains of them smashed against the bloodied wall.

Soldier Boy didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at Butcher, who knowingly glanced back at the supe.

All you could do was look around at the aftermath of whatever had happened to you.

And what feared you the most, was the fact you could only vaguely remember what the answer to it was.

A/N: as always, feedback is appreciated! let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @demodemo909 @deangirl96 @mostlymarvelgirl @n-o-p-e-never

[tkaulitzlvr]

could u do 2008 tom getting in an argument with the reader and after arguing a lot, the reader just tries to go to bed. after a couple mins, tom realizes he was wrong and tries to climb in bed with the reader and is like super clingy and tries to touch the reader but gets ignored. and he’s all like “yk how i get when i can’t touch you” AUGHH😩😩 and then it’s js smut that ends with fluff/aftercare

btw ur my fav writer ever i absolutely adore ur writing 🖤

LET ME SHOW YOU - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you are tired of arguing, deciding to go to bed before things get too out of hand. tom realises that he has messed up, but you are being stubborn, still not over what he has done. he doesn’t give up so easily, begging to get what he wants.

content: angst to smut, little bit of fluff throughout.

a/n: thank u so much that really means a lot!! love this idea, i hope u enjoy!💞

“you know what? i’m done. i’m tired of explaining this to you when you clearly don’t get it.” i huff, shaking my head and running my hands through my hair.

“you’re right. i don’t get it. you’re mad at me for doing my job!” he shoots back, eyes cold and dark, jaw clenched as he stands across from me on the other side of the kitchen.

“you can’t be fucking serious! don’t paint me as some clingy selfish girlfriend when all i’m asking is that you don’t come home at midnight every night, and go straight to bed! it’s like we aren’t even together anymore. we live in the same house but we never talk, never communicate. you only show me affection if it’s a quick kiss or hug, or you want sex.” i rant, fuming at his lack of mindfulness, failing to believe how he is so oblivious.

“what so we’re just lying now, is that what this is?” he scoffs, taking a breath before continuing. “cause you know that’s not true. i always hug you, kiss you, tell you i love you, don’t i? and you know that i value you way beyond sex, so don’t even go there.”

“you’re completely missing the point!”

“then what is the fucking point?”

his voice raises far higher than mine, louder than it ever has before. he would never raise his voice at me, not like this. my mouth opens, tears clouding my vision as i am taken aback at his sudden outburst, but he doesn’t seem to care, my silence only seen as an invitation to keep going.

“hm, what is the point? you’ve always known that my job demands a lot of me, and i told you that it would be difficult, but i’m trying my best. if i could be with you more, i would. you know that we’re pushing to get this album perfect, so can you give me a fucking break and stop acting like i’m some awful boyfriend?” he shouts, anger laced within every word, each one stabbing me right in the heart, making me feel stupid for even bringing this whole conversation up. i just missed him, but he couldn’t seem to understand why.

i nod my head, pursing my lips together as the tears cascade down my cheeks.

“okay. i’m going to bed.” i whisper, not waiting for him to respond, turning away from him and leaving the kitchen, trudging up the stairs towards our bedroom. he doesn’t follow me, instead i hear a loud bang come from the kitchen, his fist colliding with the counter as he curses in frustration.

the room is strangely cold as i walk into it, completely dark with little natural light coming through the window despite the curtains still being wide open, reminding me of how late it is - and how long i had been waiting for tom to come home. my feet walk along the carpet, the floorboards creaking a little until i arrive at my bed, climbing into it and letting the covers embrace me, instead of tom. i feel numb, not enough energy in me to cry, yet too upset to just sleep it off. instead, i stare out of the window, the cityscape invading my eye line as i try to distract myself from what had just happened, watching the world around me as it moves on and on, wishing that i could do the same.

the door slowly creaks open, my head turning in its direction as tom walks through it, his expression one of pure regret. he is silent, not saying a word as he goes over to the mirror, taking his cap off and placing it gently on the dresser, taking his dreads out of their ponytail, his eyes suddenly meeting mine through the mirror as i stare into them.

“baby can we talk?” he says, still looking at me through the mirror as he removes his shirt, folding it neatly and leaving it on top of the dresser, his bare back facing me from across the room.

“about what?” i scoff, finally breaking the eye contact and laying down, staring motionlessly at the ceiling. “you were pretty sure of what you said, there’s nothing else to speak about.”

my gaze still fixed on the ceiling, i hear him step away from the mirror, walking cautiously towards the bed. i feel it dip beside me, before two arms snake around my waist.

i roughly pull away from his grip, taking his hands and shoving them back in his direction, not falling for his attempts to iron out the tension, especially ones that involve him putting his hands on me.

“baby…you know i didn’t mean any of that.” he calmly speaks, trying again to touch me, this time taking my hand in his. once again, i refuse, shuffling even further away from him.

“can you not touch me? i’m not in the mood for your shitty apologies just- go to sleep.” my voice is harsh, hurt taking over his expression as i speak, but i don’t feel an ounce of sympathy for him. instead, seeing him experience even a fraction of the sadness that he had just put me through satisfies me.

“leibe…please listen to me. i’m so sorry.” he begins, turning onto his side so that he is now facing me. “i’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately, you don’t deserve that. i’ve just been so caught up with the album and it brought me away from you, but i shouldn’t have let it. please baby, please forgive me. i’ll never let this happen again.”

as he comes to the end of his speech, his hand tentatively reaches for my cheek, his thumb trying to stroke the skin, but i move backwards, becoming irritated at his ignorance.

“are you deaf? stop touching me tom!” i ignore his apology, because right now, it means nothing to me, his initial words still a fresh wound. no apology, no matter how sincere, would be enough to make me forget them just yet.

“schatz, please, you know how i get when i can’t touch you. don’t accept my apology, don’t talk to me, i get it, i deserve it. but please my love, just let me hold you, that’s all i want.” he begs, his voice reducing to a whisper as it cracks a little.

his love language had always been physical touch, and, even when we were fighting, he would always hold me whilst we slept, no matter how mad i was. i knew that me refusing his touch was getting to him and, despite me being completely infuriated, it was impossible to ignore the slight pang of guilt that settled in my heart as i listened to his pleas.

i say nothing, moving a little closer to him, leaving enough space so that he would have to reach out to be able to touch me. he takes my silence as a yes, inching his body closer to mine, his arms pulling me tightly into him, his head resting in the crook of my neck. i feel him relax a little, his shoulders dropping as he pulls me further into his embrace, holding me so tightly that i can feel his heartbeat from within his chest. his breathing tickles my neck, his head snuggling into it as he takes in my scent, clearly having missed being this close to me. but still, i say nothing, giving him this small sense of comfort though anger still courses through my veins, in no position to forgive him just yet. however, it is impossible to deny the security i gain from his embrace, the way his hands run comfortingly up and down my back giving me a sense of contentment that only he can bring.

“i love you. i love you so much.” he whispers into my neck, planting a short and soft kiss there. “you’ll never understand how much i love you baby, you’re everything to me, my whole world.”

his hands begin to caress my lower back, travelling downwards and giving my ass a soft squeeze as his lips plant slow kisses on my neck and collarbone, all whilst he continues to whisper sweet nothings into my ear, pouring his heart out whilst his movements begin to increase - making his intentions crystal clear.

“tom please, not now. i’m still mad at you.” i say, trying to keep my voice stern, but an elongated sigh pours from my parted lips once his find the spot below my ear that makes me go crazy.

“you won’t be once i’m finished, i promise baby. just let me show you what you mean to me, mhm?” he asks, pulling his head from my neck to look into my eyes, a glint of desperation present within them.

i study his features, starting at his brown eyes - warm and enticing, looking into mine with so much admiration, so much love. his skin, smooth and flawless, unable to count how many times i have felt it against mine. his lips, soft and inviting, decorated with a small metal ring, loving how it would always feel against me, the harshness of it always contrasting with the warmth of his lips as they would move against mine.

and it is that small glance that makes me give in, my hands reaching for his head as i pull it downwards, quickly joining his lips with mine. he is taken aback, but it only takes him a few seconds to kiss me back, cupping my face with his hands and bringing me in even closer, our bodies merging as one.

he pulls away, a soft smile tugging on his lips as he begins to gently remove my clothing, starting with my shorts, kissing upwards until he reaches my hoodie, that soon following, leaving me in only my lingerie.

“so perfect.” he mutters, pecking my lips. “you’re so beautiful meine liebe, you know that?”

my cheeks heat up at his words as they spill like liquid gold from his pink lips, our fight feeling further and further away. it becomes harder to imagine that it ever happened, the way he touches me with such care making it seem almost impossible.

his clothes already off as he always sleeps in just his boxers, he reaches to remove his underwear, turning his attention to my own panties, letting them join the existing pile of clothes scattered around the room.

he moves to the top of the bed, sitting with his back resting against the headboard, gently picking me up and placing me into his lap as i straddle his waist, hands resting his shoulders as i stare into his eyes, a little nervous as i am never usually the one on top.

“tom i-”

“shhh, you’re okay, just ride.” he comforts, moving loose strands of hair from my face, placing a reassuring kiss on my lips.

i nod hesitantly, lifting my hips up and sliding down onto him, moaning as i take him in, my walls stretching as they become accustomed to his size. tom’s head has fallen backwards, fingers digging into my hips a little as his lips are parted, no noise escaping from them.

once i am used to his size, i begin to bounce slowly, picking up a steady rhythm as tom continues to hold on to my hips, helping me move.

“doing so well baby. just like that.” he sighs, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, eyes squeezing shut.

it doesn’t take long for my legs to ache, no longer able to continue moving up and down, already tired. my movements are slow and lethargic, almost half-hearted as i try my best to keep going, chasing my release as i crave it more than anything, tom clearly feeling the same as his hold on my waist only tightens, his grip strong enough to leave faint marks on the skin.

“i can’t.” i whine, frustrated that i can’t keep going, completely spent. i fall forwards, collapsing onto tom’s chest, still inside him as he slowly thrusts upwards into me, his arms wrapping around my back as he kisses my forehead.

“you did so good baby, don’t worry.”

those are the only words he says before swiftly flipping us over, my back flush against the mattress as he begins to thrust into me at a relentless pace from above, my mouth falling open as loud moans pour from it, his name a mantra as it effortlessly falls from my lips. he hits places within me that have never been touched before, so deep inside me that i can feel him in my stomach, a small bulge visible as he moves in and out of me.

“love you so much, fuck-” tom groans, his hands on my thighs as he kneads the flesh, prying them further apart as the pleasure prompts them to try close around his waist.

“getting close baby, you close?” he mutters, moving his head so that his forehead is against mine, eyes studying my face as he awaits my response.

all i can do is let out an almost inaudible ‘mhm’, so close to my release that i can almost feel it, the knot in my stomach ready to burst any second. the way his dick twitches inside of me tells me that he is there too, his thrusts irregular.

“let go schatz, cum for me.” he says, watching as my face twists in pleasure, my release washing over me, the pressure of his coming at the same time too much as i squeeze my eyes shut, hands clutching onto his upper arms. my entire body shakes, the feeling overwhelming, mouth open in a silent scream as tom moans into my ear, still rocking in and out of me slowly, riding out our highs.

i am completely spent, laying motionless beneath him, my throat raw from the sounds that had emitted from it, breathing heavy and reckless. tom pulls out, wiping a few tears from my eyes that i hadn’t even realised had fallen, kissing the skin afterwards.

“you okay baby? you did so good, did i go too hard?” he says, my mind not fully registering what he is saying as i am completely exhausted, eyes starting to flutter shut. “you can’t sleep yet, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

i manage a weak nod, feeling tom lift me up bridal style, carrying me into the bathroom and carefully placing me on the counter. he walks over to the bath, turning the taps on and letting the water run, before rushing back over to me, taking a damp cloth and wiping me with it as a jolt when he is a little too rough, the area sensitive.

“sorry baby.” he mutters, kissing my forehead, separating my legs and moving to stand between them, embracing me in a hug and resting his head on top of mine whilst the bath fills up, small ‘i love you’s’ escaping his lips as he rubs my back, trying to soothe me in any way he can.

after a couple of minutes, he picks me up, gently placing me in the bath as the water submerges me, the warmth of it already easing the aching pain that runs through my body. he climbs in behind me as i sit between his legs, my back against his chest.

he washes my hair, massaging the shampoo into my scalp as my head falls backwards onto his shoulder, the feeling relaxing me even more, completely at peace in his arms. he moves to my body, carefully washing the delicate skin, planting occasional kisses on my shoulders and back as my breathing slows, on the verge of falling asleep.

he sees that i am too tired to stand up myself, picking me up and carrying me out as i wrap my arms and legs around him. he finds a towel, setting me back on the counter and drying my body, leaving the bathroom for a second and returning with some fresh ‘pyjamas’ - which consisted of a random t-shirt of his and some clean panties.

“come on baby, put these on then we can go to bed, mhm?” he says as i lift my arms up, allowing him to place the t-shirt onto my small frame, the material hanging off my figure as it reaches my knees. he takes my panties, moving them up my legs slowly, my hips bucking upwards so he can fully put them on me, finally putting his own underwear on.

he takes me to the bedroom, tucking me into bed and placing the covers over me, climbing in beside me, his arms wrapping around my waist as i cuddle into him.

“i’m so sorry for everything. i love you.” he whispers, kissing my hair softly.

i mutter a small ‘love you’ against his chest, falling asleep within minutes, completely exhausted.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[petriwriting]

Vero Amore - Theodore Nott X Reader (Part 3.)

Summary: Theodore is on trial for being associated with voldemort due to his father and family history, His odds arent looking so good. Luckily for him you are called to the stand to testify on his behalf, and you just might be the key to his innocence.

Fluff, established previous relationship, Exbf!Theo, Older!Theo and others. Post hogwarts.

(Previous part)

The courtroom is colder than it was before. Your escort repeated their previous actions, and you sat in the center of the room again. At least this time, you were slightly more prepared. "Witches and Wizards of the court, we will now resume the trial of The ministry Vs. Theodore Nott after our thirty-five minute intermission." The wizengamot states. You are thrilled for this to all be over. Just like before, using the same process, your memories are awaiting the prying eyes of the jury. The memory begins, on display for the whole room to see, you are uncomfortable to share this vulnerable moment, but you would be grateful if it could help the trial move along and aid in proving Theodore innocent. 

You are late in your Fifth year at hogwarts. The air is cold, and the windchill is almost unbearable. The halls are quiet, students whisper as they rush by. Everything feels tense. Even the quidditch players are quiet today. There is an ominous gray cloak over the whole school. Nothing feels the same as it did just a year prior. It's as if everything is within a shadow, a terrified knowing of what's to come. You catch Thedore rushing from the Slytherin Dungeons, paying no mind to those he passed bumping shoulders in the busy hall. By the time you catch up to him, you are both on the wooden bridge, he is trying to leave. There's no one else around. "Theo," you call out, but Theo is unresponsive. "Theo!" you say, running forward to face him. Theodore stops, and turns to face you. His face is pale, as if he hasn't eaten in days, as if he's been cursed. His eyes are red, maybe from tears or so many restless nights he looks drained, and you are heartbroken for him. "Teddy," you say gently. "what's going on?" you ask. Theodore stays silent, and turns away from you, as if he's embarrassed. You are now looking at the back of his body. He's too shaken up to even face you. "ted?" you ask again, "please say something," you beg, he stays silent for a few more minutes before barely choking out the words; "I can't see you anymore." it's not going to work out between us." he says. you are hurt, confused. you were the one that promised him you'd be there for him no matter what happened. You were there for him, through everything, even times when his father made him do unthinkable acts. "what are you talking about?" you scoff, as if in disbelief. "You know exactly what I mean. we are never going to work out." he says, his voice is stone cold, and somewhat lifeless. The warmth of his laughter is gone, the wittiness of his jokes faded away, maybe for good this time. "Theodore," you say breathlessly. ". . . You can't abandon everything we have, just for the approval of your father!" you exclaim. The words stung on his skin but you were starting to feel the effects of heartbreak for yourself, your voice waivers cracking and becoming weak "after everything?" you question barely able to choke out the words. "Everything we've been through?" you shout, he takes a few steps away. "It's not fair. Theo, this can't keep us apart." you are desperately pleading, tears falling onto your cheeks feel like relief. "Theodore, look at me!" you demand, walking up to him again, Theodore looks at you, there's only a small part of you that still see's innocence left in his eyes, even if it is a little. "it's over." he says, his voice stern, he's holding himself together well despite his heart being broken. "no, No!" you say. You are insistent that he is wrong, that this is some kind of sick nightmare and you'd soon wake up in the safety of his arms. But it was not. "you're making this so hard." Theo says. "It doesn't matter what your father says we can-'' your desperation is interrupted, "This isn't about my father." Theo says, reaching to roll up his sleeve to reveal the dark mark. You gasp, quietly, unable to think straight. You didn't think he would actually go through with it, but now you were even more concerned he had turned to the wrong side, that his father and Voldemort had somehow brainwashed him into being a pure-blooded supremacist death eater. It was a mix of confusion and disbelief. "Ted," you said gently, brushing your thumb over the dark mark. Theodore craves your touch, but pulls away quickly. "Don't follow me" he orders, he's beginning to walk away, but as you utter three words he is rushing off, "I love you." he goes further across the wooden bridge, you cannot see his face but he is crying, holding his composure surprisingly well. disapparting when he was nearing the end of the bridge. He was gone.

As you sat in the courtroom, your chest ached with sorrow. That was such a bad memory for you, the last time you ever saw him before seeing him in the courtroom for the trial. You never got to say I love you, or even Goodbye. He left you there with a broken heart. You wished you could just have the ministry erase these memories, so you wouldn't have to relive them ever again. A few tears come to your eyes and you wipe them away quickly. The memories they had from you were all swirling in the silvery liquid in the pensive, so you thought it was unkind to show one of your most painful ones. It just didn't seem fair. The courtroom fell silent. 

"Ms. L/N," the wizengamot begins, "We would like to produce further questions." he says, someone from the jury scurries down to the front. " you were still ready for this to all be over. 

"Ms. L/N," the man began. "Please describe the nature of your relationship with Mr. Nott," he asks. you sighed softly before answering. "...I was in love with him. I would have done anything to make sure he was okay. We were together for a few years in school." you explain. "And was Mr.Nott ever late for class, tardy, or mischievous in any way during the school year?" He asked. "Theo- Mr. Nott, was never late for class or tardy that I am aware. He was always there, he loved to learn. I can't say regarding his mischief, I'd have to ask you to define the word first." you say. there would be a lot of back and forth, the jury asking questions like this, and you answering honestly right away. If they were trying to catch you in a lie, It would not work simply because you were only telling the truth. "Was Mr. Nott ever violent with you or others?" he asks. "No. Absolutely not." you say. "Did Mr.Nott ever speak to you about his missions or assignments?" the man asked again. "No." you said matter-of-factly. "I only knew of when he was told to cut me off, and he never directly told me that. It was Draco Malfoy who told me." you say. "Were you always personally involved with death eaters?" the man asks. This is quite the overstep. you are slightly offended, but don't press any further. "No." you say. "thank you Ms. L/N." the man says, receding back into the jury. You fidgeted with your thumbs. You'd been in the courtroom for hours at this point, tired and not excited to keep going. You looked back behind you, catching a quick glance of Theodore.

[actually-well-written]

Zombies can't have pets? Let's change that.

Zed necrodopolis x reader (NSFW)

"A five, six seven, eight!" Shouts a small voice chants a cheer, echoing through the tunnels.

Trying to get away from the loud music and green smoking from the zombie party, which was held underground in a bunker, making it impossible to escape the noise. Yet (Y/n) was able to hear the voice and follow it through the path and soon became curious as to who was chatting.

Finally, she soon reaches a space in the bunker. A room that's small and cramped space with little natural light, as it is hidden underground, and instead was decorated with lights. A staircase leading out of the bunker stands in the middle of the room, the base covered with cardboard, somewhat resembling a stage.

(Y/n) Turns the corner and finds a little girl with green pigtails , waving around white pom-poms and chanting the same cheer your cousin Alison gave at Zed's first football game.

"That's really good." (Y/n) Smiles, walking closer.

The little girl gasps and stops. She quickly gets of the 'stage' and hides her pom-poms behind her dog plushie.

"I wasn't cheering!" She states, holding her hands behind her back as if she was just caught with a cookie jar.

(Y/n) Giggles, "it's ok. I won't tell a soul." She promises, pretending to sip her lips. "You must be Zoey. Zed's sister."

"I am. Are you (Y/n)?"

"The one and only. How'd you know?" She asks, sitting down on the 'stage'.

"Zed talks about you a lot. When he thinks I'm not around." She explains, sitting down next to her, dog plush in hand.

"Oh, yeah? What's he say?"

"That your really pretty." She combs her fingers through the dogs stuffed fur. "And you 'have a nice rack'? I don't know what that means." She deadpans.

(Y/n) Chocks in her own spit in surprise, "oh, that so?" She covers the bottom half of her face with her hand, resting her elbow on her knee. Blushing at both the fact Zed thinks something like that about her and the possibility he says more things like that about her.

"Do you like cheering?" She asks, trying to change the subject and calm her blush on her face.

"Yeah! I love cheer!" She smiles. "Your cousins good."

"She is isn't she?"

"Zoey?! What are you doing here?" Zed pops out from being the corner.

"Please. I'm not gonna miss a zombie mash." Zoey sasses.

Zed rolls his eyes playfully and leans on the wall, crossing his arms, "well, come on. The party is almost over and you need to go to bed."

"Oh, come on." She pouts, but then smirks, and starts clapping her hands and patting her lap. "Come on. Who's a good boy?"

Zed tenses as he looks over at (Y/n) nervously, afraid to act like a dog in front of his crush. (Y/n) Only Raises an eyebrow in confusion as Zed looks around the room in embarrassment. He sighs and quietly lets out a bark, his arms still crossed.

"Zed?" Zoey asked confused at why her older brother suddenly doesn't want to participate in their inside joke.

(Y/n), now somewhat understanding what's happening, starting patting her lap as well. "Come on, Zed! Be a good boy for Zoey." She giggles.

Zed's eyes widen in shock, and he blushes at the fact (Y/n) just called him a good boy. Even if he was aware it was a joke.

Zed shakes his head, but his blush doesn't go away, so he carries on with the act. Panting and hanging his hands under his chin. He barks and woofs, making his way to Zoey and kneeling down.

She pats his head and shakes his 'paw'. "Good boy." She praises.

"Yeah. What a good boy~" (Y/n) teases. Smirking at the now even redier zombie before her.

Zed clears his throat, "uh-Zoey? G-go find Eliza. She'll take you home." His voice just as flushed as his face.

Zoey nods, getting up and taking her pom-poms and her plushie. She runs off back down the tunnel back to the party.

"Bye, Zoey!" (Y/n) Shouts. "She's cute kid."

"Yeah. Um, thanks?" Zed stands back up, (Y/n) following.

"What was that about?" She asks, giggling.

Zed scratches the back of his neck, "just something I do to cheer her up. She wants a dog."

"Why can't she have one?"

Zed raises his eyebrows confusion at the question, "cause Zombies can't have one?"

"What?! That's so messed up!"

"You didn't know?"

She shakes her head, "Zed if I never meet you I would still believe all the propaganda they show us humans."

"Right, propaganda. I know that word." He rambles, the last bit of his blush finally fading.

"Well, what about you?"

"Me?"

"What would you like to have as a pet?"

"Oh, when I was younger I wanted a bunny."

"Oh." And that's when it hit her. And idea. A fun idea. "A bunny?"

Zed chuckles, "yeah, yeah. A football player likes cute little animals. What can I say, I'm not following a stereotype."

"Do you have anything important tomorrow?"

"Huh?"

"In your classes?"

Zed smirks and crosses his arms, "are you suggesting we play hookie?"

(Y/n) Playfully scoffs, "nooo, I was simply going to ask if you would meet me in the zombie safe zone we meet in during lunch."

"What for?"

She shrugs, "find out~"

"Um, ok?"

(Y/n) Smiles and kisses his cheek. "Alright, see you tomorrow!" She waves good bye and runs back the same way as Zoey.

Zed places his hand over the kiss and smiles. What is she planning? He thought.

___________________________________________________________________

"(Y/n)? Are you here?" Zed whisper-yells, as he closes the hatch door of the zombie safe room.

Suddenly a pair of arms comes out from behind the shelves of emergency supplies and wraps around Zed's waist.

"Hi!" (Y/n) Smiles into Zed's up, looking up at him.

Zed flinches at first, but then smiles. "Oh, hey."

She lets go of him and sits down on the stall.

"Soo? What's up?"

She giggles and takes her hair from her shoulder. Playing with the ends of it, she twists it around her finger. She pops her mouth and reaches into her bag, which Zed hadn't noticed was there.

She takes something out and hides it behind her back, "come here."

"...I'm.. nervous." He jokes, in a nervous laugh.

"Don't be nervous. Come on."

"Why?"

She playfully rolls her eyes, "don't worry so much. Come on." She stitches her tone into a baby voice, one that a person uses with their dog. "Come on, Zed. Be a good boy. Come here~"

Zed blushes, the embarrassment and arousal of the praise getting to him again. He places his bag on the floor and slowly walks towards to shorter girl. "Y-yes?"

"Kneel down."

He places his knees on the ground and looks up at her in confusion. "What are you-" without realizing it, she finishes placing something around his neck and adjusts it. "Wha-IS THIS A COLLAR?!?!" He asks, turning a bright red.

(Y/n) Smiles innocently and then places a white bunny ear headband on her head.

"What-what is happening?!" Zed asks, his voice cracking.

"Look I know it's weird and I shouldn't be thinking like this, but-" she blushes and slowly knees down next the Zed. She bites her lip and whispers, "so you wanna do a roleplay with me?"

"....yes...... please..." Zed whispers back, his blush reaching his ears.

She smiles and blushes as well, "o-okay! Well, um it's simple. You're my good boy, "she gently tugs on the collar, "and I'm your good bunny girl." She points to her bunny ears. "Got it?"

He gulps and nods to the floor, "hehe, no one told me high school would be like this." He jokes.

She giggles, "ok, well. Anything you want to say? Any rules?"

"Um, no. I don't think? Just say red if, you know, wanna stop."

She nods, "same to you."

He nods.

They both sit in silence, Zed staring down at the floor and (Y/n) staring at him. The hallways outside the door loud with students walking through it.

"Did you want me to start or-" she asks quietly.

"Oh, right. Sorry." Zed takes a deep breath and places his hands on her back, pushing her gently towards him. Kissing her softly.

She places her hands on the sides of his face, slowly rubbing his cheek with her thumb. The kiss quickly becoming a passionate make out.

Zed rubs her back up and down and places the palm of his other hand on the back of her head, his long fingers accidentally knocking the headband off.

(Y/n) Pulls the kiss apart and giggles against his lips. "Careful there, sir~" She teases, placing the headband back in her head.

"Sir? I thought I was you're good boy?" Zed teases back, kissing a trail down her jaw.

"Ptff, you haven't done anything good yet." She pants, placing her hand on his head.

"Oh, yeah? What do I need to do then bunny? How can I be a good boy?" He asks, moving to her neck.

(Y/n) blushes at the sudden confidence, but quickly calms herself, and pulls his hair, slightly pushing his head back and away from her neck.

"Stand up." She demands.

He obeys, standing back on his feet. "And?" He asks, (Y/n) still kneeling down.

She hums, pretending to think. Quietly she takes off her shirt. Zed covers his eyes. "...what are you doing?"

"Oh, right. Sorry." He chuckles, taking his hands off his eyes. "Nice rack." He smirks.

"So I've heard." She giggles. Crawling over to his legs she takes off his belt.

"Um-"

"It's ok." She gently unzips his fly and unbuttons his pants. "I know what I'm doing. Just relax." She takes off his pants and his boxers. His member sprong out and hit her on her face. "Wow.....big." she mumbles out.

"Uh, thanks?" He gasps out. "Is-is it gonna fit in your-"

She cuts him off by placing kisses along the sides of his shaft. Once she texted the base she started licking around it.

Zed covers his mouth and watches with widen eyes and a flushes face.

She smirks up at him and takes it into her mouth. "Hmm, it's tastes pretty sweet." She mumbles out.

He shuts his eyes and roughly grabs a patch of her hair for support. She giggles at his flustered-ness and bops her head.

"Wait. Wait. Wait."

She halts for a moment, "already?"

"No-I-I need to sneeze."

"....are you serious-"

Zed covers his mouth with his arm and sneezes three times. "sorry. Did I ruin the moment?"

"...yeah." she playfully rolls her eyes. "It's ok, I can keep going-"

"No, it's fine." He pushes her head back and gets back on the ground. He grabs her wrists and pins her to the floor. "I wanna use my bunny girl now." He states in a low growl.

(Y/n) gulps, pulling against his strength, but fails. "I-I have a con-"

"It probably wouldn't fit anyways."

"Cocky, much?"

He laughs, and rolls his eyes. He slowly puts a hand up her skirt, moving her panties to the side, fingers dipping through her folds.

(Y/n) let out a moan as he rubs through her slick. “All this and I've barely touched you, bunny?” He teases, now lining up his cock and he slowly sinks into her soaking heat.

“Fuckkk.” Zed groans out, one hand gripping her hip and moves his other to hold her hand tightly for support. He begins to thrust in and out of her at an agonizing pace. She closes her eyes tight and uses her other hand to wrap around his neck.

“Fuck, Zed, fuck me.” she moan, hips slapping into his own with each harsh thrust

"Am I your good boy, bunny?” He asks, still relentlessly pounding into you.

"So good, you fuck me so good, Zed.” she praise him, rubbing her hand up and down his neck as her climax straying to build up.

"Better than any human?"

"Way better. And bigger." She giggles, her moans interrupting. "Just-pull out, ok?"

"Yeah, got it."

"Am I a good bunny?"

"Best bunny. Best fucking bunny."

He pulls his hand from hers, dipping it down to circle her clit. Her orgasm washing over as he continues to pound.

"Lord, now I need to sneeze." She pants out.

He laughs as his hips stutter and he’s pulling out, pumping his cock a few times before his white ropes shoot across her legs.

Zed exhales and lays down on top of her, slightly squishing her, but she doesn't say anything. She wraps her arms around him and they both lay in the silence.

"....now what?" He asks.

"...um, we go to class, I guess." She shrugs.

"......after that?!?" He asks, raising his head to look at you in bewilderment.

[adhdzagreus]

curtain call

The Mechanisms are uncharacteristically quiet as they walk off the stage. Even Jonny doesn’t know what to say as the remaining eight space pirates file into the dressing room of the venue they booked for their last ever show on Earth. 

The first one to break the silence is the Toy Soldier who sniffles, gasps tremulously, and then wails, “Is all that really going to happen? With the—the black holes and the bar fights and the octokittens and everything?” 

Jonny stifles a groan. This is exactly why he’d locked it out in the first place. What’s going to happen is what’s going to happen, and they all might as well accept it. 

To make matters worse, the Toy Soldier’s sniffling has set off some of the more sensitive Mechanisms. Ivy pats it on the shoulder with a forlorn look, eyes glassy with unshed tears, and Marius’ fragile expression suggests that if Ivy starts crying, he’ll follow suit. 

Tim has his arm around Ashes’ waist, as if worried they might disappear, and though his metal eyes betray no sadness, the firm set of his mouth worries Jonny more than anything else. 

“The odds of us changing the future now that it’s been written are over three hundred million to one,” Ivy says sadly. “It’s statistically impossible that we will live forever.” 

“B-b-but we have so many more songs left to sing!” the Toy Soldier weeps. “Tales to tell! Wars to wage!” 

“And we will,” Jonny says shortly. “None of us are instantly about to keel over, are we?” 

“N-no?” the Toy Soldier says. 

“Everyone seems in decent health to me,” Marius says quietly. He holds Ivy’s hand in both of his. 

“So don’t worry about it,” Jonny says. 

“That’s easy for you to say,” Marius says. “You’re not dying for another millennia. I could get eaten by octokittens tomorrow.” 

Jonny’s stomach twists, and he wrenches his mouth open to retort, but someone interrupts him. 

“No,” Raphaella says sharply. “You will not. We know for a fact that we each die alone. I’m not letting you out of my sight, and you’re certainly not going to check on the octokittens any time soon. I’m planning to have Ivy feed them when we arrive back at the ship.” 

“It’s not the same now that I know they eat Marius,” Ivy sniffles. 

Marius’s expression shatters. “Don’t hold it against them, Ivy! They’re just hungry! They can’t help it! Don’t be sad!” he pleads. 

Jonny feels sick as Ivy starts to cry harder, expounding on the hunting habits of felines, which only makes Marius more upset. He throws himself into a chair and starts taking his makeup off with a wet wipe, trying and failing to ignore them as Raphaella attempts to comfort them both. 

“You’re being awfully callous about all this,” Tim says, still with one arm around a stony-faced Ashes. Brian and the Toy Soldier have joined the fray, and Brian’s platitudes about everything coming to an end in time are almost as unhelpful as the Toy Soldier’s weeping and wailing. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jonny snaps.

“Well, you could at least pretend to be sad like the rest of us,” Tim says. “I know you’re all excited to die, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us are.” 

“God damn it, Tim,” Jonny snaps, throwing the wet wipe on the floor. “You think I’m not sad?” 

“You’re not acting like it,” Tim replies. “Marius had a point. You’ve got a run-up and a death you’re looking forward to. Ashes here could go at any time.”

“Hey, babe, don’t bring me into this,” Ashes mumbles. 

“Am I wrong?” Tim says. 

“Yeah, you fucking are wrong!” Jonny shouts. “You think I want to die alone in some backwater asteroid bar centuries after the rest of you are gone? Yeah, I’m excited to die, but that doesn’t mean I want to watch the rest of you disappear first!” 

The rest of the dressing room falls quiet, and Jonny realizes belatedly that he was shouting. Worse, he feels tears in his eyes, and he scrubs at them angrily, smearing the remains of his face paint. 

“Oh,” Gunpowder Tim says. “I guess I didn’t think about that.” 

“You choose how you go out,” Jonny says. “I have to wait until it finally decides to fucking stick. You know how many times I’ve been stabbed in the heart? I could go start a barfight on an asteroid tomorrow, but I guarantee it won’t stick.”

“All the same,” Tim says quietly. “I’d prefer you didn’t risk it.” 

“And I’d prefer you wore your fucking seatbelt, but we don’t get to choose, now do we?” Jonny says. 

Tim flinches, and Ashes frowns at Jonny who takes a deep, shuddering breath. 

“I—I mean. I don’t want you to die either,” he says. “But we have to die s-sooner or later. And I don’t want to waste whatever time we have left crying about it.” 

Despite this, tears are dripping from his eyes as he speaks, flowing faster than he can scrub them away. No one says another for a long moment, but he feels the eyes of several of his crewmates on him. 

“C’mere, you mean ol’ bastard,” Ashes says. They spread the arm not curled around Tim’s waist and gesture for him to approach. 

“What?” Jonny says, standing up and shuffling closer. 

Ashes crushes him to their chest in a one-armed hug, and Jonny breaks and grabs both Ashes and Tim as best he can. Before he can recover, he feels someone else wrap their arms around him from behind, and before he can protest, he’s at the center of a tangled mass of weeping space pirates—colloquially known as a group hug. 

It’s awkward with so much metal and wood and weapons, but Jonny can’t even pretend to be annoyed by it. He’s too focused on not breaking down into sobs. He’ll be damned if he lets his crew see him cry anymore than they already have. 

“I love you all very much,” the Toy Soldier says happily. “Best space pirate crew ever.” 

Jonny rolls his eyes and sobs silently. Hopefully, buried as he is in a mass of bodies, no one will notice. 

“Well, now that that’s been dealt with,” DrumBot Brian says, “I would like to return to the Aurora. I am concerned our parking pass has expired.” 

Jonny sighs. “Fine, but you stay away from the damn airlock.”

“Your concern is touching and noted,” says the DrumBot. 

The Mechanisms disperse and hurriedly gather up their things. Jonny lovingly coils up his microphone and tucks it safely away, and the band of space pirates begin to make their way back to the Aurora and off to destinations unknown. 

[grimoireofhayley]

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

Word Count: 1.6k

WARNINGS: Graphic content, Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ Content, Stalking, Possessiveness, Dirty talk, Religion talk, Suppressed Mental Health problems (I.e., reader has some issues that she isn't aware of)

Taglist: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @fanfic-enjoyer123 @darkenwolfie @juda-the-simp  @colsons-baker @junnniiieee07  @ok-boke @ren-ni @katie-tibo @bruce-yamada @kenma-izhu @cookielovesbook-akie @elevenpurple @hyunlix-world @mavix @halleest

A/n: Oh-my-god, I am so sorry for the major delay! Trust me, I was in the middle of writing the chapter the same day I said I would post it, but being a mom is super-duper busy and they will always come first and I completely forgot to post the chapter, but here it is FINALLY.. My twins are now 3 so they’re acting like teenagers, but toddler form; super bossy, extremely demanding, always and I MEAN always keeping me on my feet. Plus, I had to re-write it as I didn’t like how the first attempt at chapter 14 sounded 😮‍💨 Anyways, I barely have time to write, but when I can, I hope you all enjoy it. I hope this chapter is up to your liking! More chapters are still on the way, A LOT MORE. Keep in mind, the Billy scene in previous chapters and this scene is my first time writing smut/smut related things… 😓😓😓 Lastly, Thank You ALL so much for getting me to 405 followers! I’m in disbelief 🫢💜

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Chapter 14

Gulping, you shakily took the phone off the counter, hanging it up and unplugged it from the wall, making sure no calls would come through anymore that night for her sake.

Looking over, you saw Sidney gripping at her brown hair, pulling it in every direction, her jaw clenched, yet, her teeth chattering; she wanted to scream, shout and cry, but couldn’t. Her pale features now a rouge from both exhaustion and terror. Her sanity seemed to slip away bit-by-bit each time Ghostface would call; preying on her, taunting her, humiliating her.

“What, what!?” Dewey came running from his room, waving a gun around in his white t-shirt and blue and white striped boxers.

Tatum tsk-ed at her brother’s tardiness, pushing passed him to follow Sidney.

You rubbed the nape of your neck, placing your other hand on Dewey’s shoulder, “Next time.. maybe be a little quicker.” You laughed, half-heartedly, trying to make light of the situation, seeing how confused Dewey seemed to be.

__

“(Y/n) (L/n) and Sidney Prescott who were both…”

Before the news reporter finished his sentence, Dewey shut the tv off, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table, sitting down.

“Billy was released.”

Your ears perked at the sound, relief washing over.

Sidney’s eyes lit up, but she still clearly had her doubts.

“His cellular bill was clean. He didn’t make those calls..” Dewey stated, grabbing a carton of milk before pouring some of it into his coffee. “We’re checkin’ every cellular account in the county.” Dewey finished, taking a long gulp of his un-sweetened drink before continuing. “(Y/n), Sidney..” He eyed both of you, “Any calls made to you two or Casey Becker are being cross-referenced, it’s going to take some time, but we’ll find him.”

Tatum nudged you and smiled at Sidney.

__

Dewey pulled into the school lot with ease, parallel parking at the curb.

He got out and opened the door for you and Sidney.

You smiled at him, thanking him quietly, and he tilted his hat at you as Sidney got out next.

However, your smile quickly faded, seeing a reporter running towards your side; most likely to ambush both you and Sidney about what happened.

“(Y/n) how does it feel to know the murderer is lusting after you and nearly butchering your friends? Do you know who the killer is, are you a part of his twisted game?” A red head asked, shoving a mic at you, accusing you of being his partner-in-crime.

You scoffed, irritated, but somehow calm, honoured that she knows the killer wants you.

“What about you, Sidney? How does it feel to be almost brutally killed?”

Sidney bit her lip, already wanting to cry.

Dewey stepped in front, shoving the reporter away.

“Hey, leave them alone!” He shouted, towering over the petite woman.

She stumbled back, but wasn’t giving up.

“People want to know. They have a right to know!”

You, Tatum and Sidney bolted, getting away from all the interrogations this woman was sure to have up her sleeves.

__

You were pressed against a locker; your mid back arched causing your torso to move forward; and your arms folded, pushing your breasts together, making them pop out.

“This is a mistake, I shouldn’t be here…” Sidney huffed, grabbing her books and slamming her locker door shut.

You sighed, plopping a sucker in your mouth; twirling the red treat around your tongue, pursing your lips tightly around it and without meaning to, your eyes landed on Stu who was already watching you.

You blushed and he smirked, liking how you looked with your mouth full.

“I want you to meet me right here after class, okay, Sid?” Tatum spoke and Sidney nodded.

“Hey, Stu, I haven’t seen Billy around… is he really pissed?”

Stu tore his gaze from you, looking at Sidney.

“Oh, you mean after you branded him the Candyman?”

You shoved Stu slightly, giving him a glare.

He winced, “No, his heart’s broken—“

Suddenly a scream was heard and the four of you looked into the direction it came from, spotting a student running down the hall dressed as Ghostface.

You blushed again, seeing the full cloaked figure and that ghostly-white mask again.

‘Fuck, that’s hot.’ You smirked slightly, turning your head to the side, trying to subtly check out the student who’s dressed up like the murderer, you let out a quiet “Mmph” squeezing your thighs together.

Unbeknownst to you, Stu heard your moan, and knew exactly what you were doing with your thighs. Luckily, the others did not, but he is so glad that he did. He can smell the hormones leaking off of you; they were practically oozing with want for the cloaked-killer.

He bit his lip, trying to contain his excitement.

“Why are they doing this?” Sidney spoke, watching the student run away.

Stu, glanced at you, “Are you kidding me? Look at this place, it’s like Christmas!” He laughed, a devious smirk prying at his lips as the comment was directed at you. You were his Christmas, knowing the woman he wants is full blown horny for him, for Ghostface.

Tatum huffed, hitting him with the lollipop you had given her prior, “Stupidity leak.”

“Hey!” Stu shrieked, immediately looking at his girlfriend, while the school bell blared, signalling the start of class and students were quick to get going.

Sidney ran down the hall, upset at Stu’s comment and Tatum ran after her. You sighed, looking down, picking up your bag in the process. You went to go wave ‘bye’ to Stu, but he vanished.

“Huh?” You mumbled out loud, seeing how he was gone and so was every other student that was there nearly two minutes ago. “That’s my cue…”

__

Tapping your fingers against your hip, you hummed to the tune of ‘Your Dead’ by Norma Tanega.

You stopped in front of the janitors closest to reach for your Walkman that was in your bag, wanting to blare the song in your ears, hoping that actually listening to the catchy tune would make it stop repeating itself inside your head.

Though, the universe had other plans…

You felt the door swing open, hitting you, knocking you out of the way, making you drop your only source of music.

Soon after, a hand covered your mouth and an arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the closet.

A scream hitched in your throat as the unknown figure flicked the light on, revealing who the culprit was…Stu.

“Stu, what the actual fuck was that for!?” You narrowed your eyes, clenching your fist, ready to punch him out of fear.

He laughed, but soon afterwards told you to be quiet, locking the door behind him as he stepped forward.

“Shh, I don’t want anyone to hear us.” He whisper-yelled, getting closer to you, placing both hands on either side of your arms.

He was a good two-to-three feet taller than you.

“I saw you, you know…” He bit his lip again, rolling the flesh with his teeth, gripping your arms tighter.

You looked up at him, confused, not sure what he meant, however, a part of you knew where this might be going.

“The way your face went red, how you rubbed your thighs together..” He taunted, poking your nose, “Let’s not forget that sweet-little moan you let out when you saw that student…” He leaned into the crease of your collarbone, nipping at the skin, the coolness of his lips penetrating your warmth.

Your face was hot with yearn, but also embarrassment. “The student who was dressed as the Woodsboro slasher…” He grinned, feeling you shiver at his touch.

“W-what—“ You began, trying to act like you didn’t know what he was talking about; ashamed that you were caught. You were quickly silenced by Stu pressing his lips against yours, his bulge pushing up against your side.

His fingers danced across your arms to the string of your grey tank top, ripping it from your body with force as the sound of the thin material shredding lingered in your ears. Fortunately for Stu, you didn’t have a bra on…

Your breasts jiggled from the impact, bouncing in place which caused a small guttural growl to emit from Stu’s throat.

Stu immediately grabbed your boob in his right hand, rubbing his thumb across the perky bud, while his other hand gripped at your bare side, his fingers digging into your ribs.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, staring at the finger prints you already had bruised into your skin. They almost lined up with his own marks, but his were slightly bigger. Stu only quirked a brow, continuing to fondle your breast, not wanting to ruin the moment by asking.

Stu trembled at the thought of someone else having you, but he was sure to find out who and kill him.

“M-mm..” You let out a breathy moan, making Stu lose track of his thoughts,“But T-Tatum—“ you stuttered, holding back another sound as he slid his hand into your shorts, rubbing your clit through the silk of your panties.

He hooked his finger under the band, pulling you even closer, his forehead pressing up against your own.

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