#god i love him so much. hes so special to me

[kingkat12]

prom night (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, mature/dark themes, Roman adores reader so much aghhhh<33, fluff, Roman is bad with words lol, blood, mentions of death, attempted kidnapping, amnesia, Dr. Pryce is scary omg, dead dove do not eat tbh, silly bf Roman because why tf not

summary: going to prom with Roman Godfrey had been a dream of yours for longer than you could remember-- but suddenly, that was the only thing you could remember. seriously. what the fuck happened last weekend, and why is Roman keeping you in the dark about it?

word count: 16,708 (oh my fucking god)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12

a/n: celebrating 900 followers (??? WHAT) with the biggest chapter yet!!! I've spent a month preparing it, and this has been the chapter I've been building up to ever since I started this series... I suggest you read it in one sitting because I intended it to be read that way, (although I know that is a lot to ask!!! not necessary boo), and I'm sorry about everything in advance aghhh😭 I would also like to give special thanks to @mentallyscreamingsincebirth for being such a great support and for guiding my brain through this enormous chapter, THANK YOU LYNDI<3 much much love, ENJOY, and read at ur own risk!!!<333 MWAH

Have you ever thought about death? Of course you have, everyone has-- but have you ever felt it?

Have you felt it lingering in your forearms, like you're pressing them up against a flaming stove? Have you felt it pressing at the sides of your head, waiting for it to cave in on itself? I always thought it would feel like going to sleep; that no matter how you pass, you reach a point where your mind flips over into delirium, and then you feel drowsy until it's over. Yet somehow, I was suddenly convinced it was nothing like that. I was sure that it felt like nothing but pure panic, accompanied by a crippling fear unlike any other. Because it hurt, everything hurt, and I was sure I'd be stuck in an endless loop of hell where I would forever be semi-conscious and in excruciating pain. 

And why?

Because right now, I was sure I was dead. 

That I was done. Deceased. Expired. I was so, so sure, and I had no idea why everything was black, why I couldn't move, or why I felt my lungs freeze over with the inability to breathe. 

It lasted for too long. Way too long. An eternity. 

Up until it felt like a scream was being dragged out of me by force, like someone had grabbed hold of my tongue and tugged me forward-- a bright light shone through my lids before they sprung open in pure panic, and I arched off the bed with a shriek. It felt like I was taking my first breaths again, and I clawed at my chest as my nails dug into the fabric of my shirt, suffocating, suffocating, dying, tearing, tearing, panic, panic, why, where, how?--

"Pryce, do something!" 

"Mr. Godfrey, sit down!--"

"Do something!" 

I was still screaming when my hands were pried off my skin with an annoyed groan, still heaving for air as a man in a white coat now hovered over me. He forced my left eye to open wider with his cold, bony fingers, shining the light directly at my pupil. He was searching for any lack of reaction as I emptied my lungs, crying out in fear; it wasn't until I felt the scent of a familiar cologne fill my body that I started to fight my screams of panic. 

I was sure it was Roman who was now pinning my hands down to the bed-- his indexes were pressing against my wrists, checking my pulse, the classic Godfrey move. He usually only did that when he was trying to make a point about him making my heart race, and that's how I was certain it was him.

Once the doctor finished, my cries had largely quieted down. All that was left was a series of whimpers and shaky breaths. "What's happening?" I struggled to ask, my voice cracking. I saw the doctor scowl at Roman, clearly frustrated by something. My lower lip quivered; why was I here? What was happening? 

Why couldn't I remember anything?

When the doctor spoke, he was still not looking at me; "You're at the Godfrey Institute, getting what is considerably the best care in the world," He moved away, tutting as he sat down on the chair opposite the bed I was lying on. Coming to my senses, my eyes traced the room. The walls were painted an uncomfortably bright hue of white, and I was afraid I'd go blind looking at them for too long. However, the doctor's voice caught my attention once more; "You don't seem to be concussed, but I'll check your reflexes. Have you exhausted your lungs, or must I put you under as well? If you keep screaming and resisting, you will only make things harder for yourself."

"She'll be fine!" Roman barked, letting go of my hands. With swift, nervous steps, he now stood by my side as he stroked through my hair. I could sense his anxiety through the slight tremble in his fingers, and he squeezed my shoulder with his free hand as he spoke to the doctor with a lowered voice, as though I wouldn't hear him if he softened his tone; "She will be, right? Pryce?"

Doctor Pryce rolled his eyes as he looked over at the metal tray beside him, scanning the neat display of medical instruments. "Did you bring this girl to me to question my care, or because you trust that I'm the best?"

"I'm!--"

"I was the one that delivered you into the world, Roman, don't forget that. Your mother trusted me with your life, so you have all the reason to exert some patience and trust me with this very simple task," Pryce picked out his preferred instrument and leaned forward, pressing on a button that made the back of my bed raise. 

I yelped, still trying to catch my breath; "What's happening?" I breathed, hoping to contain the wave of tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. It felt like I had died and come back to earth. "Please, why-- why am I here?"

With one final anxious glance at Pryce, Roman finally looked down at me. It was the first time I had been properly acknowledged. "Hey, you," he said, gently running his fingers through my hair. "We were in a car crash, and you passed out. This is Doctor Pryce, and he's just making sure you didn't faint because of anything serious. You could've also lost consciousness because of shock, fear... Many factors. This is just a precaution."

"Car crash?" I echoed. "What-- Why can't I remember?-- Ow!" 

A panicked cry escaped me, and I looked down to see Pryce with what looked like a hammer, striking the supple area beneath my knee socket. My leg jumped up automatically, and the doctor let out a satisfied hum before he moved on to my other leg. "Miss, do you get enough sleep?" he asked. "On the regular, that is?"

I had never been this disoriented in my life. "I don't-- I don't know?"

With an exasperated sigh, Pryce muttered a simple alright. He sat back down in his chair, now gazing at me with a blank, neutral look. Something told me he had practiced that exact expression for his patients. "You seem to have experienced what is called a situational syncope. You must've gone into a deep state of shock, which caused your blood pressure to drop, ultimately knocking you out. Based on the tests we got done on you when you were unconscious, there seems to be nothing wrong with you," 

I forced down a sob as I squeezed my eyes shut. My body was still frozen with panic. Despite my efforts, I couldn't conjure the memory of the supposed car crash; what was happening to me? "There has to be something wrong!" I cried. "I can't-- I can't remember anything!"

Sighing, Pryce got up, but not without glaring at Roman once more. "You might have a minor case of amnesia. It's most likely short-term and will resolve in twenty-four hours, or it might not," He moved to a nearby table, writing down something on a computer. "It might be time to lay off the nocturnal activities, Roman. It's important that she sleeps."

My face had never been redder. Never. To be told to lay off sex in front of your boyfriend's family doctor? Awful. Not something I recommend anyone else go through. 

However, in true Godfrey fashion, Roman didn't seem to care about that part. "Thank fuck," he said, letting out a relieved breath as he bent down to kiss my forehead. I could sense the ease settling in his body, and it made me wonder when it could transmit to mine as well. "So she's completely fine?"

"Yes," Pryce grumbled, absentmindedly tapping away on his keyboard.

"No internal bleeding, no injuries?--"

"She's fine,"

Roman nodded, and I thought that would be the end of it until he spoke again; "Will she remember... everything?"

My blood ran cold. Something about the way he said those words made me feel like it was ominous. I blinked, staring up at Roman as my heart beat hard in my chest. 

Pryce's clacking stilled. He turned, moving sharply, as his eyes narrowed; "For your sake, I hope not,"

It only took me a second to reach for Roman's hand, grabbing it as fear ran through my veins. "Rome," I echoed, begging him to look at me. I needed to know. It didn't feel like a simple car crash; why was I still shaking? Was this normal? I was terrified that I wouldn't remember anything. "Please, you have to-- you have to tell me what!--"

"Shh, it's okay," Roman cooed, wiping that terrified look off his face in an instant. "Everything is fine, see? The nice doctor says you just need to sleep, so what do you say I drop you off at your place and make sure you sleep well tonight?" 

I could hear Pryce snicker as he got up, gathering what he needed from the room. "The nice doctor," he echoed, shaking his head. Everything he did felt oddly sterile. Everything from the smile to the polite tilt of his head. "Sleep would be the best remedy, yes. And maybe some shopping."

Roman scrunched his nose-- "Shopping?"

Pryce nodded, pointing to my shirt which I had partially clawed up. "Shopping,"

I couldn't imagine I would ever get any redder than this. Why couldn't amnesia take this memory too? I wanted to disappear-- however, when I thought about the black void I had been thrust into before I awoke, I changed my mind. I was happier than ever to be alive. When Pryce left the room, I let out a shaky breath as I locked eyes with Roman; "Rome, please tell me how the fuck we ended up in a!--"

My words were stolen as two large hands grabbed my face, and my favorite pair of lips came crashing down onto mine. Roman was now partially on my bed, rushing his kisses as he pulled me close in sheer desperation. "You had me so scared," he breathed. "So, so--"

Grabbing onto Roman's hair for support, I could only yelp as he practically toppled me, kissing me with urgency. "You can't do that," he begged. "You can't, you-- you can't--" 

I was beyond overwhelmed. Exhausted. Still, I could sense that Roman had almost been as scared as me. "Please, Rome!--"

"What would I have done if you got hurt?" He grabbed my face harder, forcing me to look into his teary eyes when he relented his attack on my lips. "It would've killed me. It would've killed me." The desperation, the panic, was evident in his big, green eyes as they searched mine. 

When would this be over? "I don't even know what happened!" I cried. "I don't remember, and it scares me! What if I won't-- won't remember it?" 

I hoped he would tell me. I hoped Roman would sit me down and tell me in excruciating detail. However, his brows came together and drew upwards in a look of pure pity; "It doesn't matter. Look at it like it's mercy,"

"Mercy?" 

"I'm glad you don't remember," Roman breathed, pressing a passionate kiss to my lips before he leaned his forehead against mine. "I don't want you to remember it... I'm kinda glad you don't. You don't need to remember the bad stuff, right? I only want you to be happy. Happy, safe, and with me. Forever."

Forever. 

I let out a shaky breath which fell against Roman's lips, defeated. It still lingered in my body-- death. Like something really, really bad had happened. 

... Had it?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The air smelled like freshly mown grass although it was growing freely all around us, untamed. The long branches of the willow tree kneeling above us swayed with the breeze, and the leaves rustled with a gentle buzz; it was beautiful to look up at, even in the dark of the night. 

Roman was lying next to me, eyes shut in peace that had only recently settled in his body. His chest rose and fell in slow, calm motions as his brown hair wove into the long strands of the grass. I had an inkling that he was getting comfortable with it now-- with the idea of forever. That I was his for as long as he'd have me. That he had someone to go through life with, after all this time finding solace in fleeting moments of intimacy with the girls that were lucky to be near him at the right moment. 

Roman was unbelievably beautiful. Unreal. 

I still had no idea what happened that day I woke up at the Godfrey Institute a week ago, convinced I had died. It was hard not to think about it, but sleep had done me good-- Doctor Pryce had been right. My memory of the incident hadn't returned, and I had a feeling it never would. Every so often, I would get specs of it when I heard a particularly loud car, or whenever the smell of diesel got very strong from Roman's red jag, but that was the end of it.

However, the whole car crash incident had set Roman off into a weird state of possessiveness. Not one night had passed without him sneaking in through my bedroom window, lying next to me to make sure I wasn't on my phone until three a.m., and that I was getting enough sleep. I had watched Roman doze off into slumber countless times, both next to me and on top of me, and I had loved to stroke his hair and watch him sleep every time. It was the only time I felt he ever got to rest properly. Never ever during the day. Which is why, now that Roman was doing the same for me, I started to feel more at peace with what had happened. With the crash. With what I didn't know. As long as I had Roman, I would be fine, right? I was sure of it now.

Not only had the car crash left Roman and I in a weird state, but my parents as well. They were wary of me needing to get enough sleep and rest, so they had given me a rather strict curfew up until prom night. This curfew also involved not having Roman over as much, meaning we had to get creative-- so here we were, lying next to each other in the grass at his secret hiding place around midnight, where we had previously exchanged our blood. 

"Rome," I whispered, watching the swaying willow branch above me. "You put on an alarm, right? I can't be out for too long, I'm scared my parents will find the pillow concoction we put on my bed and know I'm not home..."

He hummed, his eyes remaining closed-- "We have about thirty minutes until I have to take you back. I'm keeping track of it,"

"You don't seem to be keeping track of anything right now,"

"Nonsense,"

"... You look like you're sleeping,"

"But I'm not, am I?" Roman's eyes met mine, his lashes hanging heavy over the green color of his irises. With a tug at the corners of his lips, he sung a short, mocking line; "I don't want to close my eyes!--"

Oh no. "Rome, don't!--"

"-- I don't want to fall asleep, 'cause I miss you, baby!" His laugh was as melodious as his half-assed attempt at serenading me. 

I snorted, no longer sleepy. This was beyond cringe. "You're an idiot,"

"And yet you're crazy about me," Roman purred, moving closer to me on the grass. The tips of his fingers, which had barely grazed mine a minute ago, were now running along the back of my hand in soft motions. "That says more about you than it says about me."

I turned my hand as I smiled to myself, feeling my chest burn with the warmth I got from being near him. If only he knew I was more than crazy about him. If only he knew. "Yeah, you're right," I mumbled, intertwining our fingers with a content sigh. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

I didn't deem my words to be as heavy as Roman suddenly made them seem-- it was as though the leaves stopped rustling. As though the air no longer smelled like grass, and the only thing I could smell was suddenly only Roman's heavy, expensive perfume. Something stilled. Was it the waves of the water nearby? His eyes softened with his next exhale, pupils rounding out. It was almost as though I could see the pounding of his heart as his chest fell. "I don't know how I ever lived without you in the first place," he confessed. "It kills me that you were so close all this time, and... I didn't notice."

Thinking back at the time when Roman would barely look my way was excruciating, even now. "It doesn't matter--"

"We had chemistry together," he breathed. "You were so close." Roman no longer looked at me, and instead turned his gaze to the hanging branches of the willow tree we were lying beneath. "I used to think I was the center of the universe, y'know? That the world was mine, along with everyone living in it. I thought I was everything I ever needed, that no one else truly mattered except for me, but then..." He cleared his throat, an empty look in his eyes. "This is getting cheesy, isn't it?"

Silly, silly boy. "You were literally singing at me a minute ago, I think I can take you being sweet,"

The small upward tug of Roman's lips lifted an ache in my heart. "The past doesn't matter. But the future does, as long as you're in it with me,"

I love you, I love you, I love you. It was echoing in my head. "Grow old with me, Roman?" I hoped it would come off as a joke. I hoped he'd sense the smile in my words, the lightness in which I proposed the hypothetical. 

But he was so serious. So, so serious, as he turned to meet my eyes. And just for a second, I was scared he'd open his mouth and tell me he couldn't get old-- I had read too much of that upir book. "I don't want to get old," he mumbled. "Old people don't have a lot of sex."

It was impossible not to laugh. "They probably do,"

"... Gross,"

Rolling my eyes, I gave his hand a squeeze. "I'd have sex with you. You'd still be the Roman I lo--" 

Fuck.

Oh, fuck. 

I choked my words with a cough; "This damn grass," I cursed. "I might be allergic..." Gathering courage, I glanced over at Roman as I held my breath. 

He seemed to be holding his too. 

It took longer than expected for any of us to say anything. With small movements, Roman slid his hand up to my wrist, pressing his index against my pulse. 

I cleared my throat, breaking out into a nervous laugh. "Okay, let me clear that up. The coughing made it sound like I was saying something that I wasn't saying."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Why was my throat so dry? "I was gonna say that you'd still be the same Roman I long for."

"Oh..." He seemed both relieved and disappointed. I couldn't read him. It was too dark. "Okay. I'll hold you to it when we're eighty, then."

My heart was still racing. Had I gotten away with that or was he letting me? "So you're basically saying you won't be jumping me when we're old? I'm disappointed. And on top of that, I think you'd still be yourself at eighty, no? Or will you no longer be so nympho when you reach a certain age?"

"... You have a point," Roman's classic smirk was back-- I had never been happier to see it. "I'll always want you, I'm afraid."

"No matter what?"

"No matter what,"

"Are you a hundred percent sure about that, Rome?"

"I'll do you one better. Hundred and one,"

It was impossible not to smile. I loved him so much it hurt; I needed to mend it. "... Even if I turn into a worm?"

The groan he let out blended in with the ringing of the alarm he had put on.

As Roman pulled me up from the grass, I realized how much I loved everything about this night. I loved that he wanted to see me so bad that he was sneaking me out of my room. I loved the feeling of my hand in his, loved the sight of his smile, loved every inch of him. I only wished we could stay this happy for an eternity-- an eternity with him would be so unbelievably nice.

And if Roman loved me too, I'd let him love me forever. 

I'd love him till the day I died, tirelessly, endlessly.

... Even if he was a worm.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

There was a lingering warmth in my body, yet I waited for the other thing to leave. The feeling. The doom. The terror I didn't remember.

And while I waited, prom was a wonderful distraction.

My parents were out of town for the weekend, which allowed us to skip the awkward photos in the hallway that were usually customary for prom. I was sure Roman would've rather died than go through that.

Actually, I was half convinced someone else had told Roman to man up and ask me to go with him, because it seemed like I was getting too much of the good thing recently. It didn't make sense to me that he wanted anything to do with something like this. And for a second, I was convinced I had been right about it all along; when I walked down the stairs of my porch, it was impossible not to smile from ear to ear at the sight of Roman in his tux. He was sitting on the bonnet of his car, smoking a cigarette as always-- 

... Without so much as a reaction to me in my dress?

It felt like my whole body was on fire, like I was one of Roman's cigarettes. My smile faltered as I approached, not saying a word. I held my breath, watching the green of his eyes pierce mine. He didn't blink. He didn't budge. He simply held his cigarette to his lips, exhaling the smoke through his nose. 

Something felt off. I should've known Roman Godfrey wasn't the classic prom-man. "Do you not like it?" I breathed, feeling my confidence collapse as I toyed with the fabric of my dress.

Roman's eyes immediately darted down to my fingers-- "Don't tear at it. I know you like doing that," He held out his cigarette as he scanned me. It took a few seconds too long. With quick steps, he got off of his car; "Get in."

What? "No,"

Roman turned to me, cocking a brow. "No?"

"No," This was nerve-wracking. "You're being weird. Tell me what's wrong, or I turn around and go right back in again."

Visibly taken aback, Roman let his cigarette fall to the ground before he pressed his heel to it. In our moments of intense eye-contact and silence, I could see the way he had styled his hair differently tonight. It wasn't slicked back or messy, which were the two alternatives he always alternated between-- no, it looked like he had put effort into giving it a bit more volume, like something out of an old Hollywood film with James Dean as the lead. I couldn't understand him, where he stood in front of me in his ridiculously expensive tuxedo; it was obvious that he cared about this, so what was happening here?

"Nothing is wrong," Roman finally answered. "I just don't have the words."

"Words for what? What's going on?"

"Nothing is going on," he muttered under his breath. "It just makes me feel stupid."

"What does, Rome?" 

"I... have never been good at finding the right words. I always screw these things up," Frustrated, Roman put his hands in his pockets as he no longer met my gaze. "Saying you look good doesn't feel like enough... and telling you that you look beautiful feels weird, because I don't use that word for anything and that makes it sound rehearsed, so... I'm screwed. I'm looking at you, and I'm blanking. My heart is beating too fast."

Oh.

Oh.

"Take your time," was all I managed to say. I love you regardless was the thing I would have loved to add. 

Roman chewed on his lip, sitting down on the bonnet of his car again. He dared to meet my eyes as he reached for my hand; I took it, ready to take a step forward, before I caught Roman shaking his head. "You'd help me if you did a twirl," he said, a smirk nudging at the corners of his mouth. "Come on, now."

My heart lightened with the giggle that escaped me, and I could only blush as I did as told. 

"There you go," Roman cooed, warmth dotting his cheeks when I faced him again. "I like your dress. You kinda look like a cupcake."

"What? I do not! This is a-line!"

"A what line?"

"No, it's!-- Oh, forget it," Men.

Roman laughed, reaching for my waist to pull me in between his long legs. Softening his grin, he glanced down at my dress; had I not been watching him so intently, I wouldn't have caught the way his eyes subtly rounded out when they met mine. "I never realized how unfair it is,"

I frowned; "What's unfair?"

"You. Looking like this. Making every other girl on the planet look like an afterthought," Roman paused, his smirk softening with something genuine; "And it's not just tonight, y'know? It's everything about you. It's the way you laugh, it's the way you think, it's all that is you, along with how you look at me like I'm not completely messed up. You're just perfect." Roman stilled, his thumbs rubbing circles into the fabric around my waist as his smile turned self-conscious. "Sorry, that probably sounds cheesy as hell... What the fuck is up with me these days?"

If only he knew. If only he saw that I was fighting the welling of tears in my eyes. I love you, I love you, I love you. "As long as you don't start singing again, I'll be fine,"

Roman's smile was soft, and so was the kiss he gently pressed to my collarbone. Everything about the way he was holding me made me blush. "Come on," Roman cooed, a mischievous look shimmering in his eyes. "I can't wait to arrive with the prettiest girl in town. Everyone's gonna hate us even more than they already do, and I need the fuel of their spite and fear to survive."

I rolled my eyes, muffling my laugh against the following kiss. "Okay, Pennywise. Just keep the carnage to a minimum tonight, alright?"

"Deal,"

Just as Roman was about to lean in to kiss me, I remembered something important-- I grabbed his shoulders, watching his eyes widen as I pinned him to his place. "And we need to keep you far away from Brooke Bluebell tonight, by the way,"

"Uh, not that she was on the agenda, but... why?"

"Rumour says she's bought a needle. For revenge, and all,"

Roman let out a laugh of disbelief before it dawned on him that I wasn't joking. "Oh," he breathed, frowning. "Seems like there might be some carnage after all, then."

"No, that's not funny!--"

"Come on, it kinda is!"

"Roman-- ugh, fuck it, let's just go!" I placed a soft kiss to his lips; "Don't say I didn't warn you."

After more back and forth banter, it was finally time to get going. However, as Roman opened the car door for me and I sat down in the seat, I was hit with a major deja vu when he started checking out his hair in the rearview mirror. I knew that he did that every time before starting the car, this wasn't something out of the ordinary-- but for the first time since the incident, I remembered something clearly. 

I remembered just a fragment. A feeling. I had been upset the day of the crash, and so had Roman. Had we fought? 

It was at the tip of my tongue, there was a faint taste of exactly what had happened, and I was about to roll right into the memory when Roman put his hand on my thigh. I looked over at him, my breath high in my chest; he noticed it immediately. "You okay?" he tried.

It was lingering in my forearms, like I was pressing them up against a flaming stove. It pressed at the sides of my head, waiting for it to cave in on itself; death. It felt like a countdown.

Counting down.

Tick.

Tick tick.

I will know soon.

I put my burning hand over Roman's, forcing a smile;

"Never been better," ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Walking around at prom, hand in hand with Roman Godfrey as he talked to a couple of his friends, was only something I had imagined in my wildest dreams. I used to bury my face in my pillow and blush just at the thought of him even looking at me.

Back in those days, I had a specific image in my mind; since I hadn't ever thought I would go to prom with Roman, I imagined I'd be there with someone like Daniel. Someone I didn't like. I don't know, it wasn't too important. However, my date would be the type to not want to dance, and I would be left sitting with him by some table while everyone danced. And this would (of course) be the point where I'd imagine Roman walking up to me, charming, cocky, and high on his sky-high self-esteem, to reach for my hand. He'd ask if I'd like to dance, and I would glare at my date before giving Roman an affirmative yes.

Then we'd dance. Slow. Close. 

And in my dreams, Roman would look me in the eyes and tell me that he had loved me all along, that he would love me and only me for the rest of his life, that he had secretly been pining for me since the day he first saw me, that he was actually planning to propose right now actually, and then the whole prom would stop and gasp in jealousy as he got down on one knee, and then!--

I bit down on my lip, suppressing a laugh at the memory. It seemed so childish, now more than ever. I told myself to excuse my old, stupid daydreams; the mind wanders when you're crazy about someone.

Roman squeezed my hand; "What are you laughing about?"

Fuck. "Oh, just..." I glanced up at him, smiling uncontrollably. Alas, now that Roman was my boyfriend, I didn't need all of that ridiculous stuff. I only needed him by my side, and that'd be enough for me forever. "I just remembered something stupid."

Roman cocked a brow, the green of his eyes shining down on me despite the darkness of the room. "Keen on sharing?"

"Not so much,"

"Alright," he said, tsking. "Pervert."

"Hey!" My cheeks turned a peculiar shade of pink which I hoped wasn't visible beneath the dim lights. Why did he have to say stuff like that while standing next to his friends? Not that they were listening, anyway. Nonetheless, the cheeky look on Roman's face told me everything I needed to know about it. "It's nothing like that!" I tried. "It was actually kind of sweet..."

"Oh, yeah?" Nodding, Roman's hand went to the small of my back, excusing us before he started leading us away from his circle of friends. "Tell me, then."

"It's stupid!" I giggled, my blush deepening with the kiss he pressed to the top of my head as we walked. Giant man. 

Roman rolled his eyes; "Tell me before I spike the punch and get us kicked out," We had now reached the other side of the room, and he turned me around to press my back against the wall. Like this, he was towering over me as always. Just the sight of it made my heart beat harder. 

"It should be illegal," I muttered under my breath, reaching for his tie. Sweet-talking him would hopefully be distraction enough. "You in a suit--"

"Tux,"

"Tux," I didn't want to tell him about my childish dreams about prom. I was aware how stupid it sounded, anyway. I didn't need to give Roman more things to tease me about, did I? "You're very, very handsome."

"Aha," he hummed, unimpressed. "How long would my sentence to be, then?"

"If it was illegal?"

"If it was illegal,"

"Hmm... I was thinking six years and nine months."

Roman bit down on a grin. "Do I spot a subtle sixty-nine reference?"

Yes. "Pervert,"

We shared a laugh as my hands slid down his tie, but my brows drew together when I felt something hard between the top and second button of his shirt. My mind flared red lights-- "Is this what I think it is?" I asked, gazing up at Roman as my eyes rounded out. 

He didn't seem to understand my reaction. "I always wear it," he said, shrugging. "Didn't want to take it off."

"Ah," I suppose it was sweet. That's all it was. It most certainly didn't remind me of my least favorite passage from The Avoidable Vampirism - The Upir;

There are even some upirs that are so assimilated, they can do experiments with blood or carry vials of it with them wherever they go— which is an inclination that should not be encouraged.

Should not be encouraged.

Should not be encouraged.

... Certainly not. 

"I like feeling you close," Roman murmured, his long fingers now running past my waist as the sound of his voice pulled me back into the moment. "I don't like being apart from you, and having your blood with me at all times... feels like I'm carrying a piece of you, which I technically am." He bent down, his soft lips brushing against my ear-- it made my breath hitch. "What do you say we get as close as we can later tonight?" he whispered, a small kiss to my ear following. "Just you and me... And me in you?"

I could only smile. Especially as I spotted Brooke Bluebell and her cheerleader friends by the punch a little further away from us. I was sure my smile started to look rather sinister as my hand went into Roman's hair, pulling him closer as my eyes locked on Brooke's. 

Fucking cheerleader whore. I hated her. I hated everything she represented. And honestly? I couldn't quite remember why. All I knew, was that seeing the jealous look on her face made my heart race with pride and joy.

... Something told me that Roman and I deserved each other. We were both evil in our own ways. 

"That sounds perfect," I purred, leaning my head against the wall as Roman pressed soft kisses to my neck. "My parents aren't home, so..." I could feel him smiling against my skin at the reminder. It was such an exhilarating feeling. Especially when I knew Brooke was watching. 

"Great," Roman murmured, pulling away to look down at me with a mischievous look shimmering in his green eyes. "Can't wait to fold you and hear you whimper."

My blush deepened in record time; "Pervert,"

Roman only grinned. I was sure he was gonna say something much, much worse, something that would've made my toes curl on the spot if they weren't currently pressed against the front of my slightly uncomfortable heels, if one of the prom chaperones hadn't started walking towards us with hasty steps and a grumpy look on his face. It hit me that we were probably standing too close for his liking, and that he was there to make sure the students were being appropriate, which... let's face it, we weren't. 

I shook my head with panic as Roman opened his mouth to speak, and he seemed to catch onto what was happening rather quickly. With a quick nod, he took a long step away from me and held his hands up with a cheeky grin as the strict-looking chaperone approached. "Yes, officer?"

The chaperone sighed, passing fed-up glances between the two of us. I wondered where I had seen this man before. He was certainly someone's father who I had seen around drop-off hours. "I'm not the police," he grumbled. "You can put your hands down, Godfrey--"

"I invoke the fourth amendment!" Roman chimed in, winking at me. It was impossible not to smile.

The chaperone proceeded to groan, shaking his head; "Just-- no touching, okay?"

"Of... anything?"

"You can hold her hand, Godfrey, but anything else--"

"Oh, so it applies to things like... if I touch the wall?" Comically slow, Roman pressed his finger to the wall, hissing as though he was being burned by the law. "I'm a man of many crimes, as you see, officer!" He lowered his voice to a whisper; "I even touched the punch earlier! Actually, now that I think about it, I think I deserve to be kicked out... Can't believe I have allowed myself to commit such atrocities." With one last pout, Roman held his hands out to the chaperone, bowing his head in defeat. "Take me, oh, lead me away, kind sir! I will serve my time, and I will do my due diligence!--"

"Enough!" The chaperone barked. "As long as you didn't spike the goddamn punch, you're free to go!"

And with that, Roman's gig was up. He bit down hard on his lip to suppress his smirk, not to great success. "I wouldn't dare to, officer," he cooed, reaching for my hand in the smoothest manner known to man. 

The chaperone rolled his eyes, probably rethinking all his life choices, as Roman led me away with the both of us trying not to topple over from the laughter we were suppressing. 

"You're crazy," I said, squeezing his hand. I was worried my eyes had formed hearts. 

Roman shrugged, glancing down at me with a knowing smile. "And you're crazy about me," he murmured. "But, speaking of crazy..." He raised our hands, making me do a little twirl as I giggled. When I faced him again, Roman wrapped his arms around me as he glanced over at the punch not too far away from us; "What do you say actually spike it?"

"... What?" 

"It could be smart," he purred, swaying with me a little on the dance floor. "Brooke and her girls have been drinking it all night, and they just walked away... Maybe if they all get drunk off their asses when they come back, they won't be able to take their needle-revenge on me?" 

Roman was right. We had kept a bit of an eye on them all night, just to make sure they were at a safe distance at all times. It was a fun game, if I were to be honest, but... Roman was right. It was an unusual occurrence that he was, so I couldn't help but smile as I felt myself get convinced. 

"Fuck it,"

What ensued, were three nerve-wracking minutes at the table with the large punch-bowl. I stood in front of Roman, blocking the view of any possible chaperones as he skillfully got a silver flask out of the pocket of his jacket, and we spent a good amount of time positioning ourselves to make it all look casual, as though we weren't pouring straight vodka into the punch. Why Roman had any on him in the first place was a conversation for another time.

The second we saw Brooke and the cheerleaders approaching again, I felt my breath hitch-- had we made it or were we about to get caught?

However, Roman's timing was impeccable. With a smooth slither of his hand down to mine, he pulled me back to the dance floor, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to be escaping the scene of the crime at this pace. 

And suddenly, it felt like I had entered that silly dream of mine. Cause now, we were dancing. Slow. Close. The remnants of our silly escapade were visible across our lips, corners pulling up into knowing smiles as we held each other close. Roman's cologne was alluring as always, and so were his big, green eyes; I could see everything now. The scar on his right cheek, the way his pupils practically pulsated at the sight of me, the way he was drinking me in, the beautiful upturn of his nose, all to the way his warm breath fell against my cheek.

Roman's long, slender fingers intertwined with mine as his other hand rested at the small of my back; it was perfect. Better than I could've ever imagined it. It was intoxicating. Deadly, in the best of ways. 

If I were to say anything, now would be the moment. If I were to say the words that I had longed to say, now was the time. All I could hear was the sweet sound of Roman's breath, the dimmed shuffling of the tulle of my dress, and the mellow remnants of the slow song playing in the background. "Rome," I breathed. "There's something I need to tell you." My heart had never beat harder in my life, I was sure of it now.

I was sure of it.

Roman let out a short hum, lovingly nudging his nose against mine. "I need to tell you something too,"

The more I thought about the beating of my heart, the more I was sure it was going to beat its way up my throat. "Yeah?" I tried. Breathless. Breathless. 

"Yeah," Roman closed his eyes, gently pulling me closer. "But this might not be the place to tell you."

"I beg to differ," Something told me all my dreams were coming true in one go. If he was gonna say what I thought he was gonna say-- "There might never be a better moment than right here, right now." Please. Please. I wanted to beg him to say it first, if he wanted to say those three words at all. 

It felt like the air was a tissue. A tissue falling into me, which was pulled out with Roman's next intake of air. Every breath felt sharp, yet exhilarating, yet draining, yet filling, yet emptying.

"Not here," he whispered. "You'd have a heart attack."

It felt like I was about to have one anyway. "I doubt it," God, I was about to spill, wasn't I? "What if I go first?"

Roman's brows drew together as he pulled away just a centimeter or two, looking more confused than ever. "What?"

My mouth pulled into a line. Was I reading this wrong or was this one of those situations where I just had to grow a pair of balls on the spot and walk on the burning charcoal? "Like... if you're saying what I think you want to say?"

"And what do you think I want to say?"

"... Uhm," It hit me that my mouth had never been drier. Could I do this? Should I do this? "The... thing?"

"What thing?"

"That you, y'know... That you--"

"That I what?" Roman's words were insistent, rushed. It almost scared me into silence. "Baby?"

My lower lip trembled as I gathered the courage to let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. This was my sign to retreat. With a defeated sigh, my eyes shied away from his as my cheeks burned. "Forget it,"

"But..." Roman looked beyond lost. "Okay, I feel like I'm messing things up here. Let's start again."

"Start again?--"

"Start again," he insisted, his green eyes burning into mine as I dared to meet them again. "You were gonna tell me something."

Fuck no. Now, I was sure that'd be a fate worse than death. "I-- I don't know, I'm a little lost now, could we just forget?--"

My nervous ramble was interrupted by a loud groan from Roman. At first, my eyes widened at his weird reaction to me stumbling over my words, all until I realized his phone was vibrating in his pocket. Thankfully, the song in the background wasn't so quiet and slow anymore, and nobody around us seemed to mind. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, letting go of my hand to fish out his phone. "This is fucking ridiculous, who in their right mind is calling at this time of night?!--" 

Roman's anger came to a halt as he saw who was calling him. I was praying to all the Gods I could think of at the moment that it wasn't Letha. 

"It's Peter," he said, eyes rounding out. "I haven't gotten a hold of him in a while, I-- will you kill me if I take this?"

I let out a sigh. Typical. I suppose some things simply remain a dream. "No problem," My ass. 

"I'm sorry," Roman tried, placing two fingers beneath my chin to tilt my head up, placing an apologetic kiss to my lips. It was quick, hurried-- something told me I'd remember it. "I will be right back, and then you're gonna tell me that thing, okay? I'm dying to know. Dying."

"Sure," 

"Just-- meet me by the door leading to the hallway, okay? Not the exit, not the one leading outside, but the--"

"Hallway, yeah. I got it,"

The look on Roman's face told me he was genuinely sorry. That was a consolation, at least. "We're gonna talk, I promise. I really need to tell you what I wanted to say,"

I swear, if he ended up telling me he was getting a new car instead of telling me he was in love with me, I'd wack him with the first heavy purse I'd find. "Go, Rome,"

Roman disappeared from the crowd rather quickly, making his way outside with hurried steps, leaving me alone and frustrated on the dance floor. Muttering curse words under my breath, I waddled to the door leading to the hallway, leaning against the wall next to it with a disappointed sigh. The momentum of that whole conversation had left me a bit of a panting mess, and my heart had yet to slow down. I wondered how I was supposed to get out of telling him that I loved him. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl!

However, as I scoured my brain for something else to say, I felt the familiar smell of overly-sweet perfume fill my nostrils.

I stiffened in fear. 

Oh no.

My mouth dried in record time as Daniel approached me, his stride calm and calculated. It was odd to see him out of his blue varsity jacket, yet he hadn't disappointed; his tux was blue too. The more I kept thinking about the color blue, the more I thought about the ocean, and the more I thought about the ocean, the more clearly I saw myself holding Daniel's head underwater until he drowned. 

Daniel's smirk was nastier than ever. I couldn't believe I ever thought it was cute. "There you are," he purred, getting too close for my comfort. "You look like you're having the time of your life, as always."

I snorted. "Well, what do you expect of a brainless slut, as you so poetically called me? You've always had a way with words,"

"Damn," Daniel mumbled, pulling his hands into his pockets as he chuckled. "Did I really say that?"

"Yep," Asshole.

He nodded; "Ah... It seems you remember that night more than I do, then," Daniel's perfume had now infiltrated both my nose and my will to live. If only I could melt into a puddle on the floor and become immaterial-- that would've been mercy enough. 

"I bet you haven't come here to apologize, am I correct?" I asked. 

Daniel shrugged, amused. "I was actually coming here to ask you for an apology,"

"Me?! For what?" He never failed to say outrageous things, I could give him credit for that much. 

However, Daniel seemed taken aback by my response. "Are you really going to act like nothing happened?" 

"What?! Are you talking about you and I those thousands of years ago?--"

"No," Daniel's face fell. "I'm talking about what happened last weekend." 

Something was awfully wrong. My intuition made the hair at the back of my neck stand up to the sky, and I realized I was pressing myself up against the wall. "Last weekend?" I mumbled. What did I do last weekend? I couldn't remember. All I could remember from last weekend was waking up at the Godfrey Institute because of the car crash--

Wait.

Daniel took a step forward; "I've been waiting for you to get away from that boyfriend of yours for a while," he said, his words low and threatening. "Cause you and I are gonna go have a little talk, aren't we?"

"About what?" My voice came out frail, scared, as my breath continued to catch in my throat. For a second, my attention darted to the person coming out through the door to the hallway, and it reminded me that I was in a room filled with people. Roman was coming back any time now, too. Nothing could happen to me. "I don't know what you're--" 

And then it happened. Daniel stepped forward with speed I didn't know he had in him, and he jammed his foot between the door as he grabbed me with strength I couldn't fight. He clasped his hand over my mouth as I tried to fight him off, yet to no avail-- it didn't take many seconds before he managed to get me through the door, dragging me down the hallway and away from the party. 

I let out a cry against Daniel's palm as my heart raced. Biting him didn't work, as my teeth barely grazed his skin-- I tried to dig my nails into him, yet I didn't manage to reach any exposed skin. The grip he had around me was crushing, and I knew my ribs would ache for days to come. 

"We're gonna have a real nice talk," Daniel hissed into my ear. It was disgusting to have him so near, repulsing. His breath was unsteady as he spat his words, yet there was an exhilarated tone to his voice, like he was getting the biggest kick in the world out of this. "And I'm gonna let you go in one piece if you stop-- stop resisting!" 

Daniel managed to drag me down the hall and around the corner before he threw me down. I hit the ground with a hard thud, wincing as I tried to get up with my heart threatening to beat out of my ears. However, Daniel bent down and grabbed a fistful of my hair, twisting me to look at him as I cried out in pain, eyes watery with tears as I met his angry blue eyes. I tried to drive my nails into his hand, yet he only tightened his fist in my hair-- the pain was blinding. 

"Your spoiled brat of a boyfriend won't even pay for the damages," Daniel hissed in my face. His breath was warm, but in the most unpleasant way; it made me squirm as a tear spilled down my cheek. "Not a cent! The fucking Godfrey lawyers are blocking everything my family could've ever gotten as a compensation!"

I didn't manage to kick him away, no matter how hard I tried. "For a car?!" I yelled. "For a fucking car, Daniel?! Let me go!--"

"It's not about the car!" Daniel shouted, a few drops of spit landing on my face as I grimaced. "It's about the person driving it, you psycho!" 

"I don't-- Fuck!" It was impossible not to curse at the agony. It didn't help that he was now dragging my head backwards, making me wonder whether he'd snap my neck. Would he? Would he actually? "I don't remember anything! I don't-- I don't fucking know! Were you in it?!"

This only seemed to anger him further, and Daniel proceeded to bend down next to me to properly get up in my face. I wondered whether he saw how clumpy my mascara was getting from the heavy tears weighing down on my lashes. I wondered whether he perhaps was hard right now from staring at the terrified look on my face. I wondered if he'd be sadistic enough to shove his dick down my throat if he was. These thoughts only made me panic more, yet I felt my body going limp from the pain; my hands were still fighting. I was still trying. There was no way I'd give up, but it also felt like there was no way for me to win.

"Not a single thing?" Daniel hissed, fury burning in his eyes. "You don't remember how you and your prick boyfriend left my father bleeding in his car? You don't remember how he swerved off the road and got the front of his car completely smashed in?!"

The more I tried to conjure the image, the more the feeling of all-taking panic and dread infiltrated my veins. I tried to claw his hands out of my hair, my nails digging into his skin, suffocating, suffocating, dying, tearing, tearing, panic, panic, why, where, how?--

My current state unlocked the one I had been in on the day of the crash. 

And with the panic, I remembered everything. 

Tick. 

Tick tick.

I could almost hear Roman's voice. 

Tick tick tick.

Right now, I was there.

I was living through it again.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The sun was blinding, although the air was cold. I hurried down the steps of the school that day, running to Roman.

"Where were you?"

I was confused. "I was just!--"

"I've been waiting here for, like, ten minutes!" Roman hissed, getting up from the bonnet of his car. He was in the middle of what I could only call a fit of fury, and his hands were flying as he marched towards me with heavy, angry steps; "Get in the fucking car!" He grabbed a hold of my arm, forcefully pulling me toward him.

I let out a squeal of shock, yet I didn't resist. It was impossible not to jump when he put me in the passenger seat and slammed the door behind me. "What the hell, Roman? What's gotten into you today?!" 

When he got in the driver's seat, he didn't waste any time turning the engine on. "I don't like you lingering in math class," he grumbled, fixing his hair in the rearview mirror. Typical. If Roman had been a woman, he'd have been the type to get extensions and acrylic nails; I was sure of it, with how obsessed he was with his looks. "I don't need you fraternizing any more with the enemy than you already have."

"The enemy?-- Are we talking about Letha?!"

"Yes!" he barked, driving out of the school parking lot with a little too much speed. Had he not been the son of Olivia Godfrey, I was convinced he'd have about a dozen parking tickets for this type of driving. 

"Roman, are you serious right now?!"

"Dead serious,"

"You're being crazy!"

That was it for Roman, who immediately started yelling; "Don't fucking talk to me about crazy! You wanna see real crazy?! Let me crash the car and laugh as we bleed out on the side of the road, then you'll see that I'm acting more than reasonably!"

Instinctively, I reached for the handle of the car door. My breath was stuck in a loop in my chest, too thick to pass my trachea. "Please stop shouting," I echoed. "You're scaring me."

Roman's ears were red with anger. I used to think it was a cute trait of his, all until he threatened to kill us both in this vehicle. However, at the frail sound of my voice, he glanced at me for a second or two as he leaned one arm on the rolled-down car window; his big, green eyes rounded out with the realization, with the weight of his words. "I'm not--" He cleared his throat, returning his gaze to the road. "I'm not being serious. I wouldn't actually do that, you know me."

I could see the guilt settling in the lines of his brows coming together, yet my breath had yet to escape me; it was hard to think while being suffocated. "Stop the car,"

"Baby, I'm about to get on the highway!--"

"-- Stop the fucking car!"

Roman's anger returned as he struck the steering wheel, ignoring the way I jumped; "Fine!" With the speed he was driving at, it didn't take long before he managed to park by the road. He turned to me with a fed-up look in his eyes, one that brought my blood to a boil. It only got worse with the next words rolling off his tongue; "Christ, woman, what is it?" 

For the first time in my life, I hoped I'd get superpowers and lazer-blast his stupid head off. Watch it blow and fly away in chunks, with his blood splattering all over the car. I bet it was the same dark-red color as his beloved Jaguar. Without saying a word, knowing I'd only spew profanities at him if I stayed, I made my way out of the car despite there not being a walkable road in sight.

"Hey-- Come on!" Roman yelled, watching as I started walking away on the side of the road. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

I shivered with the incoming breeze. "Far away from you!" Pissed out of my mind, I wrapped myself tightly in my jacket and ignored the sight of a car passing by me at full speed. 

Roman got out of the car with haste, following me with urgency in his steps. "I'm not gonna drive us into a tree, I was just trying to make a point!" he yelled, dragging his hands through his hair to make sure his hairstyle was preserved in the wind. "Baby, please, come back here!--"

"It's not about that!" I yelled back, turning around to face him. Now, there were only a couple of meters between us as we gazed at each other, one with remorse, one with fury. "You say that you trust me, and then you explode when I come back a few minutes late from my class with Letha!"

"Well, of course I'm!--"

"No!" I barked, clenching my fists. "You've been acting so damn weird ever since the day we exchanged the ancient blood capsules, or whatever the fuck they are! You're being erratic! Are you still on cocaine, maybe? Have you relapsed?"

Roman's mouth opened and closed, offended. "I'm not on drugs!" he shouted, flailing his hands to make his point. "I'm not crazy!" 

"Rome, you can tell me!" It felt as though my heart was beating out of my chest, and I pressed my hands to the thumping motions of it. I could feel the tears welling in my eyes; this whole week with Roman had been so weird, intense, and it had all come down to this. All this pain, all these emotions. "I'm your girlfriend, I care about you more than anything else in the world, you can tell me if you're back to!--"

"I'm not on drugs! I'm not crazy!" He was chanting it to himself now. 

"I can get you the help you need, Rome, please!--"

"I'm not!" With the last boom of his voice, Roman seemed to grow taller on the spot. I was sure I was imagining the way his pupils dilated, the way his jaw twitched, and how he genuinely seemed to be growing an inch or two on the spot, as though he was about to pounce on me. 

Was I maybe tired? That had to be it. After math class, my brain was always fried, anyway. Nonetheless, my breath hitched in my chest as I took a step back in blinding fear-- yet what I thought was a step back, was more of a step to the left. I didn't have much control over my body as my hands trembled, paralyzed at the sight before me. Roman didn't look like himself. It was him, I was sure it was the man I loved, yet something was so terribly off. 

I hadn't realized I was standing in the road.

I was frozen to my spot.

I couldn't move. 

And as the sound of a car honking repeatedly hit my ears, I saw nothing but the way Roman's pupils shrunk in an instant. Sheer panic filled his eyes. I barely registered how he got to me, but it took him less than a second when it should've taken him at least three. 

Roman was too late, yet exactly on time-- it felt like a breeze wrapped itself around me with the swiftness of light, and before I knew it, I screamed as I was lifted off the ground and swept up in his arms. Too scared to register where we were, I only felt the prickling of grass in my hair as I soon heard a crash, a bang, and an alarm going off. 

I held onto Roman's strong body for dear life as my high-pitched screams refused to subside, and tears welled up in my eyes which were squeezed shut in fear. He had wrapped himself around me in a protective hold and made sure I had landed on top of him in the grass by the road, a little too far from where we should've naturally landed, and Roman clutched onto the fabric of my jacket as he tried to shake me out of my shock. 

It didn't work. My throat was getting sore, and I was trembling like a wet, abandoned kitten. 

"Are you hurt?" Roman called out. "Hey, are you hurt?!"

With my next sob, the words came rushing out; "N-No!" 

He let out a sigh of relief as he pressed me tighter to his chest, now stroking the back of my head and kissing my teary cheeks. "You're alright. It's okay, I'm here, you're alright," he cooed, gently rolling me down to the grass beside him. 

I didn't want to let him go. I held onto his hair like a newborn, sobbing. "I'm sorry! I-I'm so, so-- so sorry!--"

"Shh, it's okay," Roman kissed my lips which were salty with tears. "It's not your fault, it's okay. Try to breathe, alright?"

I would've stayed like that, horrified and shell-shocked at our near meet with death, had I not heard pained groans in the distance. I dared to open my eyes, and immediately saw the cloud of smoke coming from the car with the peeping noise. There was a man groaning in pain, and his body was splayed over the steering wheel. And just as I didn't think it could get any worse, I saw the indent of a footprint in the car door-- 

My shaking subsided as I rose from the grass, sitting up in a zombie-like state. My eyes refused to leave the image before me. 

Had Roman... kicked the car away?

Had he kicked a car coming our way at about a hundred kilometers an hour?

Before I could ponder it any longer, Roman grabbed my chin with the gentlest touch known to man and turned me to him. He didn't have a single scratch on him. Shouldn't he be gasping in pain at the blow of landing on his back with me on top of him? His eyes were round, worried, as he scanned me for any injuries. "How does your head feel? Are you dizzy? You didn't hit your head, did you?"

"No," I breathed. "Roman, the car--"

"Fuck that for a second, do I need to take you to a hospital?" The look in his eyes quickly went from worried to crazed, like he was angry that I was choosing to have sympathy for the person in the car instead of caring about myself first. 

I blinked. Once. Twice. "Roman?"

"Yes?"

"The guy in there might be dead. Or dying," 

"I know," he echoed. "But he might also be bleeding."

"Exactly," With shaky steps, I tried to raise myself to the ground. The beeping of the car was driving me mad with guilt and worry. "He might be bleeding, so we need to--"

"Call an ambulance, I know," 

"No, we need to check if he's!--"

"Bleeding? Dying? Yeah, I can't," Roman grabbed my hand, forcing me to look into his eyes. They were round with a look I hadn't seen before, like he was trying to convey something I'd hopefully understand. "I shouldn't go near it when it's that much fresh blood." He squeezed my fingers before he brought them to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "And you're about to faint."

"... What?" 

"You have about five seconds,"

"How do you?--"

"I'm not crazy," Roman said, an end statement. "I'll make sure you won't remember most of this, but trust me. I'll take care of it."

The worst thing was that he was right. I couldn't do anything to stop it when I started seeing white spots, and I let out a panicked yell. It felt like my head was caving into itself; that was a feeling that would stay with me. I covered my ears before I realized I couldn't feel my toes, and just as I went down, Roman went up to catch me in his arms.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

And as I faded out of the memory, it took longer than expected to snap out of it.

I was done.

Done.

I was so, so sure, and I had no idea why everything was black, why I couldn't move, why I felt my lungs freeze over with the inability to breathe.

It lasted for too long. Way too long. An eternity. 

Again.

Up until it felt like a scream was being dragged out of me by force, again, like someone had grabbed a hold of my tongue and tugged me forward, again-- the bright lights of the school hallway shone through my lids before they sprung open in pure panic, and I arched off the ground with a gasp for air.

It felt like I was taking my first breaths again, or like I had been drowning, all over again. I clawed at my hands, my nails digging into the fabric of my dress, suffocating, suffocating, dying, tearing, tearing, panic, panic, why, where, how, again?—

There was a release. I no longer felt like my neck was about to snap, and there was no longer pressure on my scalp as I was released from Daniel's grip on my hair. My body fell limp against the floor as I heard a loud thud to my right along with a shrill cry of pain. 

As I slowly came back to my senses, I realized that Daniel was being repeatedly punched against the lockers by none other than Roman Godfrey. There was no way for him to fight off the repeated attacks, no way at all, as Roman's fist landed blow after blow with no mercy.

"Rome," I wheezed, coughing and wincing as I tried to get up from the floor. I barely had any power in my body anymore-- it didn't work.

The sound of his nickname had Roman letting go of Daniel in an instant, who fell limp to the floor with a cry of pain. Roman looked completely out of it; his green eyes were wild with fury, worry, and an untameable thirst for revenge. I hadn't seen him like this before, so possessed. 

He opened his mouth to say something, yet Daniel let out a wail; "He can't even walk anymore, Godfrey! You fuckers left my father in a coma, and when he woke up, he was fucking paralyzed from the neck down!" 

My head was pounding. This couldn't be true. This was a nightmare.

"You ruined his life!" Daniel yelled, tears spilling down his cheeks as he tried to get up. "And you ruined mine! You took my father from me, and he will never be the same again!"

Roman took several deep breaths. It was clear that he wanted to beat Daniel to a pulp, yet he was holding back. "You think I wanted any of that?" he tried, balling his fists. "Accidents happen all the fucking time!--"

"He says you kicked the car!" Daniel shouted. His voice was shaking. Profusely. It dawned on me how scared he truly looked. "That you-- you kicked it off the road!"

Roman's fists remained clenched. "Did you maybe have too much of the punch?" he asked, attempting to incorporate a calm tone. "You can't possibly be hearing yourself now, Goldman. Explain how I'm supposed to have kicked away a car coming at me at full speed?"

Daniel's lower lip trembled as it caught a few of his tears. "Everyone knows something's wrong with you, Godfrey. It's just a matter of time until someone figures out your secret," A beat. A snarl. "You're a freak."

There was a long pause. Roman was so furious that he could only glare. I could see the way his jaw clenched and how his hands were now balled so tightly they were shaking. 

Daniel caught onto it. Despite looking scared out of his mind, tears still staining his cheeks, he conjured a victorious smile which only confused me further. "You gonna hit me again? You gonna beat me to a pulp in front of your girl?" He nodded towards me, a mocking laugh following as his eyes shone with evil glee.

Roman's eye twitched. I held my breath. 

"You think she'll stay with you once she knows what you're capable of? You think she'll still be yours?" Daniel wiped his nose, staring up at Roman through his brows with his vicious eyes. "You and I are one and the same. The way she looks at me, the hate, the disgust? You're going to know exactly how I feel."

"No," Roman hissed, breathless. "I'm nothing like you," 

"Oh yeah? Do you really believe that?" 

"You're scum!--"

"And you're a fucking sadist, just like me!" Daniel didn't even try to wipe the grin off his beaten face. He simply sighed as he rested his head against the lockers, closing his eyes as though he was reliving his best day; "Bet you would've killed to see the look she had in her eyes when I nearly snapped her neck in half, just before you came... The tears, the fear. She has these pretty whimpers when she's in pain, y'know?" Daniel opened his eyes, staring up at Roman through his brows. "Are you going to let me get away with that?"

I couldn't stay quiet anymore; the panicked cry I let out was unlike anything I ever had before. "No, don't listen to him!--"

"I would've left her here for you to find, just like what you two did to my father!" Daniel chanted. "I would've ruined her, and it would've been all your fault, Godfrey!"

That was it. It was over. I knew it the second those words filled the hallway. His fault. 

Roman snapped. He yelled out in fury, and his hands flew to Daniel's neck where he was on the floor, crushing his windpipes along with any hope for breaths or protests. The look in Roman's eyes was too wild, too uncontrolled, too unstable for my liking-- he looked like he was two seconds away from snapping his neck like a twig, just like what Daniel would've done to me.

"Stop it!" I screamed, terror freezing me to my spot. "Stop it, Roman, stop!--"

"Do-- it!" Daniel wheezed, grinning. "Show her-- what a monster you are!"

My heart was pounding in my ears. No, no, no!

Roman's voice boomed throughout the hallway; "I will break your fucking hands if you touch her again, do you hear me?!"

The amusement in Daniel's eyes quickly disintegrated into abject horror. It was the lack of air. This was the moment he realized one very crucial detail; that all his taunting, all his encouragement, could actually get him very, very badly hurt. "W-Wait--"

"Do you hear me?!"

"Y-Yes!--"

"I will tear you apart!" Roman yelled, tightening his grip. "Is that what you want?!"

Daniel's face was turning a peculiar shade of purple as panic settled in his body. His hands went to Roman's, clawing at them, but to no avail. It was essentially a match he couldn't ever hope to win. It would've been impossible. Roman was too strong, too quick, too sharp-- Daniel didn't stand a chance.

I didn't think it could yet worse, yet somehow it did. In a moment which shouldn't have been possible, not so easily, Roman dragged Daniel's sputtering body up along the locker, lifting him from the ground with no exertion or effort. It made me gasp as I propped myself up from the floor, tears rushing down my cheeks as I watched the scene before me, scared into silence.

When Daniel's legs were dangling off the floor, I knew he had a few seconds before he was out. It was clear in the way his eyes started bulging and how his hands fell limp by his sides. 

Roman's last words were chilling; "Let me show you how much of a monster I can be,"

Daniel let out a short, defeated wheeze. Had he not been choking, it would've been a laugh. He had won, but now he had to pay the price. He squeezed his eyes shut with his last efforts, ready for the beating of his life, all until--

"No, that's enough!" I cried, exhausted by the terror. "Roman, enough!"

It was as though something changed in Roman at the sound of my voice, and the veins were no longer bulging from his hands as he realized the weight of what he had been about to do. With that, he let go of Daniel, who collapsed down along the lockers for the second time tonight; air rushed to his lungs with massive gulps, and his face was no longer purple from the blood rushing to his face.

Now that I remembered everything from the day of the crash, I saw the similarities. The way Roman seemed somewhat taller, how unnaturally wide his pupils dilated, and the way his jaw twitched. 

For the first time, I was seeing him for what he truly might be.

For what he... was. 

Upirism lives beneath their skin, scratches at their teeth, and corrupts their minds through dark urges in constant attempts to drive them to the edge of genesis. Do you suspect you are a upir, or do you recognize a darkness in your loved ones? 

I do.

I do.

Gulping, I finally found the courage and strength to get off the floor. My hands were shaking, and so were my knees-- I was sure my mascara had stained my cheeks at this point, and I felt more breathless than ever as I faced the man I loved. 

What made everything worse, was that Roman looked more beautiful than ever. Hair disheveled, broad shoulders raising with every shaky breath, lips parted. The tux only added to the sight-- he was perfect. Despite the sleeves of his jacket being rolled up, and a part of his shirt being untucked from his pants, he was perfect, and he always would be. His round, green eyes were barely green with how big his pupils were, pulsing with adrenaline; "Are you okay?" he asked, taking a step forward and away from Daniel. "Are you hurt? You were practically unconscious when I came--" 

Roman's words came to a halt when he saw how quickly I took a step back.

My breath was stuck in my chest. I couldn't speak. 

"You look scared. Don't be," he tried. "He's fine, see?" Roman turned around to face Daniel's body, where he lay limp and barely conscious, and proceeded to shortly kick him. 

It made me gasp, clasping my hand over my mouth as Daniel let out a pained whimper. My stomach felt uneasy-- I really didn't want to throw up here.

When Roman saw my horror, he immediately took a step away from Daniel. It hadn't yet dawned on him why I was so scared. "I'm so sorry about this," he said. "I'm sorry I stepped away. I should've never left your side."

I tried to speak, yet nothing would come out. Only tears rushed from my system, peaking at my chin before dripping down to the floor. 

Suddenly, there was a loud cheer from down the hall, a reminder of the prom going on just a door away. It made me jump, frozen in fear.

It was clear that Roman found it to be ironic, and he alternated between glancing down the hall and looking at me. "You still look good," he mumbled, a trying smile tugging at the corners of his perfect lips. Those perfect, plush lips that used to softly press against mine. Was he hoping we could go back inside and act like nothing had happened? "I have a comb you can use, if you want? The mascara is easy to wipe away, I think, and I bet there'll be no one in the restroom, so we can both go and fix ourselves and--"

When he took another step forward, I took another step back.

Roman stilled. His eyes softened with hurt. "Baby,"

I shook my head. That was the only thing I could do.

"Didn't you hear what he was saying? He wanted to-- wanted to do all these awful things to you, I had to do this,"

I couldn't breathe. 

Roman insisted; "I was just protecting you," Despite his calm tone, I spotted the slight shake he had to his hands. "Don't think about all that bullshit he said, okay? He's not in his right mind, he's clearly insane!--"

"His dad, Roman!" My ability to speak returned to me with my growing frustration.

"-- Was a very sad, tragic thing, yes! I'm not denying it!" With the next step Roman took, I stayed in place. He let out a string of controlled, short breaths, trying to calm himself down. "But he didn't have to come after you. I would've given him the money he needed, but it's my mom who controls the assets. All our dear Daniel had to do, was to talk to me. No one had to get hurt."

I squeezed my eyes shut, yet my tears still fell past my lashes. 

Roman let out a sigh which resembled a soft hum. "All that matters is that you're okay. That's all that matters. To me, you're all that matters,"

As his big hands framed my face, holding me when he finally got close enough, I still didn't open my eyes. I couldn't. I was scared out of my mind. Roman's touch was no longer a comfort-- it was chilling to know that they were choking someone less than a minute ago. 

"Are you scared?" he whispered, worry coating his deep voice. "You don't have to be scared of me, I'm not-- I'm not some monster."

I couldn't believe him. His words echoed in my head. Let me show you how much of a monster I can be. 

Let me show you.

"I'm not," Roman insisted. He didn't sound like he believed it much himself. "I'm all yours, only yours. That's all I am, and that's all that I ever will be. You need to know that."

Let me show you.

"Please look at me," 

Let me show you.

"Please," he begged. "I-- I've made some mistakes, but I'm still your Roman. Can't you stomach it anymore? Is me wanting to protect you repulsive to you?" 

I shook my head; not at all. My hands found his chest, feeling it raise against my palms. I used to lay there. Fall asleep there, listening to his beating heart. 

"What did you want me to do, then?" Roman whispered. "You're my everything. You're everything. I couldn't let him get away with doing all of that, I-- I couldn't. I'm sorry if it scared you, I'm sorry you had to see me like that, and I'm so sorry I ever left... I should've stayed with you. I'm a fool. I should've stayed and heard what you wanted to tell me."

I didn't need to look at him to know he was crying, now. His voice was breaking. Actively. It shattered me. 

"Cause... you still want to tell me, right?" 

Something told me he knew what I had wanted to tell him.

My hand crept further up Roman's broad chest as I quietly sobbed, my whole body shaking. My fingers were at his neck, tracing his soft skin.

Roman's grip on my face tightened in desperation, yet his voice came out in a frail, low murmur; "Please-- Please tell me," 

I love you. I love you. If only Roman could read minds. I couldn't conjure the words, not in this state. 

My silence only broke him further. Hopeless, he pressed his tear-stained lips to mine in a sheer cry for mercy. "Please," he whispered between repeated kisses I couldn't reciprocate. "Please-- Please--"

My fingers had managed to slip between the two top buttons of his shirt, and they now grazed the vial of my blood around his neck. As Roman continued to kiss me, desperately pressing my body up against his, I let out a sob as I twisted the capsule, just like I had once practiced; his breath hitched as I wrapped my hand around the vial, clutching it as I pulled it away from him without a word.

Roman's hold on my face disappeared as his hands floated an inch away from my face, his big eyes watery with hurt and confusion. 

I told myself it was for the best. The blood had poisoned his thoughts for too long. 

My first step away was slow, trying.

Tick.

Tick tick.

My second was quickly followed by a sprint down the hallway, away from Roman, away from Daniel, away from everything.

Tick tick tick.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Have you ever thought about death? Of course you have, everyone has-- but have you ever felt it?

It felt like I was dying for the hundredth time this week. The agony was pressing at the sides of my head, and it made me hope it would finally cave in on itself just to spare me the torture of being awake. 

It was the fear that brought me to Letha's doorstep. The thing I didn't want to be true. Everything had balled up into a ginormous travesty of a boulder, and I could no longer try to push it over the side of the mountain-- I was no Sisyphus. 

I couldn't begin to comprehend how shocked Letha must've been when she opened the door. She opened and closed her mouth, scanning the mascara which had stained my cheeks, and the state of the top of my hair. "What the fuck?" she cursed under her breath, grabbing my hand to pull me inside. "What are you doing here? What happened?"

I felt like a shell of the person I used to be. Like I had been cracked open like a lobster, with someone actively scooping out my insides. Letha's house smelled of expensive fragrance sticks you'd buy from Rituals-- I recognized the one she had in her house at the moment, the ritual of hammam. It was her favorite, I remembered that much. I felt at home. It was an odd feeling.

"Your dress," Unsure what to do, Letha bent down to fix the way my dress fell. "Seriously, what happened?--"

"A while ago, you said you wanted to tell me the truth about Roman," My voice was sharp, hollow, as I stared at the girl who was once my best friend. I had cried into her shoulder before, we had shared countless laughs-- what had I done? "What was it?"

Letha stilled with shock when she straightened up, meeting my troubled gaze. "Shouldn't you be at prom?"

"Letha, I need!--"

"Where even is, Roman, actually?"

"You need to tell me!" I cried. "You need-- I need to know, I need to hear it from you, because I need someone to tell me that I've gone crazy!"

With slow motions, Letha stretched out her hands to place them gently on my shoulders. "Let's take some deep breaths, okay? Whatever this is, I bet you and Roman will get through this. Did you have a fight? It can be painful to argue with your boyfriend, and it really can feel like you're going crazy. I get it, and--"

"-- I have this book," I interrupted, feeling my tears press up against my lashes once more. "It's really long and dreadful, but I've read the whole thing over and over about five times now."

The worry streaking across Letha's face turned into a look of confusion. "Okay...? As long as it's not Fifty Shades again, I'm listening,"

It was odd to speak to someone that knew me so well. She knew I had read that stupid book several times, despite how ridiculous it could be at times. It almost threw me off. "The more I read the book, the more I saw the... similarities with Roman,"

Letha grimaced; "Fifty Shades?"

"No! The other one!"

"Oh, alright. Phew,"

I groaned, rubbing my temples. I was exhausted. "You said I deserved to know the truth about him, so I'm begging you, Letha, to put everything aside," My breath struggled to steady. "What was it?"

Her palms lifted from my shoulders. "I-- I don't know how to say it, or whether I should tell you at all. I only ever mentioned it because I thought you were in danger, but--" Letha stilled. It was clear on her face that she knew she had said too much.

"Danger?" I echoed. "Letha?"

With a quick hitch of her breath, Letha made her way past me with hasty steps and disappeared into the living room.

"Please!" I followed her, watching as she paced back and forth in the big room, anxiously biting her nails. "Letha, I need to hear it from you, I need to know that I'm wrong, I need to hear that it's something else than what I think it is!"

"I-- I don't, I can't!--"

"Tell me!"  I needed to hear it out loud. I burned to hear it from someone else than the voice in my head.

"N-No, I!--"

"Letha!"

"It's too-- I can't!--"

"Say it!" 

Letha stilled with the boom of my voice. She stared back at me from across the room, no longer pacing as she finally dared to face the crazed look in my eyes. There was a long pause, a silence that laid itself over us like a cold blanket-- "What book was it?" she breathed.

"The--" I hated this title. "The avoidable vampirism, the--" I couldn't say the word. I couldn't.

Letha nodded. It was barely noticeable, and it resembled an involuntary tic. "Yes,"

Yes?

"Yes, he is,"

"Say it," I whispered. "Please."

Letha closed her eyes, resigning;

"Roman's a upir,"

The house was dead silent. You could've heard a pin drop. There were faint remnants of the wind brushing past the large tree outside the property, with the rustling of the leaves filling the sonic void. Letha wasn't moving. Neither was I. How does one process such news? It was a peculiar feeling-- I felt like I had already known for a long time. There was no shockwave, as I had expected there to be. 

"Ah," was all I said. It left Letha to raise a brow, visibly off-put by my reaction. 

I nodded to myself a couple times, glancing around the living room I used to know better than the back of my hand. A small huff escaped me, similarly to a laugh; I wondered whether my brain was melting. It surely felt like it. 

For a second, I thought that was it. That there would be no blow to the reveal. That I was handling it surprisingly well, and that it'd be the end of it. However, the more breaths I took, the less I felt like I was breathing. The less I felt I was breathing, the more I could feel the painful thumping of my heart against my ribs, every beat serving as a reminder that I was still alive, still in this moment, still processing. 

My breath got stuck in my throat with the next heave-- my hands flew to my necklace, trying to find the clasp. It was too tight, too tight. With shaking fingers, I tried to get it off, needed it off, right now. It didn't work, no matter how hard I tried, and my eyes welled with tears as I ripped my necklace off with a gasp, hoping I'd finally be able to breathe. The beads rolled along the hardwood floors as I clutched at my chest, hitting my chest in hopes that air would fill it.

Letha's big, green eyes were filled with worry as she rushed to me, unsure how to help. "Hey, hey, breathe, okay?--"

The corset of my dress was suddenly an agonizing pressure around my waist, and my fingers went to the ribbons at the back to slacken it. It didn't work, no matter what I tried, and the sob I let out was followed by a broken plea; "Help-- H-Help!--" 

Letha hurried to get behind me as I slowly sank to the floor, choking on my tears as she untied the ribbons at full speed. My hands were tearing at my dress, choking with my last breaths as I descended into the heap of tulle around me-- I tried to scream, yet no sound would come. 

In a last attempt, Letha grabbed the ribbons with full force and pulled them apart, ripping the fabric in half as my corset finally came apart. 

What followed was a mix of a sob and a heave, a choked sound filling the room as I leaned forward into the tulle, taking sharp breaths of release. I could finally breathe. I was breathing again. I wept into my hands as Letha's soft hands stroked my exposed back, sitting down on the floor next to me as she brought my body as close to hers as she could. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I'm so, so sorry."

I shook in her arms, drowning in tears. It was true. Roman was a upir. I had been right all along, yet I had also been stupid enough to suppress it. The sadness, the heartbreak, that hit me felt like a death-sentence, and I held onto Letha as my whole body trembled with the realization; "I love him," I cried. "I love-- I love him!"

"I know," Letha stroked my hair, sighing. "I tried to get to you before you got that far, but there always comes a point when you can no longer do anything. I've learned that the hard way, now."

This was worse than death. "What do I do?" I breathed. "I don't-- I don't know what to do!"

"... You know what you have to do," 

It only made me clutch onto her harder, and I squeezed my eyes shut in hopes of stopping the stream of tears. I wondered how I had any more of them in my system. "I don't-- think I can!"

"I only want what's best for you," Letha cooed, patting away my fallen tears. "And I know that Roman can be charming, and he can be very nice when he wants to be, but... now that you know what he is, how are you going to believe him ever again? He's lied to you all this time, and he would've never told you himself. You're aware that he's putting you in danger every time he's near you?"

I shook my head; "N-No, Roman would never!--"

"If you read a whole book about upirs, you probably know what he's capable of?"

"He'd never-- never hurt me!--"

"Maybe he wouldn't hurt you, but you know he can control people, right?" Letha sighed once more, tilting my head upwards so that I would meet her eyes. "He did that to me our whole childhood. His favorite thing to do in the winter was to make me stick my tongue on metal poles and watch me cry when I couldn't detach it."

What? "But!--"

"How can you ever be sure that your actions are yours?" Letha's eyes were so intense, so desperate to get her point across. "How can you ever trust him again?"

How many times hadn't I thought he was mesmerizing me? I could count them on my fingers, but the thought was still unsettling. "I... don't know,"

Letha shifted to sit on her knees, watching my mascara paint my cheeks with long, black streaks. "I'm glad you came to me," she murmured, softening her look. "I'm glad you see that I'm the only one that can help you. We should put everything behind us and stick together again, and we have to. I'm all you have now. Roman... he's dangerous. You're safe with me."

I was so, so tired. I didn't have the energy to fight the free help coming my way, yet... something felt off. "He's not dangerous," I tried, in denial. "He's--"

"He's what?" Letha insisted, hardening her gaze. This was giving me whiplash. "Seriously! He could snap any day, can't you see?! And who would be closest to him the day he's overcome with thirst?" 

"No!--"

"It'd be you!" Letha grabbed my face, and it only made my tears flow faster, hanging from my quivering chin. "It'd be you, and I can't lose you again, not in that way!"

The more my vision blurred, the weaker I felt. "I love him,"

"I know,"

"I-- I love him,"

"But you need to love yourself more," she whispered. Letha let go of my face, wrapping her arms around me in a warm embrace. She smelled just like she did all those months ago. My best friend, Letha. I missed her more than anything. 

How could I ever love anything or anyone more than I loved Roman? I didn't have space for that in my body. I didn't have the capacity. 

"Do it for your life," Letha pleaded, her voice smooth as honey. It felt like she was talking me to sleep. "Please."

A life without Roman? I couldn't imagine it. Not when we had promised each other forever.

But... forever for him probably meant forever. 

Roman is a upir. 

Roman is a upir.

I let out another cry into Letha's shoulder; this was a nightmare I wouldn't ever wake up from.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

When you get devastating news, you never think of what happens afterward. It's similar to when someone dies-- you get the news, in comes the shock, and then you get handed the papers on what to do with the body. No one ever thinks about having to design the flyer for the funeral, right? 

There is a certain weight in your body as you go through the motions you know you have to go through. Your hands feel heavy as you hold your next meal before your mouth, realizing that life moves on, whether you want it to or not. You still need to drink water, eat, wake up, and function. 

And just as I opened the door to my empty home, I felt all of that at once. I wanted to freak out and sob in despair to the end of my days, yet I had to get back home. I had to get out of the clothes Letha had given me after I ruined my dress, I had to eat something to fill my rumbling stomach, and I had to sleep. How was I supposed to do any of that when it felt like my world was crashing down on me?

It felt like someone had pressed a button at the top of my head, putting me on auto-pilot. I didn't even notice that I was still wearing my jacket as I made my way to the kitchen with heavy steps, mindlessly opening the fridge and taking a... cucumber?

Why was I holding a cucumber?

Fuck it.

I couldn't think. I didn't even close the fridge. My mind was empty as I put it down on the kitchen island, not even bothering to find a cutting board. I didn't want to think. The more I thought, the more I thought about Roman. Roman and his perfect lips, Roman and his beautiful laugh, Roman and his green, green, green eyes. Roman, the man I loved. Roman, the upir. 

Involuntary tears rushed down my cheeks as my face remained stoic. I was exhausted. I had no idea how I was still moving. My hands were mindlessly tapping the kitchen surfaces around me, hoping I'd somehow find a knife that way. Not that I'd be particularly successful, but maybe I didn't want to be? I wasn't even planning on washing the cucumber. Maybe I hoped the germs would kill me. Could you die from an unwashed cucumber? I had no idea. There was probably a higher possibility that Roman would kill me first. 

... I hated that thought. 

I wish I didn't have to have it.

However, as my hands found the selection of knives, I heard a sound coming from behind me. It came from the other side of the kitchen island, the one I had my back turned to. I didn't think much of it first; houses creak all the time, surely. But then came the scrape-- a deliberate, jarring screech of a chair being pulled out from the kitchen island.

My parents were out of town. 

Someone was in my house.

Someone was pulling out a chair.

I froze, every muscle in my body locking up, my breath catching in my throat.  The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps sent a chill crawling down my spine. They weren’t hurried or hesitant-- they were purposeful, unhurried, as though whoever was there wanted me to hear.

I gripped the counter with trembling fingers, my pulse hammering in my ears. I didn’t dare look back, but every inch of me screamed to run. My fingers brushed the cold handle of the biggest knife I could find, finally. The familiar fight-or-flight surged through me, but I couldn’t choose. All I could do was grip the knife and hold it as though it were a lifeline.

When the footsteps stopped, I thought for a moment that maybe, just maybe, I had imagined it. 

But then-- the breath.

A low, soft exhale just inches behind me.

Now or never. I spun around with a panicked yell, the knife held high, ready to plunge it into whoever had invaded my home-- My scream got stuck in my throat when the blade pointed at the chest of a tall figure standing in the dark, his face barely illuminated by the faint glow of the refrigerator light.

Roman.

Roman didn't even bother to stop me, didn't jump away, nothing. The tip of my knife was barely dipping into his solar plexus, yet I was sure it would've been enough to draw blood on any other person; it didn't even pierce his skin. 

I couldn't believe what was happening. He somehow didn't look like himself-- it was Roman like I’d never seen him before. His expression was blank, too blank, the kind of blank that made my stomach churn. He didn’t flinch at the blade hovering just below his sternum. His green eyes locked onto mine with a kind of detachment, as though I wasn’t holding a weapon to his chest at all.

“You done?” he said, his voice carrying an eerie stillness.

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. My knuckles whitened around the handle.

Roman’s eyes flickered down to the blade, then back to me. “Put it down,” he said, his tone measured but firm.

“No,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

Roman took a quiet step back, glancing down at the large knife I was holding at him with an unreadable emotion shimmering in his big, green eyes. "Right..." he huffed, sucking in a sharp breath. His gaze darted up to meet mine in the dark of the kitchen. "Is that how you want to do this?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. There was no other way, not when I knew the truth. 

Roman’s lips parted, and the breath that escaped wasn’t human—it was low, steady, and calculating, like a predator sizing up its prey. His gaze locked onto the knife, then slowly dragged up to meet mine. His pupils were darker now, swallowing the green of his eyes, and the silence between us stretched too long.

“If you’re gonna do it, don't hesitate,” Roman's voice was soft, yet laced with something cold and merciless. He took a single step forward, the tip of the knife now pressing harder against his chest. “You won’t get another chance.”

I gasped, stumbling back, but Roman didn’t follow. He stayed in the shadows, his figure looming over me like some unholy force. “Fine. This is how it's gonna go,” he continued, his tone so calm it made my blood run cold. “You’re going to put that down and listen. No running, no screaming. I deserve that much."

I tightened my grip on the knife, my chest heaving. “Why should I listen to you?"

A huff-- Roman was pissed. "Cause I'm really not in the mood for chasing you. It'd be over in less than three seconds, and that's never fun," Roman's voice dropped to a near whisper; "You wanna fight me, or do you want to be smart about this?"

I didn't lower my knife. I couldn't. "Alright," I breathed. "Talk, then."

Roman tilted his head, studying me, his lips curving into the faintest ghost of a smirk-- it didn't reach his eyes. "There you go," he said. 

"Good girl."

(a/n: ... are u still breathing? cause I'm not!!!! AGHHH😭 thank you for reading this if you got this far, this is so so much lore so if your brain is overheating pls pls go grab an icecream, you deserve it, and I LOVE YOUUU MWAHHH CAN'T WAIT TO SHOW Y'ALL THE REST OF THIS STORY!!)

here are all the chapters!<3: PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12

loveliest taglist of all time:

@mentallyscreamingsincebirth @putherup @corawithfanfiction @vladsgirlxx

@iamaslytherin0 @sexualparkour @the-universe-is-complicated @heavenly-bratt

@lafemme-nk @namiusedbubble @useyourwandbro @strmborns @literally-lani

@virgosapphire79 @star-girl-04 @veyzus @ddipotassium @pecxiebu

@mil88691 @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @katifefe @sn0wybowie-blog

@lilithskywalker @likecherriesinthespring @sadheartjellyfish @vadersangel

@shehangsbrightly @burningmiraclekingdom @dollforaswan @austinswhitewolf

@nico-velvet @shiiiii-okayyyy @theantagonistalwaysdies @blackbluerose666

@obexes @rosecoloureddudez @amoure020 @itsaeasykill

@succubustacy @carmillavalentine @scarledy @chaneloberlin62727

@belovedmoony @lokitargaryen @vienneviennaxx @ellie1725

@taintandviolent

[solxamber]

Hi! Trey, romantic, Casual by Chappell Roan:)

"Is it casual now?" || Trey Clover

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Casual by Chappell Roan

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 730

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Suggestive Content, Casual to serious relationship, Happy Ending

Trey doesn’t know what to do with you.

His friends say he should walk away. Riddle tells him he's being reckless. Cater tells him to live a little, but not this much. Even Ace, of all people, warns him not to get too attached.

"They’re just playing with you, Trey. You’re a good guy, but you’re not special to them. Something fun to pass the time."

He knows they’re right.

But when you text him at midnight, he still picks up his phone. When you tug him into your room, he still lets you push him against the wall.

When your hands are in his hair and your lips are on his neck, he still groans and gives you everything you want.

He knows how this ends.

You’ll tease him, take what you need, and then you’ll leave. And yet—

When you press against him in the dark, breath hot against his ear, when you whisper “You’re so good to me, Trey,”—he still hopes.

And he hates himself for it.

He should be stronger than this.

But every time he’s with you, his resolve cracks like fragile glass.

Because you never stay away for long.

You let him hold you after, even when you say this isn’t serious. You let him touch you, let his fingers linger, let him pull you back for one last kiss, then another, and another.

You tell him not to get attached, and then you slip your hands under his shirt, run your nails down his back, and he groans into your mouth.

You make it impossible for him to let go.

And god, he wants to let go.

Because you don’t belong to him. You never have.

But his shirts are still in your room. Your scent lingers on his skin. Your toothbrush sits next to his in the bathroom, and when he finds your favorite ring in his pocket one day, he swears he’s losing his mind.

He tries to be casual, too. He tries to play the same game.

But he still wakes up wanting more.

He wants to wake up with you in his arms, your legs tangled with his, your breath warm against his collarbone.

He wants you to drag him to brunch and introduce him as your boyfriend, wants to hear you say it like you mean it.

He wants lazy Sundays with you, wants you curled against his chest on the couch, wants to kiss you slow and deep without thinking it might be the last time.

Most of all, he wants you to want him back.

But he can’t pine alone forever.

So tonight, he’s ending this.

You’re draped over him, body warm and pliant, your fingers still tracing over his chest, teasing, tempting. You’re smiling like you know you have him wrapped around your finger. Like you know he won’t say no.

But tonight, you’re wrong.

“This is the last time,” Trey says, voice low and rough.

You pause, blinking up at him. “What?”

He exhales sharply, raking a hand through his messy hair. “I can’t do this anymore. Not if you don’t want something real.”

You stare at him. And then you shift, pressing your bare leg between his, your lips ghosting over his throat, the way you always do when you don’t want to answer a question. “Trey—”

“No.” His fingers grip your waist, holding you still. “Not this time. If I’m just a game to you, tell me now, and I’ll walk away.”

You don’t speak for a long moment.

Then, finally, quietly—

“…What if I don’t want you to?”

Trey stills. His breath catches. “What?”

Your fingers tighten around his arm, holding onto him like you’re scared he’ll slip away. “What if I want more?” You swallow hard. “What if I don’t want this to be casual anymore?”

His head is spinning. His heart is pounding so loudly, he swears you can hear it. “Say it again.”

“…I want you.”

And Trey breaks.

He kisses you, deep and hungry, pressing you down into the sheets, pouring everything he’s been holding back into you. His hands map over your skin, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you, like he finally, finally has permission to love you.

Like he never wants to be casual with you ever again.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[sweetenerobert]

make you mine

8.1k | sister’s ex boyfriend tommy miller x male reader

summary: the intense feelings you've swallowed down for your sister's boyfriend are shown when he's comes back to pick up the rest of his things

warnings: MDNI 18+, mentions of abuse, pet names (bunny, baby, sweetheart, etc.), friends to lovers tommy, no mention of age besides your sister is older, and so is tommy, no description of reader, but tommy lifts you (2), rimming, oral (m!giving/m!giving) yearning for each other, spit as lube, unprotected p in a, spanking, cocky!tommy, tommy's dick is fucking HUGE AF

a/n: I'M BAAAAAACK!! UGH GOD, i missed this app so much, after countless attempts of writing, i finally have an idea im sooooo excited to share with you. i promise i wont leave again (hopefully), i have a lot of ideas i've written and i need to finally find the time to write so you guys can finally read soon, but for now, i hope you enjoy 'make you mine'!

a/n 2: also a huge thanks to @sofmoth, @king-simp, @pedgito, @perotovar, and @strang3lov3 for beta reading, love uuuuuu sooooo much.

a/n 3: just wanted to say @king-simp for putting up with me for like months and hearing my ideas days after days, and hearing me out so many times on ideas, and making them soooo much better than what I thought. Love you girlllll 🤍🤍

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Oh shit, It’s so inappropriate how bad I’ve wanted to do this to you, bunny.”

You were shocked by Tommy’s sudden confession; you raised your head at the man fingering you with beads of sweat on your forehead. “What?” You whimper. Rays of sunlight kept dancing through your eyes as you were washing the dishes, home alone, and making sure your parents didn't have something to complain about, and your sister couldn’t find the special dish she took to work. It caused that feeling of chills crawling down your spine thinking about it. Your family wasn’t intense; they just worked a lot and were under a lot of stress at times; you wish you could say the same about your sister; the times you’ve quietly excited a room from her intensity, you wouldn’t be able to count them on one hand.

Speaking of family, you heard your doorbell go off as you hung the last dish on the dish strainer, turning off the water, thinking your sister or one of your parents was coming home early and forgot their keys, you shook your hands in the sink, noticing how pruney your hands looked, grabbing a paper towel nearby, and wiping your hands, quickly throwing away the wet paper towel into the nearby garbage can. The doorbell went off again as you began walking towards the door. “I’m coming, jeez,” You start as you grab the doorknob and turn it. “Forgot your keys again?” You pull the door towards you as you expect your sister to be on the other side to answer your question.

But you had been met with a familiar sight of shoulder-length hair, a mustache that could make a grown man cry, a denim button-up shirt hanging on broad shoulders, and you swore your sister loathed the material of his shirt. Tommy Miller was on the other side of your front door. Your sister and Tommy had dated for about a year and five months. He and your sister weren’t the on-and-off type, but there were times when you could hear them arguing, and you felt terrible for Tommy for having to face your sister’s wrath. “Oh, hey, Tommy.”

“Oh, hey, bunny,” Tommy’s southern accent felt rich, and a light chuckle escaped his mouth. You chuckle as you rest your fingers against your forehead. “You know I hate that nickname,” You commented. Tommy chuckles again before he opens his mouth to speak. “It’s not my fault you're obsessed with that one character with long ears who looks like a bunny.” Tommy crossed his arms, angling his eyes towards you. “He’s a puppy,” You commented, staring at him

“I’m still calling you bunny.”

You and Tommy chuckle together as you enjoy each other’s company; a thought passes. Your sister didn’t say anything about Tommy dropping by. Now that you think of it, no one has mentioned Tommy’s name since you returned from your trip. You replicated the same action as Tommy and leaned yourself against the door. “Not to burst your bubble, my sister isn’t here,” You shrugged.

Tommy nodded, glanced at the floor, and then back at you. “Yeah, I know,” he started. “Oh,” You were shocked, to say the least. Then why was he here? “Are you guys moving in together or something?” You shrugged. “She and my parents haven’t said anything since I got back,” You added. “Your trip, that’s right,” Tommy spoke, shoving his hands into his pockets. “How was that?”

You and your best friend had decided to stay in New York for a week, the vacation the both of you desperately needed and craved. When you came back, in your eyes, it was as if nothing changed. “Fun needed a break from life,” You joked. “Felt that,” Tommy huffed a chuckle.

You smiled and nodded. “But, did something happen?” You shrugged, confused. “It’s like your name is a curse or something.”

“Ah, bunny,” Tommy rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, squinting his eyes towards you. It’s complicated; maybe you should ask your sister.” You could tell Tommy wasn’t trying to add more fire to whatever drama occurred when you were gone. Being the nonconfrontational type, you appreciated Tommy for keeping whatever secret to himself, but you already knew asking your family would be a bust. He would be the next best thing. “Can I come in?”

“Not unless you tell me what’s happening,” You shrugged. Tommy huffed a breath, not in a moment of frustration or loss of patience; it was a breath and finding the words to come up with ways to come clean about something he’s been terrified of you finding out differently. “We broke up,” Tommy announced. You blinked your eyes into a shocked look; of all the things you were trying to mentally prepare yourself to hear, him and your sister breaking up wasn’t something that you wouldn’t think would happen.

Yes, the duo wasn’t perfect together, but you always thought they would make it work. Without a thought, you moved yourself away from the door to give Tommy enough space to walk in. As he walked in, Tommy nodded and smirked at you; you felt a breeze hit your legs as he moved past you. Glancing down at your legs, you noticed you opened the door in your underwear. “Fuck me,” You muttered to yourself; you closed the front door, locking it as a habit, and walked towards where you knew Tommy was going.

You pushed your sister’s bedroom door open and spotted Tommy in your sister’s closet, getting his clothes from their hangers and placing them on her bed. “Wait, you guys broke up?” You questioned, closing her bedroom door behind you. “Yep,” Tommy nodded, looking into the closet.

“What, why, what happened?”

Tommy glanced towards you as he saw your face riddled with confusion. He drew his lips in a thin line, exhaled through his nose, and made his way towards to stand in front of you, crossing his arms, huffing his chest towards you, the material of his denim shirt bending around his biceps. “Do you know why I would often ask you to go out and drink, and I labeled you as my “drinkin’ buddy”?” Tommy questioned.

“I just thought it was you being nice, you know, making sure your girlfriend’s brother didn’t feel left out,” You shrugged.

“Not entirely,” Tommy started, sitting on the edge of his ex-girlfriend's bed. “Your sister ain’t the best type to drink with, unlike you. She can tend to overdrink, which we’ve argued about multiple times. There have been a couple of times where she’s tried to get physical with me, trying to limit her drinking habit.”

The thought of your sister being physical sent a shiver down your spine, hearing someone else say the words. You swallowed harshly and nodded your head for Tommy to continue. “A week ago, when you were out and so were your folks, I told her that we aren’t good together, and she flipped out on me, cursing at me, screaming at me, she even clawed at me.”

Shocked wouldn’t be the word expressed on your face; bewilderment would be. “What? Where?” You questioned, you asked, sitting on the left of him. Tommy used his left hand to pull his collar down to show you three scarred-up claw marks on where his left collarbone rested. “Oh, my god, Tommy. I’m sorry.’

“It ain't your fault, bunny. You ain’t do nothing,” Tommy waved off as he let go of his collar. “Exactly, I didn’t say anything, I should’ve–”

“There was nothin’ you could’ve done,” Tommy placed a hand on your back. “You’re a good person already; that’s all I wanted.” You sighed in defeat while Tommy continued to soothe you, rubbing your back. “It’s going to be weird not seeing you here.”

“Ah,” Tommy waved off, removing his hand from your back and slapping it against his jeans. “You still have my number? You can always crash at my place if you ever want to escape this house of horrors.” You chuckled at Tommy’s invitation and shook your head, contemplating the option. “I’ll hold you to that,” you pointed at the man beside you. He laughed, and you joined him. It seemed like something that fate had landed on your lap.

You felt the mattress shift lightly as Tommy leaned towards you. “You know you’re in your underwear, right, bunny?”

“Yeah, I know,” You hide your face in your hands to hide your embarrassment. “It’s fine,” Tommy slapped his hand on your bare thigh and then laced his hand with his own. For the split second, Tommy’s hand was on your thigh; his hand felt warm against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity toward your spine. “You’ve seen me in mine, so we’re even.” Tommy acknowledged, and you nodded in agreement. “Unfortunately or fortunately, I have.”

“What do you mean, unfortunately?” Tommy playfully shoves you. You laugh as you regain your balance next to him. “I mean, not to make you uncomfortable, but you do have an amazing body,” Your chuckles slip out from time to time.

“Amazin’ body, huh?” Tommy teased, leaning his head towards yours. “With your sister’s scratches, It’ll take a while before I’m back to “amazing body” status.”

“Hey, scratches or not, you still look good,” You commented.

“Oh, really?” Tommy questioned, playfully pushing his shoulder with yours. “Yeah,” You nodded.

“You ain’t so bad yourself,” Tommy spoke, placing his hand on your thigh again, but this time, he didn’t let go; the warmth of his hand had been caked onto your skin. You balled your hand into a fist behind Tommy. The feeling felt nice, but it felt different from the cold breeze that kept rubbing against your other leg. “Is this alright?” Tommy asked. Looking up towards the southern man, you nodded your head, and Tommy’s hand rose.

You shuddered lightly as Tommy’s hand got closer to your cock, his thumb pressing onto the tip of your cock, making your toes curl. “You like that?” Tommy softly spoke into your ear. “Mhm, yeah,” You nodded. “How about this?” Tommy slipped his hand further as he began cupping the bulge in your underwear. You inhaled deeply, puffing your chest, and your hands gripped the sheets of your sister’s bed. Pushing out an exhale, Tommy chuckled as he saw your cock throbbing underneath his hand. “Look at you, bunny, twitchin’ under my hand,”

“We–.” You swallowed sharply. “We– we shouldn’t–”

“We shouldn’t be doin’ this?” Tommy questioned; his hand started to come off your cock before you began to speak. “We shouldn’t be doing this in my sister’s room,” You nodded, looking at him. Tommy huffed a smile as he took you and made you straddle his lap; you laughed as you placed your hand on the side of his neck, his forehead rested against yours; you could see the smile radiating off him, something you seemed to have only seen when he’s around you.

Tommy’s hands rested on your waist before he slipped them onto your ass and then rested under your thighs. “Is it inappropriate to say that I’ve probably dreamt of this moment before?”

You smile before you answer. “That you wanted be close to your sister’s brother?”

Tommy huffs a smile before pressing his nose lightly against yours. “That I would be happy with someone like you.” Your hands trail up against his cheeks, your thumbs trailing his cheeks as he smiles at you. “You have such cute freckles.”

Tommy laughs at your compliment. “No, seriously, they suit you a little too well,” You smile as Tommy dips his head below, his lips centimeters away from yours. Almost as if he were playing with you, backing his head up ever so slightly just to put them back centimeters away. “You are such a cat,” You announce.

“Oh, you love it.” Tommy stood up, and your legs stopped bending into the mattress and just rested against the sides of his hips while his hands rested in the bends of your knees; you smiled and rested your arms onto his shoulders; it wasn’t until Tommy collided your back with your sister’s bedroom door was when he connected his lips against yours. Tommy didn’t hold back when he kissed you, his hands digging into the skin of your thighs as one of your hands rested on the nape of his neck. You felt his tongue connected with yours, making the kiss feel more passionate. His lips felt soft while his mustache on your upper lip felt coarse, the opposite sensations putting your body into overdrive. You knew in this very moment that this is something you’ve wanted to happen for so long, the number of drunk thoughts you would have about Tommy turning sexually, that you wanted something to happen with your drunk friend like it had been a scene from your favorite fanfiction or something, but you knew it was wrong because of your sister.

But you didn’t care about how she felt then; you wanted Tommy, you have Tommy, now you don’t want him to go away. “Fuck, you taste good, bunny,” Tommy breathed as he grinded his pelvis into yours; you moaned into Tommy’s mouth, while he grunted into yours. “I can’t get enough of you,” Tommy grunted. One of his hands slipped from the bend of your knee, reaching for the doorknob, backing your body away from the door, opening it, and walking towards your bedroom. Still kissing each other, Tommy readjusted his hand back and continued to walk towards your room.

Pushing the door open with your back, Tommy rushed into your room and placed you on the edge of your dresser. You gasped when one of Tommy’s hands slipped onto your waist, and the other slipped under your shirt. His soft but calloused hand was warm against your stomach as he latched his lips onto yours. Your hands reached to cup his face as you leaned down to deepen the kiss.

Kissing Tommy felt like the sensation of finding gold for the first time, exciting. A sensation you didn’t want to let go of when your hands slipped into his hair, and you lightly gripped his hair. You understood that Tommy felt the same way when the grip on your waist and your bare stomach grew tighter. With each smooch, Tommy breathed heavily against your lips, feeling the texture of your soft lips against his; he never felt more present in the moment.

Slipping your hands onto his broad shoulders, you were eager to feel more of Tommy. You slip your hands down even more and feel down his chest; his pec feels like a handful against your hand. Tommy chuckles and smiles against your lips. “Eager, ain’t we?” The southern questions. “Shut up,” You smiled as you raised your hands on the buttons of his shirt.

You or he didn't break the kiss with each button you popped off Tommy’s shirt, not even when Tommy tossed the denim shirt aside. He just wanted to keep on tasting you.

It took a lot to be the one to break the kiss after what felt like minutes of your lips dancing around each other. Tommy’s hand moved from your stomach to the sides of your thighs. “Somethin’ wrong, bunny?”

“No, I’ve just wanted this moment for so long, is that fucked up?”

Tommy shook his head and rested your forehead against his as you bent your head down and took your hands in his. “A little,” Tommy started. You groaned into your hands, and then Tommy caused you to look at him while he took your hand in his. “But, that’s what I like about you,”

“You're funny, spontaneous as hell, and sweet, geez, I couldn’t have met someone better than you, bunny,” Tommy reached for your cheek, cupping your face into his palm, rubbing your cheek. You smile as you go for Tommy’s hand, rubbing your thumb against his knuckle. “Do you think we could move to the bed?” You questioned. A raised eyebrow came from Tommy Miller's face; he chuckled before licking his lips. “Eager, are we, bunny?”

“Yes, but my butt is getting so sore, sitting on the edge of this thing,” You winced and laughed before Tommy took his hands and put them back on your waist. “But I haven’t even done anythin’, baby.” You give a look, Tommy, and the man chuckled while you wrapped your legs around his waist again, and he rested your back against your mattress, kissing you once again while crawling in between your thighs.

You felt Tommy grind his hips into yours, feeling his bulge underneath the denim against your cloth-covered cock. Tommy’s lips trailed down from your lips down to your jaw. With every time Tommy grinded into you, a moan escaped your lips, and you could feel a smile from Tommy against the tender skin of your neck.

Sliding your shirt up and planting kisses trailing from your chest to your navel. Tommy’s thick fingers grab the waistband of your underwear as he slides them down. “Lift your hips, bunny.” You do as Tommy orders; he slides your underwear off your thighs and disregards them aside, looking down between your bodies and chuckling at the sight he was seeing your hard cock twitch against the bulge in his jeans. Tommy wanted to see something, so he slowly grinded your bare cock, and you lightly squirmed at the sensation. Hearing you shudder, Tommy smirks at you and lightly picks up the pace.

“Fuck, baby, you like that?”

“Yeah,” You nodded.

“Fuck yeah, I love it when you squirm for me.”

As Tommy begins to stand up, you breathe in relief as if any more times he were to grind against your cock, you would’ve exploded. Tommy pulls you towards the edge of the mattress, and you are surprised at the sudden action. “Look a’that, y’hard f’me already, baby?” You huff a chuckle at Tommy; you gasp as you feel his lips press the tip of your hard-covered cock. With each kiss brought against the tip and the shaft of your cock, it feels like heaven to you, bringing you absolute bliss against your skin. You get your foot against Tommy’s bare shoulder as your other one hangs off the edge of the bed, arching your back in pleasure as Tommy’s mouth moves down your thigh.

“God, you’re s’fuckin’ perfect, baby.” Standing up from his position, Tommy softly presses his lips against yours, bringing his hand into the bend of your knee, his other hand holding the side of your face. Tommy's tongue licked your bottom lip, awaiting your mouth to open. Tommy slips his tongue into your mouth, slightly parting your lips, causing you to smile at Tommy’s eagerness.

“How do you feel?” Tommy questions against your lips.

“Good, so good.” You breathed. “How about I make you feel even fuckin’ great.” Tommy’s question came out as a statement, causing you to question his meaning. Without warning, Tommy backs up from your face and laps his tongue on the all too sensitive head of your cock, making a moan escape from your mouth, your toes curl, and your eyes roll in the back of your head, sliding his tongue against the slit of your cock, moans escaping your mouth. “F-fuck, Tommy,” You breathe.

“Y’like that, baby?”

You breathe out an answer as Tommy starts to slowly stroke your cock as he rests himself on one knee on the ground next to the bed frame. “Yes, so fucking much.” You arch your back as the pleasure sets in. You never knew this level of intensity until Tommy; he knew what would make you tick without even having any sexual experience with you in the past, everything you imagined about what the southern would do to you if things had gone a complete 180 after your hangouts, but now the reality is kicking your imagination out of the park.

Wrapping his mouth slowly around the tip of your cock, Tommy slowly goes down the shaft of your length, causing you to moan and white knuckle your sheets as you throw your head back — arching your back and snapping your eyes shut in pleasure. “OH, fuck!” You exclaim in pleasure. His pace was slow but patient. Tommy wanted to make you feel something you rarely experienced — something once in a blue moon. Wrapping his hands around the shaft of your cock, his fingers would let go for a moment before wrapping.

Dragging your fingers into Tommy’s curls, you slowly push his head down, hoping he could speed up. “Fuck, Tommy. This feels amazing,” You breathed.

“Can you go faster, please?” Your question sounded like a plea.

“Oh, sweetheart. I can show ya one better.”

As Tommy’s mouth felt warm around your cock, he started to go faster as you gasped in pleasure, you gripping the material of your sheets; you felt Tommy’s hand slide from your thigh as he slowly began to tease your hole. The skin of your taint felt sensitive with each stroke of Tommy’s finger teasing you; each swipe, each light poke, and prodding made your body shiver in anticipation. You had been put into overdrive because of your older sister’s ex-boyfriend. Tommy was slowly rising you towards your peak. Your cock twitches in Tommy’s mouth showing the throbbing pain that was threatening to shoot out. Slowly and teasing, Tommy slides his mouth off your cock, swallowing the spit that had collected in his mouth; Tommy wipes the reminder off his lips with the back of his hand, glances at you, and chuckles as he strokes your cock. “Y’close, baby?”

“Yes,” You whimper. “So fuckin’ close. It hurts so much. Can I cum yet, Tommy?”

A sly smirk appeared as he started to chuckle – staring at you. Tommy stops pumping your cock — landing on your stomach, precum leaking from the slit. “Not yet, bunny. We ain’t done yet.”

Lifting your legs, Tommy slides his head down deeper in between your thighs. He laps his tongue against your aching hole; you bite your lip, causing a shaky moan to escape your lips as you hold your legs up so Tommy can get better access to your hole. His hands are planted on your inner thighs as he keeps his tongue against your taint. Tommy’s tongue felt like magic against you, showing you things you’ve never felt before — things you’ve only imagined happening. His tongue sliding up and down, in and out of your hole, made you want to cum by how much Tommy has been treating you.

The sensation of soft lips and a coarse mustache planting kisses against your taint made your toes curl — the bones threatening to pop out, your nails digging into the skin of your thighs, your moans escaping from you with each movement of the mix of feelings from Tommy’s lips and tongue was giving you pleasure.

A new feeling appeared when you felt something being pushed inside you, causing a moan to rush out of you as you let go of one of your thighs, started gripping the sheets below you, and threatened to rip them up. You look down at Tommy, plump cheeks looking up at you with a smirk on his face; you notice what is being pushed inside you; Tommy’s thick middle finger has taken a turn to please you.

“Y’like that, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Oh fuck, yeah, I do,” You whimper, throwing your head back, closing your eyes, and moaning with each pump of Tommy’s finger.

“I said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Tommy spoke as he slid another finger into you. You exclaimed in pleasure. “You make me happy, bunny. You always have been the one to make me.” The man huffed a smile towards you, and you reciprocated a smile back towards Tommy before you rested your head on the mattress. “Fuck, my sister is so fucking stupid for letting you go,” You breathed as you withered in pleasure. Tommy chuckled at your statement. “Good thing I finally have the better sibling,” Tommy grunted. You laughed, and then the laugh turned into a moan.

Sliding a third finger in, Tommy’s pace had gone faster. You knew he was trying to test your limits; it would be an adventure for both of you to find it. “Look at how your hole wraps around m’fingers; it keeps sucking me in no matter how hard I try to pull out, baby.”

The sudden movements from your hips as you kept raising your hips and bringing them back down. Gritting your teeth, and tiny whimpers leaking through your teeth. Pleasure flowed throughout your body — something you yearned for Tommy to reach with you.

Tommy would admit this if you asked, and close to you sent him over the moon. He’s probably thought about this once or twice, but he loves that he can finally get this close to you.

“Tommy?” You breathed.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can I suck your cock?”

Tommy had never heard that question from your sister; she always wanted things her way, so Tommy hasn’t been pleased in that regard. So, hearing your question surprised him a little bit. Slipping his fingers outside your hole, aching for how you would feel around his cock, Tommy smirks at you, stands up, and opens his mouth to speak. “Yes, you can, bunny.” As you sit up and sit on the edge of your mattress, you notice the length that resided in his jeans. You blinked as you saw the bulge filling his jeans.

Noticing the look in your eyes as he was cupping the growing length in his jeans as he smirked and smiled at you, Tommy looked at you. “I gotta ask, sweetheart, how long have you been wantin'’’ to suck my cock?” You swallowed before you provided an answer. “For so long,” You glanced at Tommy.

Tommy's sly smirk appeared before he bent his head down to get closer to your ear. “Then I best not keep you waitin’.” His whisper sends chills down your spine. Sliding your back against the mattress, you slid so your knees hit the wood below you. Watching the eagerness flood Tommy’s eyes made you feel butterflies in your stomach. Tommy slipped his belt off, throwing it on the ground next to him, releasing the button of his jeans popped above you, and hearing the zipper going down, you watched as Tommy’s cock popped out from its restraints.

You stared in awe at the sheer size of Tommy’s dick. Tommy’s throbbing cock bounced in front of you, precum leaking from the slit of his cock. This was better than you can ever imagine. Veins traveled up the shaft of his cock, stopping at the mushroom tip of his cock. The happy trail from Tommy’s tummy showed up his pubic hair that rested above the shaft of his cock. Your mouth went dry in anticipation. It was the first time you had ever seen a dick this big and thick before and so close to your face.

“Fuck, bunny. I need to feel you,” Tommy groaned.

“Well, best not keep you waitin’ now, can we?” You quoted, dragging Tommy’s jeans down as your knuckles brushed up against the hair on his legs, gravity stopping Tommy’s jeans when they stopped at his ankles, your hand wraps the shaft of his cock. You slowly wrap your lips around the tip of Tommy’s cock, and you hear him exhale in pleasure – a sound you yearned to hear in the past.

Slowly pushing your head down the shaft of Tommy’s cock, lips wrapped tight – spit dripping down your chin; you feel the veins trace the skin of your lips as the head of Tommy’s cock presses into the back of your throat. A groan of pleasure escapes Tommy’s lips as you back your head up. You push your head forward and back leisurely, and you can tell the pace makes Tommy not see straight. His member in your mouth kept throbbing against the roof of your mouth. Suddenly, your pace went a little faster; you looked up and noticed Tommy was bearing his teeth, his hands gripping the back of your head, his hips having a mind of their own as he was obsessed with your mouth around his cock. The warmth of your mouth sent him into his version of heaven, and with each pump into your mouth, he couldn’t get enough of you.

The taste of salt fell upon your tongue as you backed your head up from Tommy’s cock. A line of spit mixed with precum connecting from your mouth to the tip of Tommy’s cock was made apparent as well as the tip of his cock reddened; eventually, the line of spit dropped onto the ground below you as you wrapped your hand around Tommy’s cock and started pumping his shaft, as the man dropped his hands to his sides. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, baby,” Tommy released shaky breaths as he apologized.

You quickly swallowed the spit in your mouth. “It’s okay,” You breathed.

The moans escaping Tommy's lips had been a symphony to you. As your moans were to Tommy. “Fuck, baby. Y’so good at that. I’m so glad it's you doin’ this to me.” His southern drawl causes somersaults in your stomach. Sliding your mouth back onto Tommy’s cock, a deep guttural growl escaped his lips as your lips were at a quick pace, your hands planted on Tommy’s thighs, the hair on his thighs pressed up against your hand as the tip of Tommy’s cock kept hitting the back of your throat. Moans, grunts, whines, and whimpers were all escaping from Tommy’s lips, his hands holding onto your head as his hips humped into your head, his cock pressing deeper – causing you to gag a couple of times. Your nose kept poking into where Tommy’s pubic hair rested; the scent was intoxicating, causing your cock to leak with precum below you.

Suddenly, Tommy held your head – bearing his teeth in pleasure; your throat grasping around his cock, causing you to gag more. Slobber escaping your mouth as with each inhale through your nose – resting on Tommy’s hairy patch made it impossible to exhale without gagging. Your palms were getting sweaty against Tommy’s thighs, the hair on his legs feeling nonexistent against your slippery hands.

His hands slide your head back; lines of spit connect from his cock to your top and bottom lips. Deep inhales and exhales leave your body as you watch Tommy slightly shudder. His cock glistened in your spit, throbbing and visibly reddened. Sweat littered Tommy's shaven chest and forehead; you swallowed the spit in the back of your throat from your excessive breathing. Tommy bent down, grabbed your chin, and kissed you passionately. Your forehead felt heavy with sweat as Tommy backed up from you; he slid his hand up, pushing the strands of hair that littered his forehead. “Fuck, sorry, baby. Y’mouth is so fuckin’ addictin’.”

Tommy, We’re just getting started,” You spoke, disregarding his apology. Quickly eager to show him what you meant, you pick up his cock and slide your tongue on the underside of Tommy’s shaft. Lapping your tongue against his veins, you could hear Tommy’s praise from above. “I wish I had met you first,” Tommy groaned as he slipped his fingers through his hair.

Bringing your tongue slowly down to make Tommy squirm, you feel his body a little bit as you are still holding his cock in your hand; you place your mouth around his ball sack and lightly suck on one of them. “OH, SHIT!” Tommy groaned. Tommy’s body shook, almost falling like a sandcastle; Tommy hadn’t felt this level of pleasure before, from anyone in his past, before meeting you. “You like that, Tommy?” You asked. “Yes,” Tommy gritted his teeth. “Fuck, I love it s’much.” Backing your mouth up, you stroke Tommy’s cock and watch him hold his head back, and moans escape his lips. Bending down, Tommy places his hands between the fold of your armpits and picks you up from your knees.

Planting his lips against yours, the kiss you shared between the two of you felt hungry, Lips mashing against each other, teeth clashing against each other. Tommy’s arms hold you tightly against his torso. Tommy was fucking yearning for you as his lips were latching against your cheeks, jawline, against the skin of your neck. That feeling of Tommy’s teeth against your neck made you know Tommy was marking you as his. Your nails drag against Tommy’s lengthy hair as you enjoy Tommy’s mouth, bringing his head back against your lips. Sweat forming on Tommy’s bare chest was seeping through your shirt. You wanted to take it off to feel Tommy’s skin against yours. Backing your head away from Tommy’s, his head following suit as he watches you attempt to take your shirt off.

Tommy couldn’t wait to get the shirt off and over your head. Wrapping your arms around Tommy’s neck, he wraps his arms against your lower back. The warmth of each other’s bodies radiated against each other. Your cocks rubbed against each other; the warmth you both shared was hot enough to blow the roof off your bedroom. This experience felt surreal, like a dream you didn’t want to wake up from.

Backing his head away from your lips, you notice a look of wanting in Tommy’s eyes, which start to darken as he opens his mouth to speak. “Fuck, I gotta have you now, bunny,” Tommy admitted.

“Get on that fuckin’ bed,” Tommy nodded toward the mattress. You listened to Tommy, letting your arms go from around his neck; you crawled on the bed, right where your pillow was rested, on your chin; as you rested on your stomach, you heard Tommy crawling behind you, readjusting you to have you on your knees – spread apart and your back arched. A line of spit leaves Tommy’s mouth and connects to the tip of his cock, rubbing the spit to lube up his cock. Slowly leaning behind you, Tommy moves his hand from the tip to his shaft as he starts to tease you – making you shudder in anticipation.

Moving his cock to poke your hole makes you yearn for him every slight push into you. Tommy begins to question you. “How bad you want my cock, baby?”

“Badly,” You admit.

Tommy leans up behind you, and you can feel his breath against your ear; as you feel the shaft of his cock fit into the curves of your ass, his hips begin to slightly shift up and down, teasing you, causing your hole to ache. “Just how badly?” Tommy questioned. “So fuckin’ bad, I need you, Tommy.” You hear him chuckle against your ear as he whispers in your ear. “Well then, best not keep you waiting.” Tommy backed up from your ear, and with one of his hands, he angled his cock to press against your hole.

Tommy slowly pushes in; you feel the tip stretch you out and his hands on your hips. You stifle your moans into the pillow below. “Does it hurt, baby?” You shake your head, denying Tommy’s question. His shaft is halfway in before he pulls out fast, his grip let loose on your waist. You gasp before breathing heavily. “Oh shit. Sorry, baby, gimmie a minute,” Tommy commented. Once again, Tommy slides his cock into you, hands back onto your waist, making your moans have no level of intensity as prior lovers. Halfway in, Tommy rocks his hips back and forth slowly into you, hoping you can adjust to his size. Your eyes snapped shut intensely, straining your eyelids. The pain was starting to feel good, too good.

“Is this okay, baby?” Opening your eyes, you crane your neck to notice the concern in Tommy’s eyes. He looked so careful, protective, and sweet; you’ve always liked this side of him. “Yes, Tommy. It’s okay,” You smile. Leaning down to kiss you, Tommy’s hips still rocking into your hole, moans exiting your mouth and entering Tommy’s. Feeling him slowly stretch you out felt indescribable; it felt good, but you did want Tommy to go faster. “Tommy,” You moan against Tommy's mouth. “Yes, baby?”

Tommy backs up to hear you properly. But before Tommy could say anything, it was as if a switch went off inside his head, as his hands were molding into your waist. His pace was faster and rougher. Claps rang throughout the room with each thrust as you angled your hands to reach behind and reach for Tommy’s bicep while Tommy was drilling his cock inside you. His bicep felt huge compared to your hand. It felt like Tommy could read your mind, knowing that you wanted more and that he would give it to you. “Fuck, I could do this all day, bunny. This feels so amazing,” Tommy breathed; the man looked at you and moved closer to you so the curve of your back could fit together with his tummy, his hands placed on either side of your head while his lips latched onto yours as his cock continued to pump inside you. With each pump, you moaned against Tommy’s mouth, and he smiled against your lips.

“Y’wanna know how bad I’ve wanted to do this?” Tommy breathed.

“How much?” You asked through gritted teeth.

“Every time we went drinking,” Tommy grunted. “Every single time we got too close to each other, whenever you would rest your head on my shoulder.”

“God, I must’ve asked for this countless times, goddamn prayed for it,” Tommy gritted while holding your chin, causing you to look at him again as he slowly started pumping his cock; he was slowly humping in and just staring at you in your eyes. “Now I finally got what I want, you,” Tommy announced as he slid his cock out of you and laid down next to you; his cock was still hard, but Tommy wanted more of you. You adjusted yourself on your side, and Tommy started holding the bend of your knee; Tommy adjusted his cock to press against the hole of your taint, causing you to shudder and chuckle when you craned your head over your shoulder and saw Tommy’s cheeky grin. You feel Tommy’s cock slide inside your hole; as you placed your head on the pillow, you felt his stomach against your back again; that feeling of closeness with someone you never thought you could have made your cock throb.

Tommy’s arm had wrapped around your head. As you picked it up and rested on his forearm, you could hear the grunts and groans leaving Tommy’s lips and feel his breath on your ear.

“Y’wanted this, didn’t ya?” Tommy grunted.

“Fuck, yeah, Tommy,” You writhing in pleasure, “Wanted this for so long.”

“I’can say the same about this boy pussy of yours, grippin’ onto me so tight, it doesn’t want to let go, and I don’t think I want it to.” You bring your hands to Tommy’s head and plant your lips against his. An exhale leaves Tommy’s mouth against yours. This may sound like a diss to your sister, but seeing this side of Tommy made you wonder if she ever made Tommy this pleased. “I gotta ask,” You breathed. “My sister never made you this happy, right?”

“Your sister,” Tommy grunted. “Never wanted to do the things you asked for; always wanted things her way.” Tommy’s cock kept hitting your G-spot; you moaned in pleasure as your hand craned onto the back of his head. “And with you, I know what we both like,” Tommy pumped his cock forcefully, causing you to meet him at the base of his cock. “So I’m gonna fuck you so hard till we both get what we want.” Tommy’s cock pumped inside your forcefully again, and you felt your walls slowly adjust to the size of his cock.

Tommy’s length was stretching you out as his cock kept pumping into you, causing moans to escape through your mouth. The sun's rays glistened on both your skin and Tommy’s as sweat littered on the both of you. Tommy bore his teeth and started to fuck you senselessly. Wrapping his forearm in the front of your neck and his other arm deeper in the bend of your knee, – his hands interlocking with each other. You moan in pleasure as you hear low growls escape Tommy Miller – feeling his breath against your ear causes shivers to crawl down your spine. “Fuck, you feel my cock stretchin’ you out, baby?”

“Mhmm,” You nodded, shutting your eyes, avoiding his glare.

“Hey,” Tommy’s voice made you snap your eyes open to look at him. “I need a clear answer,” His teeth gritted. “No more of that ‘Mhmm’ shit.” His pace began to slow down a bit.

You couldn’t tell if you were turned on or scared by his dominance, but you could feel your cock throb once again, so you had your answer. “Yes, I feel your cock.”

The man behind you grins, “Well, you better get used to it. This boy pussy is mine; nobody elses; I don’t give a shit what your sister says or your folks. You’re mine now, understand?”

You were about to nod your head until you answered. “Yes, I’m yours.”

“Envision this,” Tommy’s hold was still the same, with his hands still interlocked, but his gaze wasn’t on you anymore. It had been at the door he carried you in moments prior. “Your folks walk in, and they see this; your sis sees us together, but I don’t give a rat's ass, and I just keep going,” One deep thrust caused you to groan. “I just keep filling your hole with my cock, because I don’t care anymore because you – deep thrust – are – deep thrust – mine!” In the last thrust, Tommy released his hold on you, and you moaned into your pillow.

As your face was in your pillow, you felt Tommy’s hand smack your ass. “C’mon, bunny. We ain’t done. You chuckled as you picked your face up from your pillow; you saw Tommy adjust himself in the middle of your bed – his head is where your feet should be, and his cock was throbbing and leaking with pre-cum. “What do ya say, bunny?” Tommy patted his thigh. “You gonna take this stallion for a ride?”

Playfully biting your lip at Tommy’s question, you playfully crawl towards him and straddle his lap. You feel the tip of his cock on your ass cheek, so you maneuver the shaft of his cock to sit in the curve of your ass; you begin to grind your ass back as if you were trying to tease Tommy. “I kinda just had a funny thought.”

You hear a light chuckle from the man under you – his hands on your waist – moving you back and forth against the shaft of his cock – your hands on his chest, “What is it?” Tommy smirks. “I can always tell my mom I’m going to be at a friend's house when in reality,” You bow your head closer to his. “I’m actually having the time of my life at Tommy Miller’s place. Do you like that idea?’

“Oh, I love that idea,” Tommy growled, his hands slapping your ass. “Oh really, you do?”

“I’m fucking obsessed with it, baby.” Tommy’s lips latched onto yours, you placed your hands on each side of his face, and you started grinding your hips against the shaft of his cock again. “Oh, fuck, baby,” Tommy’s southern drawl was moaned against your mouth, “You’re gettin’ me all hot and bothered, making me feel things I never thought I would ever feel.”

“Huh, really?” You asked cocky.

“Mhm.” Tommy smooched against your lips.

“How about I give you another one,” You say as you adjust the tip of Tommy’s cock to press up against your hole. Sliding yourself down onto his cock, the both of you groan into pleasure as you place your hand back onto his chest. You started to breathe heavily as you tried to readjust to Tommy’s length. “Hey, hey, you got this. Deep breaths,” He reassured.

When you met the base of his cock, a howl escaped Tommy’s lips. “Would ya’ look at that? Fits just like a glove, huh?” His hands spank your ass again. “What was that you said about feelin’ another feeling?” You watched as Tommy bore his teeth and started to fuck you senselessly. Wrapping his hand tight on your waist. You ball your hands into fists on Tommy’s pecs – your knuckles begin to get sweaty. “You like this, don’t ya, baby?”

“Fuck, yeah,” You nodded.

“You want my cum to swim inside you – gettin’ you pregnant?”

“Fuck, Tommy, I need you now.”

His hands went up the small of your back – your face leaning feet away from his. “Imma give you what you, baby. Don’t you worry,” Tommy reassured.

That feeling of being stretched out came back as you rested your forehead on Tommy’s. His hands are on your upper back, holding you in position; each push of his length made your moans push out of you more. It was like your body was in heat — Tommy’s warmth.

He was so different from the respectable man you met; he had become someone different because of you, and you loved every minute. “I’m so close to cummin’ inside you, baby. Fuck, you feel my cock throbbin’ inside you?”

If you were lying, the feeling of each throb that was coming from Tommy’s cock, caused you to feel like you were about to cum. “Tommy, I’m so close. Keep going,” You begged.

“Fuck,” Tommy growled. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect.” His pace was going faster, and it felt the tip of your cock felt like it was going to explode with your cum. “Fuck, Tommy. I’m gonna cum.”

“Fuck, bunny. Me too.’

“Here it comes,” Tommy gritted his teeth.

With one final push, you see your cum shoot out onto Tommy’s chest, and you also feel Tommy’s cum swim inside you – you see the man slightly shudder as strings of cum shoot inside you. Light breaths are escaping both of you as you lightly pat Tommy’s chest. You slowly start to slide off his cock; you feel his warm cum slide out from your hole. A sigh of relief exits your mouth, and you rest your body next to Tommy’s – your head on his shoulder. The both of you breathing heavily as you were both exhausted, the adrenaline wearing off, his soft cock against his stomach as you see his chest dip and rise from the breaths he’s taking.

“On a scale from one to ten, how would you rate–” You start, but then you get cut off by Tommy.

“A fuckin’ twelve – shit, an a million.”

You chuckle against Tommy’s shoulder and place your hand on his chest, right over his heart – you feel it racing. “An a million?” You smile.

“A million,” Tommy repeated, looking at you and placing his hand over yours. Both of you smile as you look into each other’s eyes; you slightly shake your head and lick your lips, which Tommy notices. “What?’

“My sister is so fucking stupid; the fact that she couldn’t treat you right means she’s fuckin’ brain dead.” Tommy couldn’t help but chuckle as he heard what you said about your sister. “I”m serious, your caring, sweet, protective, and you know how to fuck, like a beast.”

“Oh, I know how to fuck, huh?”

“What would you call what we just did? Dancing?” You joke. Tommy always did love your nonchalant attitude. “That was makin’ love, baby. Pure and sweet love makin’ with the guy I love most.” Tommy smiled and planted his lips on your forehead, backing up and looking into your eyes again.

“Now, I don’t want to be a party pooper–”

“Then don’t, baby,” Tommy moved the arm you were resting on and held you tighter in a cuddle. “Let’s just enjoy our moment together.”

“You need to get the rest of your things out of my sister’s room, and I need to shower; quite frankly, we need a shower.”

“Why is that, bunny?”

You adjust to rest your head on his chest, his arm still holding you. “So I can tell my mom, dad, and sister that I’ll be at a friend’s house when, in reality, I’m at your place,” you smile.

Tommy’s face went into a frown as he was thinking. “Well, in that case, I’ll meet you in the shower?”

“I will try to meet you in the shower; my legs are killing me.”

“Okay,” Tommy quickly let you go and got out of your bed faster than he would if he were in lava. You couldn’t help but laugh as you saw him leave your bedroom and move towards the bathroom. You smiled and exhaled when you realized you finally got what you wanted.

[wisteria-lodge]

What do you think of Bellatrix? Would you have liked to explore more dynamics about her?

I *love* unpacking sibling dynamics and toxic relationships, so of course I find Bellatrix fascinating. (Also "Bellatrix Lestrange" might be my favorite name in a series full of very good names. 10/10.)

To me, what's key about Bellatrix is that she's the oldest of the three Black sisters. She could have been written as the indulged, attention-seeking bratty baby... but that would be a less interesting character.

Growing up, I think Narcissa was probably the quiet, passive child. That's her strategy when Voldemort shows up and she's once again living with a powerful, unstable authority figure. (I mean we have no info about what Cygnus Black was like, but he's Walburga Black's younger brother, and I imagine they probably enforced each other's extremism and intensity after their brother got blasted off the tapestry.) Narcissa's strategy is fade to the background, don't react, don't let them see what you're thinking, let them ignore you.

(I also think it's very believable that she went subtly went low contact with the Blacks after she married Lucius. The Malfoys have *always* been much more squeamish about violence, and much more politically moderate. I think Narcissa likes that.)

Andromeda you can take in a couple of different directions, but she was probably the problem child/scapegoat. And if she wasn't before she married Ted, she DEFINITELY was after. She also looks so much like Bellatrix that Harry does a double take, which I think... would have really bugged Bellatrix growing up, and informed their dynamic. Bellatrix sees herself as SO exceptional that she wouldn't want to be compared to anyone... but if she were, then it would be important that any casual comparisons come out in HER favor. (Which can't have been fun for Andromeda.) It's interesting that Voldemort underlines the connection between the two sisters as a way to get under Bellatrix's skin, and it works *really* well. She's got a competitive streak.

Because Bellatrix would have 100% grown up the *Golden Child.* Powerful, driven, beautiful in a striking way. The Daddy's Girl energy is off the charts (and she was probably Aunt Walburga's favorite too.) Bellatrix is described as acting like a queen, which is exactly how she sees herself. She grew up in an echo chamber not only telling her that people like her were special and better... but that she was the most Special one within the Special group.

So she meets Lord Voldemort. He's beautiful, driven, brilliant, power levels off the charts. He's Grindelwald born again (but straight) (probably.) He's not just the Dark Lord, he's a King. He wants to rule the world as an immortal god-king. He tells Bellatrix that this is going to happen, and she believes him.

And like - of course she's into that. But also, seeing yourself as a temporarily embarrassed Immortal Goddess Empress requires such a specific self-concept. You are going to need a delusionally high opinion of yourself... but also enough talent/power/beauty/external validation to carry that idea into adulthood.

(also Rodolphus... he doesn't count. Good Marriage was just another box to check as a young woman so Bellatrix could remain Perfect. The rules are different if you're a Immortal Goddess Empress anyway. Any consort she had would be so far below her own power level, or the power level of her King, that he literally would not matter. But she's not going to have a *kid* with Rodolphus. She's Voldemort's favorite, Rodolphus is not good enough. You sire PRINCES with the KING.)

Voldemort of course would know all this. And we see him have so much fun finding ways to creatively torture Lucius. He's a sadist in general sure, but there's something specifically about bringing pureblood royalty low that he gets REALLY into. He *likes* bringing up the werewolf nephew-in-law and and watching Bellatrix scramble desperately for ground, crying, while the rest of the Death Eaters point and laugh. Until he tells them to cut it out, because he's the only one with enough power to do that.

And then Bellatrix goes back to her room and probably constructs a whole narrative about how that was actually Voldemort protecting her, because she's the most Special, and it's all in good fun really. Because the alternative is having to admit that she's not extraordinary, she's just a punching bag (like Lucius Malfoy.) This is where a lot of her anger and instability come from. Every time she's in a situation where someone else is doing something *more* or *better* ... she lashes out.

In the main timeline of the books this mainly shows up in her dynamic with Narcissa. Bellatrix tries to give orders in Malfoy Manor (I am sure it really annoys her that Voldemort is using her sisters house as his HQ. That isn't how it's supposed to go.) Narcissa is sacrificing Draco for the Dark Lord? Well, Bellatrix would have five sons (hypothetically) and sacrifice them all (happily.) She tries to shift the blame for Department of Mysteries thing 100% onto Lucius, and gets really defensive when Snape implies that he has more emotional intimacy with Voldemort than she does.

But she's still really, really useful, and Voldemort knows this. She is talented, and powerful, and his best enforcer. So he would have so much fun dangling that carrot just out of reach, forever. The prophecy makes such a big deal about Voldemort marking Harry "as his equal," because that's just not a thing he does. BELLATRIX certainly isn't his equal.

(dumbledore though... we can maybe revisit.)

[poppitron360]

@cometmoons so for some reason tumblr has glitched and isn’t letting me respond to the ask you sent me so I’m just gonna do it like this.

OK OK OK OK OK OK SO-

There is SO MUCH to talk about with Wouldn’t You Like. I feel like it’s hard to describe on a written post so I took the liberty of downloading a music notation app and transcribing the bits I wanted to talk about (This took me aaaages. But it was a really fun process and taught me a lot.)

Be warned this is a LONG post.

Firstly, here’s my overall take on the narrative of this song:

Odysseus is one of the smartest heroes of Greek Myth. He’s a mentee of Athena. He’s tactical. Yes, he is a fighter, but he’s for the most part a strategist and he uses diplomacy and cunning and his words to defeat his foes. Big Slytherin energy. Up until this point, that’s all he’s ever used. Eurylochus has doubted and challenged this approach, and has now come to him, saying that Circe is too powerful to defeat and that they should just run away. Odysseus “Pride is my fatal flaw” of Ithaca is insisting on fighting Circe, but is realising that he might not be able to talk his way out of it.

Hermes has now shown up like ��hey ✨dAhLiNg✨how about you try something different? DRUGS!”, offering him a taste of something he’s never had before… power.

This, in my opinion, is a big step in Odysseus’ fall from man into monster, and Jay uses music in so many different ways to convey that, so let’s start with a break down of the song one section at a time:

Intro:

For most of the song, you’ve got the Lyre/Harp playing- Hemes’ signature instrument, which is significant to him because according to myth he invented the Lyre. This is the first thing we hear in the song, immediately setting up the things you need to identify his character.

Harps and Lyres are typically used in film and videogame music to give a mystical, magical atmosphere. I love how Jay blends modern (1980s) Synthpop with more classical, eclectic instruments that don’t normally fit the style. I’m assuming for budgeting reasons he’s using a VST or some kind of sample pack and not a real harp (session musicians are EXPENSIVE), but still- you hardly ever hear a harp in this kind of music but it WORKS.

The introduction played by the harp also lays out something that is shown throughout the whole song:

AEOLIAN MODE!!!!

Modes are hard to explain bc I barely understand them myself (I said music theory was my special interest, not that I was any good at it) but according to the Wikepedia article I’m reading about them right now, they were used a lot in ANCIENT GREECE. The Aeolian mode specifically was used a lot back then. The word “Aeolian” comes from… you guessed it- the Islands of Aeolus!!!

Aeolus, being the God of the wind- Aeolian mode is this mystical, free-flowing mode that simulates the feeling of wind.

You know when you hear a high wind through a telegraph pole you get this whistling sound? That’s basically a rudimentary, naturally occurring Aeolian Harp. There’s a whole Physics lecture about sound frequencies and microtones and shit in here that I am not yet qualified to give but this kind of stuff FASCINATES me about music.

I found this 60sec short that explains Aeolian mode really well from a channel I really like: https://youtu.be/bJ6TRQ3k45Q?si=sksSz4xyf_96uMrp It’ll give a much more concise explanation than I could, but basically all you need to know is that the melodies are in this special scale.

Aeolian mode is the natural minor scale. It’s often used to feel spooky and mystical- perfect for a song like Wouldn’t You Like where this magical character is singing about a magical plant. It’s not the standard G minor scale, but something a little more twisted and not really something we’re used to hearing, giving it a mysterious quality.

This is established immediately by the harpline, and sets the entire tone of the song. We then hear his trademark giggle, and so in the first 3 seconds we know everything we need to know about who Hermes is and what he’s like.

Speaking of the giggle- I briefly mentioned Panning in my post about Scylla, and while I can’t discern any use of it just by listening, but I imagine Jay’s probably used a subtle amount of it to give the sense of Hermes flying overhead.

Panning is a thing done in audio production where you can choose how much of the sound is heard on the left or the right.

Verse 1 (“I must say”… etc.):

It’s very gentle at this point, the orchestration and vocalisation is calm and lilted. It’s very beautiful, although the minor tonality gives it a slightly uneasy feel. (Often the minor key is described as sounding “sad”, but that’s not always the case. This is a great example).

The harp melody is repetitive, giving a sense of persistence, this adds to the sense of unease. It also has elements of hip-hop, as a gentle beat comes in as the chorus starts.

Chorus 1:

Now the harp cuts out and you’ve got that synth bass-line coming in- the repetitive, insistent beats and this “four-on-the-floor” drum pattern where the bass drum (which sits on the floor) kicks on every beat (in a four-beat bar). This feeling of it almost pounding in your head on every thump.

The instrumentation is very stark, you’ve just got the vocalist, the bass, and the bass drum. This technique is used by Taylor Swift in both the songs “Look What You Made Me Do” and “Vigilante Shit”- this really makes you listen to the lyrics as there’s nothing distracting you. As this is the first time we’re hearing these words, it draws you into what he’s saying.

On the line “Wouldn’t you like to have some of the magic?”, the Lyre comes in, playing this repetitive line that goes up and down and up and down. It’s a repetitive, almost hypnotic sound.

Verse 2 (“She can turn you to an animal”… etc.):

This is when this bluesy piano comes in.

The piano is used a lot in different points of Epic- it’s an essential part of any musical orchestra pit or just a song in general, and crucial in every composers instrumentation arsenal (and was also the first instrument I ever learned to play and my first real taste of music, so it’s not like I’m biased or anything)- but it’s mostly associated with Athena as it’s her signature instrument. It’s a stretch, but my interpretation is that Hermes is trying to appeal to something familiar to Odysseus. So far the only God he’s interacted with at length is Athena, who taught him this idea of being strategic and tactical. Hermes is acknowledging that this is Odysseus’ main way of fighting, while also showing him that there could be something more to it.

The piano plays these low-octave chords in this syncopated rhythm, which adds a layer of intensity that you didn’t have in verse one. This continues into the second chorus.

Chorus 2:

The orchestration is much more intense, pulling the audience (and Odysseus) in.

I’m gonna talk a lot about the musical “language” that Jorge has established for the universe- bits of music theory he’s tied in with themes that don’t necessarily have the same connotations anywhere else, because I think it’s genius.

Jay has said that the mythical beings (Gods, monsters, Odysseus when he kills the suitors) are all able to summon non-diagetic backing vocalists to back them up. Interestingly, Hermes doesn’t use this the first time round, speaking to Ody on his level, and is now rising up and displaying the power he’s tempting him with.

This is when we first hear the backing vocalists. There’s now a group of voices, so there’s more people urging you to taste the flower. Musically speaking, the harmony moving in the same rhythm with the same words as the soloist creates a sense of movement, congruent with Ody’s temptation.

Here is where we get to how this harmony works. This is the section that will actually answer your question.

First of all, I also struggle with overstimulation so I totally get what you’re talking about. There’s a right way and a wrong way to do backing vocals, and I know from experience that writing harmonies as complex as this takes skill and practice.

I think that’s why music is so special to me. The sensory calm certain sounds and songs give me, the good kind of stimulation and the bad kind. It has always made me so curious as to why and how the choices made in music can impact a person psychologically, make the listener feel immersed in a story, inflict specific emotions.

This is what fascinates me about music theory. Yes, it should overwhelm you. Yes, it should sound wrong. But it doesn’t. It WORKS. And what’s so interesting to me is why.

Jorge describes it as “crunchy and punchy” which is honestly perfect.

He is of course, referring to dissonance.

I have been studying music most of my life, and pretty much every music teacher I’ve ever had describes dissonance as just “sounding smushy”. It’s actually “a lack of harmony among musical notes”, usually two notes next to each other played at the same time.

But why does this sound “crunchy” and not “smushy”?

The Melody remains modal, as it has done the entire song. This is our grounding, our “Home”, but the harmony does something different. It’s moving down and up, flowing like wind, like the sea. And it’s doing this chromatically- using notes from the G minor key instead of the Aeolian mode- which creates clashes. Also known as dissonance. Also known as “smushy”.

And this is where we break out the good ol’ notation! I transcribed this myself by ear, so it might not be perfect. I can sight read tablature but not sheet music, so if this is wildly off then I’m sorry. I find it easier to explain music through annotations, but in order to make this screenreader accessible, I’m just gonna cite the lyrics and explain it in the text underneath.

In this section, “Wouldn’t you like to have some of the magic? Wouldn’t you like your outcome preferred?” The melody pretty much remains on C this whole time, only changing at the end of each two-bar phrase. This gives a forceful, repetitive, driving feeling. Hermes is being very persistent here.

For the first two-bar phrase- “Wouldn’t you like to have some of the magic”- both harmonies are the same. They then split at “Wouldn’t you like your outcome preferred?”

“Wouldn’t you”- The harmony starts on G, which is the root of G minor (the key that we are in). This is diatonic (using the notes from the key)- so it sounds nice, not “smushy”.

“Like to”- We then go down to F sharp, which is dissonant to the Aeolian mode, even though it’s the major 7th of G minor. This is why it sounds “smushy”

“Have some of the”- And here is where the “crunchiness” kicks in. It’s resolving down to the flattened 7th, which is F natural. The flattened 7th is the modal note.

“Magic”- The first two-bar phrase ends in E natural, which is dissonant to the mode. The melody also ends in D, which provides a lot of dissonance with the E as they are right next to each other, which can create clashes.

“Wouldn’t you”- This is where the two harmonies split. Harmony 1 goes back to G, which is the root of the mode. Harmony 2 goes down to E flat, which is also consonant (not dissonant).

“Like your”- Harmony 2 goes down to D, which is dissonant with the note in the melody (C) because they are next to each other. Harmony 1 goes to F sharp, which is dissonant to the Aeolian mode, as said before.

“Outcome”- Harmony 1 resolves to an F, and Harmony 2 goes back to an E flat.

“Preferred”- The last two notes “smush” as F natural (Harmony 1) and E natural (Harmony 2) are a semitone apart, then both harmonies join at E natural, which clashes with the D in the melody.

So the pattern goes from “nice” to “smush” to “nice” to “smush” to “nice” to “smush” to “nice” to “even more smush” and then when the next part of the harmony starts “deep in the night” you resolve back to the G, which is the tonic note.

Why does the dissonance work in this song?

It’s passing. Going down by step and resolving to a modal note. Passing notes that resolve don’t have that smushyness. They crunch.

Dissonance is a funny thing. Often musicians stay away from it because it sounds muddy and awkward and not great, but it can at times sound quite sweet, and with skill and knowledge you can learn how to use it effectively.

It also works here because it fits with the aesthetic and Hermes’ character. We’re already in this spooky, mysterious mode. We’re in a minor key. And Jay is using all these other musical techniques to give a slightly uneasy, hypnotic feel. The dissonance feels strange- not the sweet, diatonic harmonies we’re used to hearing. This is what makes this song stand out, and what makes Hermes such an intriguing and appealing character.

There’s this “up and down” melodic pattern that occurs throughout the song in several places. While Harmony 2 is doing that, Harmony 1 is just going down, repeatedly. I find it interesting that Odysseus isn’t rising to this power, but falling to it. It hints at Hermes’ trickster nature. These musical motifs (harmony, the harpline, the synthline, etc.) go up and down and up and down and up and down like gentle waves. We’re on the ocean. It’s lulling, compelling, hypnotic. “Come hither” whispering in the ear. It’s creepy, to be honest, and shows a darker side of the song that I will talk about later.

Bridge (“Here in the root of this flower”…etc):

Jorge has talked about how this is one of his favourite bits to sing, and musically that makes perfect sense.

Firstly, you’ve gotta hand it to Troy Doherty’s amazing performance. Hermes is so expressive even without seeing him.

Quick note about vocal techniques- YOU CAN HEAR SMILES. The act of smiling changes the shape of your mouth and thus changes the quality of your voice. You can HEAR Troy break out into a smile on the line “Though it’s only for a moment, ‘til you’ve beaten your opponent”. This is also my theory as to why the line “Penelope Whyyyy, you know I’m too shyy” is so stuck in everyone’s mind. Try singing it without smiling and then try singing it while smiling. Do you think it would’ve been that catchy if Jay wasn’t such a cutie pie?

Smiling is contagious, even if you’re only subconsciously noticing it. Hearing a smile gives you that little hit of dopamine.

When we hit the bridge, the piano, bass, and backing vocals cut out. Again, it’s just drums, harp, and lead vocals. This signifies a new section of music and also does the same trick as before- drawing you into the vocalist- but this time making you focus on the melody instead of the lyrics.

This whole bit is solely in Aeolian mode. The downward motion of the bridge increases the intensity of the song, dragging you into his words, falling into the power of the root. It’s sort of a callback to the downward motion to the second harmony line.

The constant quaver rhythm of this rising and falling conjunct “stepwise” melody gives a spiralling feeling, leading downwards. The rhythm is almost conversational, which fits with a mode like Aeolian that flows like the wind. It’s also why it’s so catchy and fun to sing. I love how Jorge composes in this uncommon scale in this particular pattern to reflect this idea.

There’s also one particular detail about the rhythm of this riff that compositionally shows something even deeper:

THIS IS IN TRIPLETS.

DO YOU KNOW WHAT TRIPLETS SYMBOLISE IN EPIC???

RUTHLESSNESS.

Ruthlessness is usually a theme reserved for Poseidon, Act 1 Athena, and Act 2 Odysseus. You wouldn’t expect a “friendly” God like Hermes to be using it. But he is. He’s being persistent, constant. He is trying every trick in his bag to persuade Ody to take the flower.

Jay is VERY deliberate about his arrangements and his composition, so this is not a coincidence. He has established this “language” of musical voices, rhythmical voices, and motivic voices to symbolise all his characters and themes. It’s fascinating to me that he made this choice for Hermes. Ever so subtly hinting that the God might not be as benevolent as he seems.

Chorus 3:

The instrumentation of this new chorus is pretty similar to Chorus 2, except…

These DRUMS.

I asked my dad about these while I was staying with my parents over the Xmas holidays, and it resulted in a 5-minuite-long infodump about a specific type of drum used in 80s pop music (yeah I totally definitely don’t see the family resemblance at all /sarcasm). Any Brit in the audience might recognise this drum sound as sounding almost identical the intro to a show called East Enders (which I never watched, but was aware of) and idk if that was Jay’s intention, but the drums apparently have a long and complicated history, which I will give you the abbreviated version. (If this is too much information you can skip the next paragraph if you so wish, I realise this can be overwhelming)

Bass drum called the Simmons’ drum- electronic drum pad- famous for being hexagonal- they were radical in that they gave an electronic palette to modern dummers- they weren’t well-built and the very earliest ones were made from the same composite materials as police riot gear- caused repetitive strain injury that became known by session drummers as “Simmon’s wrist” because it was a bit like using your drumsticks on concrete (What’s that? You don’t think music is as intense as sport? Musicians get injured just as much as footballers do)- the sound is one of the most distinctive sounds in 80s music and entirely synthetic, generated through synthesis so some poor technician had to sit and programme a synthesiser to sound like a tom-tom- in the 90s and early 00s it was seen as cheap and over-the-top but is now looked on with a sense of love and nostalgia.

This is, of course, a sample of the Simmon’s drum as I doubt Jorge owns a real one.

So what does that do for Hermes? It grounds the song it its 80s retro aesthetic, creating Hermes’ unique stylistic voice. Jorge has described how he got the idea for Hermes’ sound when he saw a retro, multi-coloured lamp that made him think of 80s music. Each character in Epic has their own soundscape, and this very particular drum sound adds to it.

It also adds intensity to this final chorus. These loud, heavy drum sounds give that adrenaline rush that the previous verses and choruses have been building to, when Odysseus finally takes the flower.

Then we get Odysseus singing the “oOOOooOoOOhHHHhs” as he eats the holy moly, then the chorus ends, and we get a repeat of the harpline from the intro as he thanks Hermes for the help.

My conclusion:

Odysseus has made a Faustian pact with Hermes, the trickster god. While Hermes’s words are friendly with no ill-intent, the composition and orchestration lean more towards this idea of “making a deal with the devil”. Gods know the game, and how it’s played. You, mere mortal, do not. When they entreat mortals to do their bidding will offer riches, money, fame, success, magic, power, but very rarely are their motives sound.

This is Odysseus’ first taste of the magic that separates gods and monsters from mortals. He is able to fight Circe as an equal, and this new development teaches him that he doesn’t always have to be strategic and diplomatic, but ruthless and relentless as well.

I know that the fandom see Troy Doherty’s performance of Hermes as “omg babygirl so slayyyy!!!” But there’s actually a deeper level to what he’s doing here. He’s a trickster God, tempting and teasing Odysseus down a path of magic and power- giving him the first taste of something that will later drive him into becoming the Monster. Hermes is almost seducing him to the dark side, using rhetorical questions, waving the Holy Moly in front of his face and saying “Come on. You know you want it. Wouldn’t you like a taste of the power? Wouldn’t you like to be victorious for once?” In his lyrics describing a “taste” of the power being something almost like a temptation. Odysseus is breaking from his norm- using magic and might instead of logic, diplomacy and reasoning. While he’s doing it to save his men, this is a major step in his descent into monsterhood, and it’s fascinating how Jay does this not only lyrically, but musically as well, using what’s called “word painting” (music and words working together) to create the sense of hypnotism and manipulation.

Hermes is being:

Ruthless (triplets),

Ceaseless (repetition),

Persuasive (rhetorical questions),

And hypnotic (lilting, lulling melody).

He’s drawing you in, forcing you to listen to him (stark instrumentation focusing on the vocals, then increasing the instrumentation as the intensity progressively increases, culminating in this big, expressive final chorus with this pwerful drum sound)

Overall Jorge uses all these techniques to show Hermes manipulating Odysseus into taking the flower. By subconsciously making you feel the temptation that Ody- the Narrator- is feeling through music and orchestration.

So anyway, those are my thoughts on “Wouldn’t you like”. I didn’t even have time to talk about “Dangerous”- perhaps I’ll make a separate post about that but no promises. Thank you so much for reading if you made it to the end!

[novashelby]

"Yes, Miss. Carleton?"-Tommy Shelby x Reader One-Shot

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader Warning: mention of sex, age gap, language Word Count: 944 Summary: Tommy Shelby never knew his old fling, May Carleton, had a daughter until she came with a package and a naughty attitude.

So much for a hiatus. I got this idea and I really wanted to write it. Please enjoy!

“So,” the young lady sitting across from him on the leather pleated couch said. Tommy looked up from the sealed envelope, his glasses resting on the arch of his nose. He studied her for a moment. Her eyes resembled her mother, but other than that, she must have taken her father’s looks. May had intense eyes, he thought, just that like that. “You’re the man that she was shacking up with? Tommy Shelby.” 

Tommy pursed his lips, taking off his specks and wiping across his forehead. “May never told me she had a daughter. Where were you when I was,” his words trailed off, his hand waving. “When I was, y’know, how did you put it?” 

She grinned. “Hitting the sack? Getting lucky? Or,” she paused, leaning forward. She folded her hands and offered a teasing grin. “For you horse loving people…rolling in the hay?” Tommy grabbed a smoke and lit it without breaking eye contact. His tongue swiped over the filter. “Tell me, Mr. Shelby, was there hay rolling?”

His brows arched. He responded to her obvious tone with something more dry-blunt and unamused. “No, I don’t like hay poking at me balls.” She laughed lightly and stood, walking towards the liquor cabinet. 

She paused mid way, turning back on her heels and thumbing behind her. “Do you mind? You see, I traveled quite a bit to come and deliver that envelope specially for you. And here you are, not even offering me a drink.” He motioned for her to help herself.

“Now, Miss. Carleton-”

“Oh, God!” she said, amusement laced within her words. She grabbed the whiskey bottle and looked at him. “Miss. Carleton. Give me a fuckin’ break,” she sighed, opening the bottle with her teeth and pouring a heavy hand. “Say,  Mr. Shelby, is that what you called my uppity posh mother when your cock was shoved to the ball up her cunt?”

Tommy wasn’t often shocked by things, but how did May raise a girl that talked like that? Even he, himself, was tempted to clean that mouth of her. But as he looked over her, he thought a bit more creatively about how he could. He blinked away the thoughts of shoving his fingers in that mouth of hers before his trousers exposed him. “I apologize, Mss. Carleton,” he said, not calling her anything, but. She snorted, putting down the whiskey with a clink. 

“Tommy, Tommy…Shelby.” She started to make her way to him, her finger playing along the rim of the glass. “Tommy Shelby…Tommy, Tommy Shelby. Hmmm.” Tommy felt his back hit his desk as she pressed her body against his chest, her red manicured fingers caressing his cheek until he caught it. “You’re a mysterious man, Mr. Shelby-”

“Am I, yeah?” he said, squeezing her hand, but not pushing her away. Instead, he breathed in her scent; a flowery perfume that hardly matched her personality. The whiskey on her breath, however, was well suited. “And what do you know about that?”

“That despite being a man of many secrets,” she said, putting her whiskey down and placing her free hand on his chest. She dragged her fingers down until they could loop on his leathered belt. “There is a single woman that has fucked Tommy Shelby and not spilled all those dirty secrets. They talk. They say these things and I knew, I just knew, that when my mother had a special delivery for the Tommy Shelby, I just had to investigate all these awful, crude allegations.”

He grinned slightly, giving into the little games. His hand dropped hers as it made its way to rub her tender, soft cheek. “And what do they say, darling? Perhaps I can deny or confirm these allegations.” His voice was low and husky, and it sent a shiver down her back. 

She swirled out her tongue to meet his fingers, licking at them. She caught his thumb, sucking it in her mouth before pushing it back out with a pop. As she spoke, his thumb played with her bottom lip, smearing her lip rouge. “That you are also a man of many talents and God gifted you with something quite impressive.”

“And what do they say about this thing that is quite impressive-”

“That it’s rather large,” she said, closing her eyes for a second, rubbing her face into his hand. 

In return, he grinned. “Should you not be heading home?”

“Are you above fucking me because of our conflict of interest?” she teased, finger flicking at the metal clasp on his belt. “A man of many trades. Far more disgusting, vile, nasty, and grotesque than fucking me, don’t you say?” She loosened the belt and dragged down her hand, massaging him through his trousers. “Mmm, yes, I can feel exactly what they say-”

“Fuck,” he breathed, his other hand moving to her hip, pulling her closer. Shaking his head, he said, “no, No I don’t-I don’t think I’m above that.” 

“Good.” She gripped his chin and pulled him down. Their lips just hovered, just about touching. So close, they could taste the whiskey on each other’s breaths. “Now, I’m sick of this Tommy Shelby, the gentleman. I want to meet Tommy Shelby, the gangster. The one that is going to bend me over this nicely polished wooden desk and fuck me. Disgusting, vile, and-”

“Nasty?” His hand dropped from her cheek and wrapped around her neck, fingers squeezing. She let out a little whimper of a moan, nodding. “You want it nasty, huh?” She nodded again, feeling his fingers choking her. “Good. Because after hearing this nasty mouth talk, there is only one way to fuckin’ fix it.”

[stupidlittlespirit]

random thought.. but do you think Ford would be open to having a partner who isn't very book smart.. I think about this a lot because I'm not nearly as intelligent as he is,, (i'm sure most of us aren't but..)

..like I'm smart in some things but I never was an academic god yannow. I was in special classes all through out school because I learn slower than most people LOL, do NOT ask me to do long division. I STILL COUNT ON MY FINGERS AND TOES FOR SIMPLE EQUATIONS LMFAOOO

anyway

I think there should be more x reader fics about Ford and a not so smart reader (not saying you should be the one to write it obviously, i'm just throwing my opinion out to the world anonymously)

I feel like I see so many fics about the reader being his lab assistant with like 4 freaking PHDS or whatever, and I just feel so disconnected to the story when I read those because like, that's not me AT ALL.

(no shade to freaks of a feather btw, I LOVE THAT ONE ACTUALLY.)

idk. sorry. i'm just rambling to you now, I just mainly wanted to hear what you thought about my first question since ur like a ford pines pro or whateva. :-)

This is actually why I made the MTB AU.

I do appreciate the fics with Reader being attached to Ford in an academic setting but I am not that kind of person and I cannot see myself being smart in that way, personally. I like to learn etc but I'm not very academically inclined and I could NOT put up with the shit that man would run me through in that scenario. One smart word and I'm beating his ass.

So, I made MTB because I wanted Reader to be a bit more down to Earth (idk if that's the right phrasing?) and for them to be able to exist without competing with Ford. I felt like a lot of fics wanted the Reader to keep up with/out pace Ford intellectually and I'll die before I'm caught competing with a man, I'll tell you that much for free sfkjhsa

Absolutely NO shade to the fics in which this is the case, though, because there are still plenty of those ones that I enjoy!!!! It's just that when it comes to my own stuff, I'm more inclined to want to read as accurate to myself as possible and I don't have those kinds of talents. I'm not that kind of guy. Again, doesn't mean it's bad, I'm not saying that, I'm just saying I do not have the facilities for that LMAO

I love science and studies and all of that, but it can be fun to balance out Ford's intelligence with emotional stuff and make use of his personality beyond his academic capabilities. You don't need to compete with a partner, you make up their other half. So whatever he's bad at, you make up for and vice versa.

I don't think Ford would require a partner to be super 'intelligent'/book smart/theory smart. He'd be happy if you were, but he'd be equally as happy if you were just willing to listen to him yap about his smart stuff and cheer him on with it all. When he's older, he tells us himself that he's grown to value love and compassion and common sense equally with theory/book intelligence, and that he's a fool for ever thinking differently.

Sure, if you were unkind and rude and purposefully obtuse with no intention of learning and growing, he probably wouldn't like that very much, but he's not going to think less of someone he loves just because they're not hitting triple digits on the IQ chart. He loves his brother and Stan isn't up there in that regard, yknow?

Intelligence doesn't revolve around a singular type of definition. Intelligence exists in many forms. Just because you aren't 'book smart', it doesn't mean you're 'dumb' or anything, it just means your talent lies in something else. You could be very emotionally intelligent, or creative, or funny or kind or sweet or whatever example you want.

I think that's what matters to him in the end.

[jackactuallywrites]

All Seeing, All Knowing, All Loving Part 16

Warnings: Filthy music taste and thirsting!

Summary: You flirt with Ghost and then immediately regret it (but not really)

Notes: I have blessed you with my music taste (specifically my writing smut playlist)

Word Count: 2,066

ao3 link

It was just a film. That was all. It was a film, with some very talented actors, and some truly marvellous makeup artists and special effect artists.

Yeah, no, it wasn’t working. You were still freaked out. Even if, logically, you knew that zombies weren’t real and were, in fact, a biological impossibility, you couldn’t help but have that prickling feeling in the back of your neck. It didn’t help that Soap and Roach were playing silly beggars and sprinting around your apartment, knocking things over and making banging sounds that made you jump every single time. It was freaking you the fuck out. The brightness of the phone wasn’t doing much to soothe you, and you’d turned all the big lights on, yet still, your heart was racing. You shifted uncomfortably on your sofa, pulling your blanket tighter around you. Yeah, if there was gonna be a sudden apocalypse, a blanket would keep you safe.

The ping of your phone made you jump, and you huffed at your own anxiety. It was a film, dammit.

‘Ghost: What are you up to tonight? :-)’

Well, that made you feel better. Christ, you hoped he wasn’t planning a surprise visit; you were covered in Doritos dust, and there were soup stains on your pyjama bottoms.

‘You: Just having a little film night. How about you?’

‘Ghost: What you watching?’

‘You: Train to Busan. Korean zombie film! You gonna tell me what you’re doing or is it a state secret?’

‘Ghost: (image)’

Ghost was in the gym. He’d sent you the most stereotypical picture, sat on a bench, wearing a plain green t-shirt that you could see was drenched in sweat. His face was still fucked up; you could see it now that he wasn’t wearing the balaclava, though the bruises were beginning to change colour, tinged with an ugly green around the sides. You were sure that he was flexing his arms; his biceps looked bigger than you remembered. What would it feel like to be wrapped up in those? To have that big beast of a man on top of you?

‘You: TAKE IT OFF. :)’

Mm. You needed to be put down. What thirsty gods had possessed you to send that?

Immediately, you locked your phone and threw it to the other side of the sofa. There was laundry you could do! That would distract you. You dove into the chore with enthusiasm you never usually had, striding into your bedroom and stripping your bed with ferocious energy, throwing everything into the corner of your room, then scooping it up and carrying it out. You paused in the living room to gingerly check your phone, but there was no new message. Argh. At least you’d replaced your zombie fear with something more real. You placed a pillow on top of your phone and then walked into the kitchen to stuff your bedding in the washing machine, trying not to think about the inevitable rejection coming your way.

With the washing machine on, you went to the airing cupboard to get yourself fresh bedding, picking out a nice dark green cotton. There was no connection between you sending a risky text to Ghost and then getting fresh bedding. None at all. Naturally, Soap had decided that you absolutely needed his help putting the bedsheet on, leaping onto the centre of the bare mattress and watching you struggle with the corners of the fitted sheet. He liked to jump forward and slap at your hands as you smoothed out the wrinkles in the sheets, getting fresh white hair all over the nice, clean bedding, as was his way. You just about managed to stop him from crawling inside the duvet cover, finally ending up throwing him in the living room so you could make your bed in peace. He made his displeasure evident, yowling outside your door as you made your bed, but you ignored him, focusing on making an absolutely perfect fresh bed. Military standard, even.

You needed another task. You hadn’t taken a shower yet. You could do pre-shower makeup! That would kill at least half an hour minimum. Right, you needed your slut pop playlist and all the makeup you’d bought, thinking a bold red lip was going to be your new daily thing. Ah, the optimist you were. As soon as you opened the bedroom door to get your things, Soap came sprinting in, leaping onto your freshly made bed and zooming around in circles on it as though the duvet was the most exciting thing he’d ever seen. You gathered the essentials, fresh knickers, makeup bag, waterproof Bluetooth speaker, and your phone which you had now turned onto ‘do not disturb’. Yeah, you were ignoring him; he wasn’t ignoring you.

Oh, you were serving c u n t. Clearly, the very spirit of Gaga and Petras had touched you through the speakers, the spirit of artpop on your face in a bright splash of watercolour painted across your skin. It did look a little bit like you had clown bruising. But, you’d killed half an hour! You took a few photos for posterity, sent them to the group chat, then stripped off and hopped in the shower, bidding farewell to your look. With Gaga blaring while you showered, you really did feel as though you could win a lip sync, ignoring the fact that the shower did drown out a lot of your voice. You had to force yourself not to dance after almost slipping, deciding that dying like this was not how you wanted to go, even if it would be a little funny for the paramedics to hear the music.

With your face back to normal, you wrapped your hair up in a towel and pulled your dressing gown on, carrying the speaker into the living room, still blasting your slut playlist. Roach didn’t approve, skulking into the kitchen away from you. Hater.

For a moment, you didn’t hear the knocking, too lost in the beat of your music, but as the song ended, you heard it in the brief silence between tracks. Ah, shit. Your neighbours didn’t care for loud music. Absolutely no taste. You turned it down slightly, but not completely off, as you went to the door, peering through the peephole.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

Ghost was on the other side of the door. No balaclava, still wearing the t-shirt he’d been wearing in the gym. It was a text! A jest! Why would he come to your door? Fuck. You dithered at the door uncomfortably; you had nothing on under your dressing gown, and your knickers were stuffed in your pocket. Christ. How much of Petras had he heard? He reached forward to gently knock on the door again, and you panicked. Okay. You needed to change. Fuck, your good clothes were on the clothes horse.

“I know you’re on the other side of the door, darlin’.”

Oh, motherfucker. Of course, he would. Stupid military ass. He looked directly at you through the peephole, a very satisfied look on his face. “You only brave over texts?”

Oh, he knew how to play you like a fiddle. You immediately pulled the chain off and opened the door, your face defiant. “The chain got stuck.”

If he knew you were lying, which he probably did, he didn’t call you out directly, just giving you an amused nod, “Sure. May I come in?”

You stepped aside to let him in, only slightly embarrassed at the music that was still pumping out of your speakers. Ghost stifled a laugh, raising a brow and nodding towards the speakers, “These lyrics accurate?” Oh, Kim had betrayed you. He tilted his head to the side, “‘Treat me like a slut, little dirty bitch I love to fuck.’” You could feel your cheeks flushing, and you crossed your arms, “She makes good music!” Ghost looked like the cat who had caught the mouse and was having far too much fun playing with it. “Doesn’t answer my question, love.” You quickly stepped forward to press pause on your playlist before ‘Bring Wet Cunt’ started playing, and Ghost laughed, “Come on, you shy now?”

You took the towel from around your hair and threw it at his face. Like every other time you’d thrown anything at him, he caught it before it hit his face, laughing. His eyes flicked over your dressing gown, “Anything else you want to throw at me?” Christ alive, what had gotten into him? One flirty text, and he was trying to get you naked? Okay, no, you could do this. You were a bad bitch. You tried to look nonchalant, shrugging at him, “You expect me to strip for you when you won’t even take a single shirtless photo for me?”

That was the wrong move. You could see the way his eyes lit up, pupils widening. He leant in, close enough so you could smell his sweat mixed in with his cologne, intoxicatingly delicious, “It’s only coming off if you take it off.” Okay, be cool. You had to remember to breathe, taking in a slow breath, then pushing it out. You could be that bitch. You were going to wipe that smug smirk off his face. And maybe take him to bed. Your hands reached out to grab the hem of his shirt, beginning to lift it up, revealing just a touch of his lower stomach and the dark blond hair that led down into his joggers.

Ghost’s hands flashed out to grab yours, dropping the towel as his fingers encircled your wrists, his top dropping back down. Your anticipation was quickly replaced with smugness, and you broke out into a wide smile, looking at him triumphantly, “Oh, suck it! You chickened out.” His eyes narrowed, “Did not.” You bathed in your victory, “Uh huh. So this,” you wiggled your hands, still caught in his grip, “that’s not me winning?” He looked you up and down, eyes dark, “I’m stopping you from doing something you couldn’t handle.” He dropped your wrists, taking a step back from you, “‘sides, I need to get back to base.” It was impossible not to poke the bear. “You running away from me?” He snorted at you, “Nice try, love.”

The man seemed to have a lot more self-control than you; he seemed entirely uninterested again, looking around your apartment, “Where’s our boys?” You frowned, then realised you were jealous of cats, and gestured to the bedroom, “Soap’s ruining my freshly made bed, and Roach is… somewhere.” Ghost clicked his tongue a few times, and Soap came running out of the bedroom, meowing loudly as he rubbed against Ghost’s legs. Roach came sauntering out of the kitchen, only giving a singular chirp as he jumped up onto the coffee table. Ghost fussed them both, and you sighed, leaning against the wall, “You ever gonna tell me about the names?” Ghost didn’t look at you as he answered, scratching Roach’s shoulders, “Through memorial, we reach immortality.”

You raised a brow at him, but he didn’t elaborate. Memorial. So your cats were named after dead people? Ah. Dead soldiers. That explained the weird nicknames. You didn’t push the topic.

Ghost turned away from the cats and approached you, bending down to grab the towel as he walked, holding it out to you. As you took hold of it, he yanked on his end, pulling you closer. His hand snaked around the back of your neck, holding you in place as he whispered into your ear, “You think you’ve won, but you’ve just proved again how desperately you want me.” He straightened up as he let you go, his fingers tapping on your chin to make you look up, “Don’t quit trying, though, love. I do enjoy your little attempts.”

With that, he moved past you to the door, unlocking it and letting himself out, letting the door close behind him.

Every time you thought you had one over him, he pulled the rug out from under your feet. You groaned and shook out the tension from your body, deciding that you really needed to up your game. As you walked toward your bedroom, you dug in your pocket to get your clean pants out, but there was nothing there. Had he pickpocketed you? For the love of fuck.

Ghost had stolen your fucking underwear.

[azrakaban]

Heather - Lorenzo Berkshire

A/N: Happy heather day whores have some words on a screen (yes i know it's very late shush your mushes)

A/N pt2: GUYS I GOT A SWEATER. Also! A note for Americans, a JUMPER is what English people call Sweaters. Which is why Enzo says that!

Summary: You get a sweater <3

THE WHISPER IS FROM PINTEREST!!!! NOT MINE!!!!

..............................................................................................................................

"I still remember

3rd of December

me in your sweater"

-Conan Gray

..............................................................................................................................

December 3rd! An insignificant date for most adults. Had you asked them what was special about the date they would shrug, shake their heads in search of an answer. Perhaps they would tell you it was twenty two days until Christmas.

However, ask any teenager, muggle, wizard or squib, what was significant about the date, and the returned answer would be "Heather Day!"

And here it was. Heather Day. 3rd of December. Almost as bad as valentines day for the single population of hogwarts, who would spend another year freezing in their own sweaters. You were one such person. 

  As you walked to the great hall, you unconsciously shivered as you saw couples wrapped up in each others sweaters. You tried to keep your head down as you passed Alicia Spinnet tugging on Katie Bell's quidditch jersey, a happy smile on her face. 

You were sure a lot of people didn't even know why the trend happened each year, which song had prompted it, which artist wrote the song. YOU DID! Being a massive Conehead came with: A) the unfortunate disadvantage of having to see everyone pretending to like Conan for a day, and B) knowing exactly where the trend came from and being ever increasingly cold each year you didn't receive a sweater. 

It seemed silly to most - insignificant in the grand scheme of things - but it niggled at you, and you found yourself wishing, just once, someone would wrap you in their sweater. "It's just polyester," Astoria told you after receiving a sweater from Pansy, but she couldn't hide the smile on her face for long. 

In truth it was never just polyester, for anyone. It represented so much more, that someone trusted you with an item of theirs, wanted you to wear their things, to share something with you. It represented being loved, liked, wanted. And to not have that yet? It hurt. 

In the build up to the fateful date, people had discussed it with an air of casualness, but everyone was hoping for a sweater, naturally. You'd talked about it in the common room with Pansy, Astoria and the others, but unsurpringly, most of the guys zoned out as soon as the subject was breached, Mattheo even going so far as to fall asleep. 

So yeah, you didn't have much hope of receiving something from anyone in particular. COUGH COUGH MR BERKSHIRE.

..............................................................................................................................

It had snowed that morning, and it didn't show signs of easing up with the snowfall, resulting in a very cold Hogwarts. You weren't wearing nearly enough layers.

In the afternoon, you'd decided to go to a corner of the library, away from all the so called 'study dates' that were taking place. Thank god nobody tended to encroach on your little corner, as it was so far back in the library that few people could be bothered to walk all the way there. 

To your chagrin, that peace was soon disturbed by footsteps. You listened carefully, eventually identifying the footsteps. They belonged to your friend Lorenzo, Enzo only to friends, and your theory was proved as he rounded the corner and sat down on the opposite end of the window seat you were perched on. 

"Thought I'd find you here." He said quietly, getting comfortable. You smiled over your books at him. "You were right. What's up?" You dropped your eyes back down to the book infront of you, shivering slightly. 

"I was just kinda- hey are you shivering?" Enzo frowned, looking concerned. You tried to still yourself to no avail, and shook your head.

"No, nuh uh, why would you think that?" You forced a smile onto your face, trying to hide your chattering teeth. 

"Liar, you're cold, here, have my jumper, I'm too hot anyway." He said, pulling his jumper over his head and passing it to you. 

"Oh, thanks." You tugged it over your head, heart beating wildly. Did he know what it meant? What it symbolised?

He smiled, a real smile. None of that forced look he had when forced to speak to someone. He wanted to be there. "It looks really good on you." He murmured, looking over you in it. You felt your cheeks get warmer, and prayed he couldn't tell how his comment made you feel. 

"You know, there's a party tonight. You think you'll go?" He says quickly, looking up at you, hair flopping into his eyes. You thought for a moment. "Maybe. Think I should wear your jumper if we go?" You teased. 

He looked up in surprise, then grinned, his cheeks turning a shade pinker. Not that you noticed, you were too busy rethinking every conversation you'd ever had while waiting for his reaction.

"Actually, yeah, like I said, it looks really good on you." He answered, running a hand through his hair. 

"Maybe I will then." You smiled faintly. He grinned back at you, then checked his watch. 

"Ah shit, I'm gonna be late for Quidditch practice. Ah well, catch you later y/n, nice knowing you, Mattheo is gonna murder me." He stood, pressing a quick kiss to your hair before hurrying away. 

You sat there frozen for a few moments before it registered. He had kissed you. On your head. BUT STILL! He'd never done that before, it must have meant something right? RIGHT

..............................................................................................................................

Later that day, just after dusk, you were staring at the jumper in the mirror. "Okay lovely, jumper off, you're wearing this." Pansy stated, throwing an outfit to you. You hesitated, catching the bundle. Keeping the jumper on would mean a lot to you - but it would also invite questions - ones you hadn't even answered to yourself yet. Taking off the jumper was your only option. 

You tugged it off, before heading to the bathroom to change. Astoria smiled at you and Pansy nodded approvingly once you emerged. "Gorgeous as always." Astoria commented. "Well duh, I picked the fit. Come on, party's already going from the sound of it." Pansy said, gesturing to the door. 

You all headed downstairs, and your eyes immediately met the brown eyes of Lorenzo like you were magnets. Because of this, you saw as his face fell slightly when he took in your outfit, sans jumper. Mattheo noticed this and and patted Enzo on the back in a gesture of comfort. Enzo sighed and disappeared into the crowd as you began to head in his direction. You paused, a little hurt, before going back to Pansy and Astoria, joining in their conversation. 

Throughout the night, you caught his glances, only for him to turn away. The common room was cold, and you regretted leaving his jumper. Eventually, you had enough and ambushed him, sneaking up behind him while he was talking with Blaiseand tapping his shoulder. 

He turned, saw who it was and immediately forced a small smile. "Yn." You looked so hurt. Enzo was faking for you now. What happened? 

"Why are you avoiding me now?" You tried to seem curious, but the hurt flooded into in your voice. He picked up on it too, flinching barely noticeably. 

"It's stupid." He sighed, brushing his hair back from his eyes with his fingers. "Not stupid if it means I get my best friend back." You offered, and he tensed. "That's what you want is it y/n? A best friend?" He said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Blaise winced and skedaddled away. 

"What are you trying to say?" You pressed, confused. He groaned. "Nothing, it's stupid, can you just forget about it? Please?" He answered, looking slightly upset.

"I don't want to. You're upset with me, and I wanna fix it." You said softly, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He sighed, meeting your eyes. "Fine, but not here." He led you from the common room, taking you towards the boys dormitories. Theodore looked over and grinned. "AYYYYY FINALLY!" He cheered, before Enzo sent him a murderous look and he quickly shut up. 

Eventually you reached the boys dorm for your year. You sank down onto his bed, quickly noticing what seemed to be every jumper Enzo owned on his bed, you frowned, but weren't given time to think as he started talking.

"Look, I don't wanna mess anything up, but I think we're a little past that now. You're not wearing my jumper." He said plainly, letting his hands fall to his sides. You looked surprised.

"I can go get it, if you want?" You offered, trying to fix things. He shook his head, sighing. "No, y/n, it's not the same, now you're wearing it because you feel obligated, not because you feel what it represents." He avoided your eyes.

"Enzo, what?" You said softly. He looked back at you, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"When you were talking about the 3rd of December, you said that giving someone your jumper meant you liked them. That it was as good as declaring your undying love for someone or something..." He said, as it started to register with you what was happening. 

"Enzo I don't underst-" You began, but he cut you off.

"No but I think you do, y/n. And it's okay, I give you my jumper, no biggie, just basically tell you in your own language that I really like you, and you wear it, so I'm mistakenly thinking that means you like me too. Then at the first opportunity, it's off, and you clearly didn't mean what you think. Maybe you were just cold after all. And hey, that's fine, I don't wanna screw up what we have already, but it sucks, you know?" He said frustratedly, pacing up and down infront of you. 

"I didn't think you knew what it meant." You whispered, catching his hand as he paced. He looked down at you, surprise flooding his features. "What?" He murmured, taking your other hand in his.

"I thought you were just doing it because I was cold, I didn't think it was because you liked me. I didn't know you knew what it represented." You said, upset obvious in your voice. "I took it off later, even though I didn't want to, because keeping it on meant admitting to myself and to Pansy and Astoria that I like you." You whispered, squeezing his hand. 

"Oh." He breathed, realisation dawning. "Yeah oh." You said, rolling your eyes with a slight giggle. 

"You like me?" He asked, smiling. You nodded vigorously and he crushed you into a hug. When he eventually released you, he was smiling widely. "So will you wear my sweater?" He asked, cocking his head with a smirk playing at his lips. 

You nodded, standing. "I'll go get it." You tried to stand, but he pulled you back down, grabbing a random sweater from the bed. "No, wear this one." He gently pulled it over your head carefully. "There. Now you have two." He murmured, smiling. He looked down at your lips, leaned in slightly, hesitated, then committed, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss, which you reciprocated happily as he grinned into it. 

You pulled back eventually.He pulled you from the mound of sweaters on the bed, which you looked back on. "Any particular reason every jumper you own is on your bed?" You giggled, and he flushed slightly.

"I wanted to make sure I gave you the right one. Now c'mon, let's show everyone your new jumper, hmm?"  He smiled, and led you back downstairs, clad happily in his jumper. 

..............................................................................................................................

A/N: I KNOW I'M VERY LATE TO HEATHER DAY IDC BRO 😔

[rainbow-rey]

Shameless - chap. 1

Sukuna x Reader - MDNI!!

Summary: You didn't expect to end up under that guy you met on your weekend getaway, but you're glad you did.

Tags: reader-insert, pov second person, p in v, creamp/e, size k/nk, c/nnilingus

Posted on ao3 as a longfic

It’s at a hockey game that you first meet Sukuna Ryoumen. 

Minnesota Wild versus Seattle Kraken. You’re a Seattle fan through and through, and you were lucky enough to be visiting your friend in the East the very weekend your favourite team was playing there. You bought tickets as soon as you realized the dates lined up. 

Fast forward two weeks, and here you are. You’re donning your navy blue jersey, the one you got at your first Seattle game. Your friends, Shoko and Utahime, are getting seated to your left. 

On your right is an adorable pink-haired little kid, probably around six or seven. He turns to say something to the guy next to him—possibly the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life. 

He’s big. Like, at least twice your size, if not triple. His arms are crossed, and the flexed muscles show through his sweater—a deep green one. It matches the Minnesota hat he wears on top of his hair, the same shade of pink as the kid’s. He’s got interesting tattoos on his face. 

Despite him being the enemy, you can’t stop your eyes from dragging up and down his body. He looks like he’s never smiled a day in his life, but when the kid taps his shoulder to talk to him, his face lights up. He answers with enthusiasm, and says something to make the little boy start giggling. Hot and good with kids? They don’t make them like this anymore. 

You might be drooling, but luckily you’re saved when Shoko nudges you to wake you from your trance. “Whoa, dude. You were totally staring at that guy.”

“I was justified, though. Look at him!” You discreetly side-eye the mysterious man to your right. “Hot hockey dad? Sign me up!”

“He’s a Minnesota fan. Might as well give up now. What’re you gonna do when you drive back on Monday?” Shoko has a good point—but what’s the harm in a little hallway crush?

“He also might be married, if he’s got a kid,” says Utahime, taking a bite out of a comically large pretzel.

“I’ll check for a wedding band. D’you think I could find a way to talk to him?” You look over to see the man tickle the boy, making him erupt into contagious little-kid giggles. 

Shoko sighs. “You’re something special, man. No, I don’t know how you’re gonna seduce a married father.”

“Not seduce, and potentially not married, either. God forbid I have a little hope, Sho.”

“I think that what Shoko is saying is to set your expectations very low,” Utahime tells you, very wisely. “If you talk, you talk, and if you don’t, you don’t. It’ll be weird if you try to force anything.”

Shoko nods in agreement. “Also, if you humiliate the shit out of yourself in front of him, we don’t know you.”

“Never seen you in our lives.” Utahime nibbles at her pretzel again. 

“Thanks, guys. I love hearing how much you appreciate and value my company.” 

“Knock ‘em dead, bro.” 

The first goal is scored, and you cheer with the other Seattle fans. Hot Dad’s son stands up, too, jumping with you. 

“Wrong team, Yuji,” he says. “We like the green ones.”

“Aww..” The boy—Yuji—pouts. “Why can’t I cheer for the blue ones?” 

“Because that’s not our team. You live here, Yuji. Don’t you wanna support people from your own state?”

“Yeah, but you live in Seattle. Why don’t you like your city?”

He lives in Seattle?! And Yuji doesn’t live with him… Maybe he’s only an uncle?

“I do like my city, but I used to live here. I grew up with this team. I’m only in Seattle so I can go to school.”

He’s in university—you wonder if you’ll see him around? Probably not. Hot Uncle will most likely stay in your fantasies.

The game finishes before you know it. Nothing interesting happens—other than Seattle winning—for the rest of the weekend. Soon, it’s time for you to go back to your city and start the new school year. 

Your first week is uneventful; it’s your second year, so you don’t need to go to all the networking events you forced yourself into attending last year. It’s just straight into lessons. 

You heard about a few different parties, but you’d rather be there with at least a few people you know, and none of your friends were interested. Satoru mentioned that he wanted to host one, so you’d go to his, but that’s about it. This year, you’re mostly focused on your grades. 

Well, that’s what you thought. All your ambitions fly out the window when a familiar tattooed face sits down next to you in your Sociology lesson. 

“This might sound crazy,” he whispers. “But were you at a hockey game last weekend?”

Holy shit. He recognizes you?

“Uh, yeah. In Minnesota, right? I think we were sitting next to each other?”

“Mhm. I was with my brother, Yuji. I knew you looked familiar. Glad to know I’m not crazy.”

You chuckle. “If it wasn’t you, I’d be a little confused. Not many pink-haired powerlifters around here.”

He laughs. “Thanks—Oh, I can’t believe I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Sukuna Ryoumen.”

You tell him your name as well. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but is cut off by your professor beginning his lecture. 

“Let’s talk later,” he mouths to you. You nod and smile to yourself.

About 30 minutes after your lecture, you have this strange feeling that you’re being followed. 

“Hey,” a familiar voice calls behind you. You were right. The speaker quickens his pace to reach you. “What’s up?”

“Nice to see you again! I don’t have much going on, just heading to the library. You?”

Sukuna shrugs. “I’ve got a class in that direction at two. Otherwise I don’t have anything.”

“It’s one forty-five, you should probably get going. Oh, but do you have plans this evening?”

“Nah, I was just gonna watch TV or something. Why do you ask?”

“My friend Satoru is throwing a party tonight. It starts at ten, if you want to join us.”

“I’m down. Here, I’ll give you my number, so you can text me the address.” Sukuna pulls a random pen out of his pocket. He reaches for your hand and scribbles his number on it. 

You laugh, ignoring the way your hand tingles where he touched it. “I’ll text you. See you tonight, hopefully?”

“See you tonight,” he agrees.

—

“Sukuna! You made it!” You wave over the giant who’s just entered the room. He towers over most of the people—he’s even taller than Satoru, and definitely bigger overall. Sukuna has the most muscle you’ve seen on a human. Something about his physique makes you want to climb him like a tree, but that’s an inside thought. 

His gravelly voice brings you back to the present. “Yeah, I’m here. Do you know where I could get a drink?”

“Sure. Why don’t you come to the kitchen with me and I’ll grab you one?” You grab his (huge, veiny, rough, masculine) hand and drag him through the crowd. 

Once you’re in the kitchen, Sukuna takes a seat on a stool at the counter. “What can I get for you, sir?” 

He smiles and you almost collapse. But you persevere. “I’ll just get a beer, thanks.”

“Alright, then I guess I’ll have one too.” You pull two random longnecks from Satoru’s fridge . You try to look cool and open them using the counter, but of course, the caps go flying. You pick them up whilst trying to regain your dignity, ignoring Sukuna’s barely concealed snicker. “Something funny?” You ask, handing him his bottle. 

“Nothing at all.” He grins at you again, and your knees start wobbling. But again, you persevere. You skirt around the counter and take a seat next to Sukuna, taking a long swig of your drink. You gag a little—it’s been too long since you last had beer, and you forgot how much of an acquired taste it is. 

“So,” Sukuna starts. “Whose house is this again?”

“My friend Satoru. He’s, like, old money rich, so his parents got him this place when he started uni. Suguru lives with him, too. Satoru dated my friend Utahime—the one who lives in Minnesota—but they decided they were better friends. And also that they were both gay.” 

“Ah. So are Satoru and Suguru…”

“Yep. I mean, I don’t think they’re official yet, but Suguru’s been into Satoru since we were kids. And they’re definitely fucking. Haven’t seen him in his own bedroom for months.”

“Oh.”

The two of you chat while you finish your beers. Sukuna actually makes great conversation. He’s funny, too. Hot and funny? He’s gotta be stupid, or something. 

“Truth or dare!”

“Truth, I guess,” you sigh. Why did you agree to play this game in the first place? If you know one thing about your friends, it’s that they really hate seeing you comfortable. 

Satoru’s grin makes your stomach churn. “If you had to fuck someone in this circle right now, who would it be?”

You glance around. Nanami, Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, Sukuna, and two girls whose names you don’t know. You only really have one option (not that you would have chosen anyone over him anyways). Your voice cracks slightly as you answer, “Sukuna.” Your cheeks flare as you feel his eyes on you, but you don’t have it in you to feel shame. 

Two rounds later, it’s Sukuna’s turn. 

Suguru asks the highly-anticipated question. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” His eyes are on you as he says it. You can feel them burning into your flesh. 

“I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the circle.”

Sukuna’s eyes are still glued to you as he stands up. He doesn’t avert his gaze, not as he offers you his hand and brings you to your feet. Especially not as he slides his hand behind your neck, burying itself into your hair. He only stops looking at you when he closes his eyes and lifts your mouth to his. 

It feels like everything you’ve ever dreamed of. His lips are shockingly soft, and they dance against yours so perfectly. Your mouth parts and his tongue slides in, caressing you so carefully yet so powerfully. It’s not long before you’re devouring each others’ faces. 

Satoru clears his throat. “I love that you guys are happy, but respectfully, please get a room.” 

The two of you pull apart quickly. You return to your respective seats and continue the game, but the vibe is a little different. Y’know, after you just sucked Sukuna’s tongue in front of five other people.

Nothing interesting happens for the rest of the game, other than Sukuna giving you sex eyes the whole time. As soon as you’re all finished, he steals you away from your conversation with Satoru. 

“Hey. Satoru, right?” Sukuna’s hand slips around your waist. “Nice party. Unfortunately, I’m here to steal this one away from you.“ He places a kiss on the top of your head. 

Satoru snorts. “She’s all yours. Oh, and all the rooms upstairs are fair game, just don’t get cream on my furniture.” 

You blush furiously as Sukuna laughs. “Thanks, man.” He guides you towards the stairs and into a hallway. 

“What was that?” you ask. “During the game, I mean.”

“Oh, you mean this?” He smirks, pulling your face up to meet his again. When your lips connect, you nearly decompose, melting into his touch. He’s gentler this time, more careful. One of his hands is behind your neck, threading through your hair, while the other pulls you in by your waist. You can feel his erection grow in between your bodies, and he’s big. You can’t help but imagine how it would feel—in your mouth, in your pussy…

You're breathless when you finally break away from the kiss, for multiple reasons. 

“Y-Yeah, I mean that,” you squeak out.

Sukuna pulls you into a random, empty bedroom and shuts the door behind you. 

His mouth meets yours yet again as he collapses with you on the bed. His lips pepper kisses along your neck , and he makes his way down your body. “Been wanting you since I met you,” he murmurs between pecks. “So fuckin’ small n’ delicate. Thinkin’ of you getting split apart on my fuckin’ cock.” 

You shiver at the thought of it. Sukuna’s fat dick pounding into you. His hands bruising your waist as he fucks up into your tiny cunt. You picture him pumping you full with his cum, overflowing your pussy with his seed. “Please,” you whine. “Fuck me, Sukuna, I need it. I’ve needed it for so long…” 

He nips at your collarbone. “Mm, gonna fuck you so good, baby. But first, I gotta get you all ready for me.” His hands run down your body, cupping your breasts through your shirt with a gentle squeeze. They trail down, all the way to your thighs. He flips your skirt up and massages the skin right next to your panties. He plants kisses on the insides of your legs, finishing with a quick peck of your clit through the fabric. Even the slightest sensation eases a moan out of you. 

“Don’t tease me,” you cry. “I want you, please!” 

“Wait, let me just grab a condom.” You deflate slightly as Sukuna pats down his pockets. 

You weren’t going to suggest this, but it looks like you might have to, considering Sukuna is still patting away.

“I’m clean. If, y’know. If you’re comfortable with that.”

His eyes light up, but then he frowns. “I haven’t gotten tested in a while. I couldn’t put you at risk.”

You hate how responsible he is. “And no condom?”

“Nope. I’m sorry. I wanted this as bad as you do.” He really does look disappointed, and so does his boner. “I’d still eat your pussy, though, if you let me.” 

“Fuck, please do. I want you so bad,” you sigh, thinking about your soaking pussy.

Sukuna groans. His rough hands grasp your thighs, pushing them apart, and he rubs a knuckle along the soaked fabric of your panties. Your cunt aches with need. Sukuna’s fingers leave your core, making you whine, but he makes up for it when he hooks his index into the waistband of your panties and tugs them down. Your pussy clenches when the cool air hits it. Sukuna presses close-mouthed kisses to the soft skin of your thighs, making his way towards where you need him the most. 

He parts your sopping folds with two fingers, and his tongue darts out to lick a stripe up your cunt. You cry out in pleasure.

“F-fuck… hnngh…! M-more, more!” you whimper. 

Sukuna continues lapping at your hole, while his hands take a bruising hold on your hips. You can feel yourself nearing your limit as he begins sucking at your swollen clit. You’re nearly screaming as your fingers find sanctuary in his hair, pulling at it as hard as you can. You think it can’t get any better, when Sukuna decides to push two fingers into your center. 

“Fuck! Fuck, I’m coming, I’m coming…”

You’re pushed off the edge as Sukuna starts thrusting with his fingers. Your pussy clenches, your body convulsing as he continues his assault on your cunt. Your vision goes white, the only thing you can feel being his tongue and his fingers. 

You recover from your orgasm, panting. Sukuna’s touch leaves your pussy, and you can feel your hole leaking. Sukuna collapses next to you, sucking your cum off his fingers. “You taste so fucking good, y’know that?” He grins as you blush. “Here, I’ll show you.” 

He grabs you by the waist and pulls you on top of him, then brings his lips up to yours, encasing them in a kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth, tangling itself with yours. The way his body feels pressing against yours is enough to satisfy you for a lifetime. 

[naomijoestar]

I see requests are open 🙏 and first of all, omfg I absolutely loved your response to my nonchalant reader confessing to Bucci gang+Trish 😭❤️ tho it left me wondering what if 👀👀 nonchalant reader is not taken seriously, so they double down with their confession by doing the exact opposite of sth casual because now they do something more elaborated, extravagant or/and even obnoxious (like fancy dinner, a big boquet of flowers, heartshaped chocolates or maybe even balloons) to make their point clear and sure to get across this time. Like !!! I meant it, I am in love with you!! but this time doing the grand gestures gets Nonchalant Reader flustered when repeating outloud that they love them

Masterlist here <3

I love this so much!!! I seriously had so much fun writing this and I hope you enjoy <3

Og post of the confession here <3

Bruno Bucciarati

The first confession over breakfast had left Bruno intrigued, but you could tell he thought you were joking. So now, you’re sitting across from him at a ridiculously fancy restaurant with chandeliers, classical music, and a waiter in a tux pouring sparkling water into crystal glasses

Bruno, ever composed, places his napkin neatly in his lap, a polite smile on his lips. “This is… unexpected,” he says smoothly. “Special occasion?”

You fidget with the edge of your menu, trying to maintain your nonchalant facade despite your flushed cheeks. “Yeah. I, uh… wanted to clarify something.”

He tilts his head, curious. “Oh?”

The words catch in your throat, but you force them out anyway. “I meant what I said. I’m… I’m in love with you.”

Bruno leans forward slightly, eyes softening, but your nerves hit like a freight train. “Like, actually,” you blurt, voice a bit too loud. “Not some breakfast joke. I got a whole table reservation and—”

The waiter appears, placing an elaborate bouquet of roses between you. You stare at it in mortification

Bruno hides a smile behind his hand. “I’m beginning to see that.”

“I panicked!” you hiss

Bruno’s laugh is warm, genuine. “You’re charming when you panic, did you know that?”

Narancia Ghirga

The first confession during video games had left Narancia completely flustered, but clearly, he thought you were messing with him. Time to up the ante

So now, you’re standing outside his window with a boombox blaring cheesy love songs, dressed way too nicely for no reason

Narancia sticks his head out the window, eyes wide. “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!”

“I LOVE YOU!” you yell over the music, face burning but fully committed. “LIKE, FOR REAL!”

The neighbors are already peeking through their windows, and you’re regretting every second of this decision

Narancia bursts out laughing, leaning on the windowsill. “Wait, you’re serious?! Oh my god, you’re insane!”

“I KNOW!” you yell back, hands shaking as you fumble with the boombox to turn it off. “But I meant it!”

He grins so wide it makes your embarrassment almost worth it. “You didn’t have to do all this, dummy. I already like you too.”

You freeze. “…Oh?”

“Yeah! But this was awesome.”

Guido Mista

The kitchen confession had gone over way too casually. So now, you’ve decided to go full drama mode—heart-shaped chocolates, flowers, and a cheesy handwritten card are all set on the table

Mista walks in, blinks at the sight, then bursts out laughing. “What’s all this? Valentine’s Day come early?”

You groan, already regretting this. “I’m trying to be serious here, Mista.”

He grins, picking up the card. “Aw, you even wrote me a love letter?” He reads it aloud with way too much enthusiasm

You slap a hand over your face, cheeks burning. “Okay, okay, stop.”

Mista cackles, setting the card down. “You’re so flustered, it’s kinda cute.”

You glare at him. “I’m in love with you, idiot.”

His teasing expression falters for just a second before softening. “Yeah, I know,” he says, smiling warmly now. “I just wanted to see you get all worked up first.”

Fugo Pannacotta

Fugo’s intense logical nature means your first confession barely registered. So now, you’re standing in front of him holding a massive bouquet of flowers, wearing an outfit that makes you feel like an awkward rom-com protagonist

He blinks at you, visibly confused. “What is this?”

“I’m clarifying my previous statement,” you say stiffly, shoving the bouquet toward him

He cautiously takes it, looking between you and the flowers like you’ve just handed him a bomb. “Why?”

“Because,” you mutter, shifting on your feet, “you didn’t believe me. I meant it, Fugo. I’m in love with you.”

Your face feels like it’s on fire as you force the words out. Fugo’s expression shifts from confusion to realization, and his ears turn bright red

“You didn’t need to do all this,” he mutters, looking away

“Well, you weren’t getting it,” you snap, embarrassed

He glances back at you, a rare, shy smile tugging at his lips. “I get it now.”

Giorno Giovanna

The garden confession had been brushed off too smoothly, so now you’ve set up a full candlelit dinner. Roses, soft music, and a carefully plated meal—the works

Giorno enters, visibly surprised but composed as ever. “This is… elaborate.”

“Yeah, well,” you mumble, pulling out a chair for him. “Needed to make a point.”

He sits gracefully, watching you with amusement. “And that point is?”

You sit across from him, heart racing. “I love you,” you say, voice cracking slightly. “Like, really love you. Not just some random garden comment.”

His eyes soften, and a small smile graces his lips. “You’ve certainly made your feelings clear.”

“Good,” you mutter, poking at your food

He reaches across the table, taking your hand gently. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “I was never confused—just waiting for you to realize how much this means to you.”

Leone Abbacchio

After your nonchalant confession was brushed off, you decided to go all out. Now, you’re standing awkwardly in front of Abbacchio with a gift bag and a bottle of expensive wine

He raises an eyebrow. “What’s this supposed to be?”

“A… grand gesture,” you say, voice cracking slightly

He crosses his arms, unimpressed. “You feeling okay?”

“No,” you grumble. “This is stupid. I don’t know why I—whatever, here.” You shove the gift bag toward him

He takes it reluctantly, pulling out a small, heart-shaped card. The corner of his mouth twitches. “Seriously?”

“I love you,” you blurt out, feeling like you might actually combust. “Happy now?”

He stares at you for a long moment before letting out a low chuckle. “You really went all out, huh?”

“I panicked,” you admit miserably

“Well,” he says, smirking, “I guess I’m flattered.”

Trish Una

After your casual confession, Trish had brushed it off with disbelief. So now, you’re standing outside her dressing room with balloons, chocolates, and a handwritten love letter

She opens the door, takes one look at you, and blinks. “What is this?”

“I’m making a point,” you mutter, cheeks burning. “I meant it. I’m in love with you.”

Trish raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You’re blushing.”

“I know,” you groan. “This is embarrassing, okay?”

She crosses her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “So you really love me, huh?”

“Yes!” you snap. “God, don’t make me say it again.”

Trish laughs, stepping closer. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect this. But I guess it’s kind of cute.”

“Great. Glad you’re entertained.”

She grins. “I’ll take the chocolates, though. And maybe we can talk about this over dinner—my treat.”

If you’d like any tweaks let me know! I hope you enjoyed this cz I found it so cute <3

If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific written for a jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!

[reneedenoailles]

Un Désir Assassin.

first entry for the rc-catalog valentines event !!

decided to go with the prompt unrequited love for feb 2.

fandom: vying for versailles. pairing: renée/alexandre. (unrequited.) rating: M. word count: 1270 words. trigger warnings: unhealthy obsession, mentions of murder, stalker behavior. MC: isabelle, hedonism path, single, unrequitedly obsessed with the valet. summary: he's got those eyes that drive her crazy, and she's got eyes to watch him sleep. or, a treaty on obsession. special taglist: @liykaii (who made the banner thank you so much, love you kiki <3)

Sigh. He couldn't find the words. Bent over his letter, he continued to mindlessly dip the feather in the inkwell — before his eyebrow raised. Did he just hear a creak ?

Wordlessly, he turned around in his chair. Had he not been the spymaster that he was, the rustling would've gone unnoti—

"Isabelle."

One simple name spoken into the air. And yet, that was enough. The rustling got louder, clearly an attempt from the duchess to hide as he stood up, in his shirtsleeves.

"There is no need to hide. What are you doing ?"

Truth be told, this was a rhetorical question. He knew what she was doing, he knew why she was here. That being said, he didn't like it one bit.

That's when Isabelle, despite her attempts, finally revealed her hiding spot from under his bedsheets, dusting off her gown.

"I got lost."

"And, let me guess — tripped, fell into my bed, which followed to my sheets being possessed by who knows what devil trying to murder you ?"

...Perhaps Isabelle should have thought of a better strategy, or at least a better excuse. She stood there, embarrassed about being caught — but the flush of shame on her cheeks was quickly overtaken by a flush of desire.

She wanted him. She needed him. It ate away at her — the fact that he was never responsive towards her advances, she couldn't help but wonder if the problem lied within herself or within himself.

What could he not want ? She was beautiful, young, witty, wealthy — Oh my god. Perhaps he wanted someone else.

That's when her desire was replaced with burning hot jealousy, raging in her green eyes. Had someone else ensnared him ? She had to find a way to —

"Mademoiselle."

His stern voice snapped her out of her reverie, looking up at him, unable to hide her scowl.

"You can't deny what has grown between us, valet."

"Between us ? The only thing between us is the king, whom we both serve. There is no us, Isabelle."

"No us ? So I mean nothing to you ?"

"That is not what I —"

"Are your eyes set on someone else ?"

She sharply asked the question, threateningly taking one step closer to him, then another — Alexandre backing away in response, his back against the table which she kept him pinned against.

Her chest pushed against his, her eyes throwing daggers. How she wished she could take one of those daggers and stick it through his heart, tear it apart, piece by piece to see what preoccupied it.

Silence followed her question — and to her, that could only mean one thing.

She was right.

SHE WAS RIGHT !

Usually, she loved being right — but not this time. This time, she had been hoping to be wrong.

Meanwhile, Alexandre silently mused over what Isabelle could be thinking about, brewing up in that brain of hers — nothing good, at least that's what he was sure of.

"No."

He responded, his heart being... troubled. He knew he wasn't in love — so why was that word so... uncertain ? He wasn't unsure, was he ? Of course he wasn't — Louis didn't want him to fall in love, so why would he ?

Clearing his throat.

"No."

"You hesitated."

"Get out, mademoiselle."

He frowned at her, trying to appear threatening, but knowing that in front of her determined gaze, he could crumble.

Silently swallowing.

The silence was palpable, you could cut through it with a butter knife.

"I'm afraid you've had too much wine at the Prince's party," He said, fully aware that she was sober, trying desperately to hang onto the slight hint of rationality that this situation could benefit from. But part of him knew it was futile — you can't explain this situation with logic. The heart wins over the head, and the head falls in defeat.

"And I fear you long for a closeness that is not the one we should have."

"Is my status a problem ?"

"The problem is that I don't love you, Isabelle. And I fear your desire for closeness is leading you to see things that aren't there."

So he was calling her crazy. That's how he wanted to play it. Okay. She backed away, tempted to throw everything, grab a letter opener and stab him — or maybe grab him by the hair and throw him face first into the fire of the chimney ! No one makes a duchess feel this humiliated — especially not Isabelle de Noailles of all people.

But she stopped. Despite her spontaneous desires of destruction, she restrained herself. This was not over. He would love her, one way or another. This idea that his heart had been stolen by someone else bothered her a lot. He was hers. Hers ! HERS !

If she couldn't have him, no one would.

Turning away — not saying goodbye before she left for her room, feeling her heart break.

She had known many lovers. Many men, and women, who she could bed with. And yet, her eyes reserved themselves to him — the one thing she couldn't obtain. Did the gods enjoy toying with her like this ?

Isabelle made her way back to her room, to hopefully get the Moon's advice, and a good night's rest. She couldn't believe that she had — crumbled like this, in front of him ? How she wished she could undo it. It killed her that she couldn't have everything she wanted, as much as she tried. Wine, parties, dancing, arts, beautiful gowns and expensive jewelry — all of those meant nothing if she couldn't be with the man she loved.

But someone else would.

With that lingering thought running through her head, she went to bed.

Meanwhile, Alexandre's chest heaved up and down, looking around the room, slowly sliding to the ground.

His knees felt weak. His breathing was uneven. He didn't want to admit it — especially not to Isabelle — but he feared for his life in that moment. And rightfully so, the mademoiselle's hedonism was something to fear. Besides, he knew she was capable of disposing of him if she so desired. Desire is a powerful force, and so is lust — Louis of all people knew it best.

Louis. What would he do, without Alexandre ? Had he died, would he have missed his faithful valet ? Would he mourn ? Be sad, attend his burial ? Even organize one for him ? Or would he simply not bother ? Replace Alexandre as he does with all his other mistresses ? Why would he compare himself to those women ?

And yet, thoughts creeped in intrusively. What would it be like, to have Louis of all people miss him ? The driving force of France, missing him ? Begging for him to be back if he were gone ? Wearing black for his valet ? Why could he not push all repulsive thoughts away from his brain ?

Standing up, wiping his hands over his shirtsleeves, as if they were dirty, as if he was trying to get something off of them.

And that's when he realized. Something brutal, something he couldn't deal with, something that he was never going to admit. Something that would change the way he looked at himself in the mirror for the rest of his life.

Staring at the letter he was writing in horror, the feather dipped in ink suddenly resembling the golden apple that caused the Trojan war, lasting for ten years, destroying so many lives in the process, ending with the burning of the city.

He felt his eyes burn, each word on that letter addressed to the king changing, making him pale in terror.

He knew who he loved, and it wasn't Isabelle, or any courtier.

It was the King himself.

[misswhowrite]

the happy accident

Summary: Fred meets a muggle who will change his life.

(English isn’t my first language!!)

Fred could recall the exact moment he fell in love with his girlfriend, the moment he saw her he knew she was perfect. Their first meeting was special but he wouldn’t change it, he remembered each details.

It was a beautiful day at the shop for the twins, it was full of people who needed a good joke. Children were running everywhere, George was busy at the register with Verity and Fred was helping around the shop until he felt a tug at his vest. It was a little boy, around twelve, he looked around with frightened eyes. 

“_ Can you help me? I-i lost my sister and she doesn’t know much about this world and I didn’t mean to loose her I was just looking at the prank shelf and then she wasn’t there!

_ Okay buddy, calm down. What does your sister look like? I’ll help search for her.

_ She is small compared to you and she has brown hair, she wears a purple shirt… and I don’t remember anything else.

_That’s good okay. And her name?

_ Y/N”

Turns out they didn’t have to search because the little boy name was screamed across the shop, many times by a small woman looking panicked. When she finally saw her her brother she was relieved but became really flustered when she saw the young man beside her brother. And Fred was looking bashfully at the beauty before him.

“_Thanks god you’re here Paul! I thought you were gone and I didn’t if somebody took you!

_I’m sorry Sissy, I was looking at the shelf and I didn���t mean to loose you. But Fred was going to help me. 

_Thanks you mister Fred!

_Anything for a pretty lady like you and her brother. Name’s Fred and I’m one of the owner of the shop.

_Oh well thanks you Fred but we have to go, Paul here has to pack for Hod-Hor...The school! I’m sorry I don’t know much about this…

_Well I could help you if want, just owl me. I mean if you have an owl, or I could owl you first and you can tell me when we could meet.

_That would be great, I’ll wait for your owl then.”

When George saw Fred writing to someone everyday, he was suspicious and he found the stash of letters, some from a month ago, he red all of them and saw a side of his brother he didn’t knew. The other writer, named Y/N or Love, seemed to not be a witch but Fred was patient with her, George knew he would tease his brother but he was happy that Fred found someone. 

Fred and Y/N met again a month later, they were both exited and couldn’t wait to see each other. Fred showed her more of the wizard world and in exchange, Y/N showed the muggle world (he was perplex about the pictures not moving!) and she showed him her little library. Their little getaways happened many times, until Fred asked her to be his girlfriend on the seventh date. He, of course, asked with fireworks on a cute little picnic. 

Y/N didn’t meet his family until the three months mark, she saw George once or twice when she met Fred at the shop, but Fred never introduced him officially. So when he asked if she wanted to meet his family, she said yes. The burrow was magical for her, seeing everything move in the air was a bit weird at first, Molly did everything she could to make her feel at home and Arthur talked her ear off about the muggle things he had. Fred’s siblings were a bit septic at first but warm up after getting to know her. George had to interrogate her, she was so nervous but when he laughed she was relieved. Everything went fine to the great pleasure of Fred, he could finally feel a weight leave his shoulders, his girlfriend was accepted by his family and he couldn’t be happier.

Fred and Y/n’s relationship was great, they both showed each others love and a new side of the world, they had their ups and downs but at the end they solved things. Sometimes she helped in the shop or Fred would be with her in her library. They were different but they completed each others beautifully. 

[deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist]

Quinn is so happy his Auntie Wayne is writing again, because when I cackle reading something and wake him up, he gets reparation treats! This was the first one: “What d’you say, sweetheart? You taking me back?” / “You rolled your eyes at his antics. “Guess I have to. God knows returning you is impossible.”

“While you could see some similarities between the brothers, you took note of one big difference: Russell wasn’t as sarcastic and sharp-tongued. Probably because Russell had always been more concerned with what he should, would, or could share with people in an overthinking loop, while his younger brother seemed obviously free of that burden.” What a great way to describe the difference between the boys!

“Look, you weren’t exactly welcoming during our first meeting,” Russell argued with a bit of bark in his deep voice, although confrontation was probably not the best approach. But why should he always have to take the blame for everything? He’d already done that for more than two decades.” He’s such a good big brother, but damn, he shouldn’t have to keep doing that.

Quinn got a second one (he’s 13ish, but he’s managing to fall asleep in record time) “He’d come along way from the sweet boy you had once teased like a special-forces-trained kindergartner.” for both that and “Aw, aren’t you guys adorable,” you teased. / “Colter wanted to retort something dry-witted, but Russell held up a warning finger. “Ah – wait for it… Trust me. She���s not done.” / “You girls need tissues or a tampon, maybe?” / “Oh, Dory would definitely like her,” Colter repeated his earlier statement with an amused grin.” I cackled!! My kind of woman - and Russell’s, too, obviously.

Quinn got another treat at “This is less becoming a friendly ‘welcome-to-the-neighborhood’ dinner and more starting to look like an orgy to the neighbors. Especially since you’ve put on the robe.” Dude - it was out of the dryer, don’t hate because you’re jealous!

“Wouldn’t do that, baby,” you murmured into his ear with an amused smirk. “That boner’s not gonna go away in five minutes.” Bwahaha!!!

And then, in glorious Wayne fashion, you pull out the emotional sucker punches - broke my heart at “Well, shortly after that, I had a breakdown and I-… I almost hurt her.” He choked on the words, fighting the sting in his eyes… He had convinced himself you’d be better off without him – something he still believed to be true – but he also knew he wasn’t better off without you.” Damn! That whole internal monologue made me want to ply him with whiskey and hugs.

“You know, you’re not crazy like Dad was, Russ. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re crazy in your own way, but I wouldn’t worry about the other stuff.” Ooof!! Would love to know what the “or something” was - that’s going to be an emotionally-charged discussion when they finally have it.

And this also packed a punch:”Granted, the confession stung more than Russell would ever be willing to admit. The tiny, naive part inside of him had constructed a hopeless fantasy of his mother having a sudden change of heart over the last two decades and happily welcoming her firstborn back. Apparently, not a thing had changed, though, and he cursed himself for feeling disheartened.” My poor Russell! I want to kick Mommy Dearest in the teeth.

“I think whatever Dad was involved in – or both of ‘em – was just some activist shit. I don’t think the government cares.” Lie. “We both know he had a mental thing. Paranoid, probably schizophrenic… I mean, Mom used to pump him full of meds sometimes when he got too out of hand.” Truth. He then stole a glance at his little brother and saw the confusion shimmering on his face. Russell scoffed. “You didn’t know that, did you?” Yet another reason not to like Mommy Dearest…

And those last two lines…damn! Damn, this is so damn good, Wayne!!! I love this so much!! (Quinn does too!)

The Exit Strategy – Part 4

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there’s one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, fluff, some angst & feels, family secrets, spy stuff, a bit of spiciness

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: Welcome back, friends! We're diving a bit into Shaw family secrets this week – fully Wayne's version, though. While I did read the books, there's no major spoilers**, so don't you worry. I just played with an idea here 🤓 I also won't be fully diving into the Shaw family life, but some things are heavily hinted to be... fishy here 👀 Enjoy & let me know what you think! 🤍

**There's a small part where Russell tells Colter about their parents. It's mentioned in the books that their mother was a psychiatrist. I took that and ran with it 🤷‍♀️

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 4: This Is Not an Exit

“You’ve been walking down memory lane a lot tonight,” you teased with a nudge of his ribs, still tightly cuddled in his warm embrace in the freezing basement.

“Haven’t you?”

“No, I have,” you admitted with a melancholic sigh. “Maybe we should stop dwelling on the past so much. Think more about the future…”

Russell scoffed a small chuckle. “Dory said something similar not that long ago. Actually the reason why I came here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, his fingers absently drawing circles on your arm. “I think it’s time we retire, sweetheart. I mean, after everything we’ve been through, I think we deserve to, right? You know, sometimes I wake up in the morning, and I’m surprised we’re even still here, considering how many war zones we’ve been in.”

“Well, you know what they say – beware the old soldier because he’s old for a reason,” you said with a smile.

“Yeah, think I might be getting a little too old…” Russell chucked lightly, running a hand through his long hair. “So? What d’you think? One last hurrah, and then we hang this up? I was thinking maybe we could open up a brewery, you know? A family place. Bet the kids would love it.”

“Sounds nice,” you said with a yearning smile. You wanted all of that and more. “I’d love to retire with you.”

“But?”

You laughed slightly at his anticipating look. “But I don’t think you can yet.”

His eyebrows drew together till they met above the bridge of his freckled nose. “What d’you mean? I just told you I’m ready.”

“You say you are, but you aren’t,” you replied like the annoying Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. “Have you solved the murder yet?”

Russell licked his lips, which was his telltale sign that you caught him there. After all, you knew him better than anyone in this world – knowing when he needed to be pushed and shoved was part of it.

“No, but I don’t need to anymore. Look, the only reason I wanted to solve it was because I thought I had to prove my innocence to Colter. And well, turns out I didn’t. He believed me anyways, so…”

“That wasn’t the only reason,” you reminded him with a scrutinizing look.

“Maybe, but like I said – Dory thinks we should keep all this bullshit in the past, and after the last three years, I’m starting to agree with her,” Russell said, dragging a hand over his face.

“Look, if that’s what you want–”

“It’s what I want,” he assured you and placed a hand on your thigh, gently squeezing it. “Having my little brother and sister back is enough. I don’t need more. Nothing good ever comes from being greedy.”

You nodded in understanding, clearing your throat. “Still, in the name of our deal to always be honest, I kinda have to confess something.”

Rising from your seat, you dusted off your awful, flowery skirt and wandered to the wall safe once more, retrieving a thick folder from it. You took your place next to Russell again, his questioning eyes meeting yours as you handed him your research.

“When you didn’t come back after a year or so, I started looking into it as well. Might have done a full deep-dive,” you admitted with a bite of your lip.

Russell shot you a chiding look, shaking his head, but most of all, he was worried. “I told you to leave it alone. You don’t know what sorta people we’re dealing with here, but we do know they’re dangerous.”

“I know. I just wanted to help. Figured I could speed it along. I do have more access than you,” you countered softly. “I’m sorry, okay? But I was careful. I promise.”

“Good,” he said and looked at you, interlacing your fingers with his. “‘Cause the last thing I want is losing you over this bullshit, too.”

Nodding, you squeezed his hand in reassurance. “There’s something you should know, though.” He raised his brow anew – you’d always been full of surprises. Life certainly had never been boring. “Someone accessed the files after me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Definitely had a higher clearance than me, though,” you replied.

Russell threw his arms up, and you could see he was getting more upset again. “See? This is what I’m talking about! The whole point of us separating was to keep you and the kids away from it. Otherwise, we could’ve just stayed together, and I could’ve joined Horizon anyways.”

“I know that, too,” you said remorsefully. “But don’t worry. I wasn’t followed, and no one ever came after me. I made sure of it. It’s been two years now. They probably figured it was nothing after I didn’t reach out to you straight away.”

“Still… I don’t want you involved, alright?”

“What about Colter? Doesn’t he want to know? He doesn’t strike me as someone who just lets things go,” you noted observantly.

Russell clicked his tongue – a sign of defeat. “He isn’t, but he’s not gonna find anything either. I mean, the only reason I know is because you were so relentless and kept digging.”

“You haven’t told him what we found out?”

Russell licked his lips and admitted quietly, “No. I don’t think it does anyone any good to keep looking into this.”

Leaning forward and hugging your knees, your head bobbed pensively. “I thought you guys talked about what happened?”

“We did. Kinda… It’s complicated,” he stated, swallowing. “Dory was easy, you know? I guess she never really believed it… But it took a while till Colter even picked up the phone, let alone answered a goddamn text message. Had to get a little annoying.”

You smirked. “Well, you’re good at that. That’s how you won me over.”

“By being persistent?”

“Exactly. Like a tardigrade.” You grinned. “I mean, you kind of are doing it now again, too.”

He chuckled quietly. “Yeah, guess so.”

“Is that why you haven’t told him about me and the kids? Because you’re not sure about him yet?”

“Partially, yeah,” he admitted. “I guess I wanted to protect you. And maybe myself a little, too… Not sure I’m ready for those two worlds to meet yet, you know? I mean, you and the kids are the best things that ever happened to me, and when I look at Colter or Dory, I’m sometimes reminded of the worst things in my life.”

“What about your mother?”

Russell let out an exhaustive sigh that was half amused. “Geez, you haven’t changed a bit. You still ask the most uncomfortable questions possible.”

You laughed a little. “Gathering intelligence in uncomfortable ways is kind of my job, Shaw.”

“Yup, and no one’s better at it than you, sweetheart,” Russell quipped.

“So I’m guessing it’s a no on Mommie Dearest?”

Russell licked his lips, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna see her. Mostly because I don’t even know what to fucking say anymore,” he said. “I don’t want her to meet the kids either.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him and took his hand in yours. “It’s your choice, Russ. We go at your pace, alright?”

“Thank you.” Russell brought your intertwined hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand before he looked at you deeply, a smile dancing across his plump lips. “I love you.”

You mirrored his smile, your heart fluttering like a wild butterfly in your chest. “I love you, too.”

“I’ll tell them – Dory and Colter. I want this to work,” he promised. “Just… after we finish this. I want him to have a clear head. I prefer not to get him killed, you know?”

“I get it. I thought the same thing when I first met you, too,” you joked, patting his chest. “But you brought him into this. It’s kinda on you.”

Russell scratched his bearded chin. “Yeah, but I didn’t exactly know what I’d bring him into.”

“Didn’t you, though?”

Amused, Russell bobbed his head. “Yeah, maybe I did,” he acknowledged. “You know, when Manny called me–”

Your eyes widened. “Manny called you?”

Russell blinked at you, brow creased in confusion. “Yeah, why?”

“That motherfucker…”

Furiously, you stomped to the desk and grabbed the radio. “Drone-5. This is Queen Bee-1. Report to Hive.”

The static of the radio cracked almost instantly, as if the idiot had been waiting all night for this call. “Yo, Queen Bee-1. How’s my boy?” Manny’s laugh echoed through the basement.

Russell’s glowing cheeks reached his eyes when he heard his friend’s voice. He’d known the guy almost as long as Doug.

“You’re the one who fucking told him?!” you yelled into the radio, almost crushing the device in your hand.

“To be fair, I told him not to engage with tango,” Manny sheepishly replied.

“Ha-ha, funny. Fuck you,” you huffed and tossed Russ the walkie-talkie. He caught it with one hand.

His boyish grin widened as he pushed the button. “You know, Drone-5, you could’ve told me you were actually working this thing.”

“Aw, you know I can’t do that. But I guess congrats on crashing another operation. You’re Worker Bee-3 now. Old habits die hard, huh?” Manny chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess…” Russell replied with a lighthearted chuckle, but his teeth tugged pensively at his lips.

“Great to have you back, brother. Hope this works out for you. See you on the other side, man. Oh, and could you move like three feet to the left and turn the washer off? We can barely hear and see you guys, and Drone-2 just ran out to grab popco–”

“No, absolutely not. Out,” you snapped as you grabbed the radio from Russ. He laughed as you put it furiously back on the desk. You knew what you had signed up for, but you still deserved some privacy. Annoyed, you took off your cross necklace – another bug – and settled down beside him again.

“What did he say when he called you?”

“Nothing much, really. Just told me your coordinates and that you like to pick up your mail at three o’clock at the local post office,” Russell replied.

You shook your head, smiling. “Well, he always loved you, so…” You started to chew on your lower lip, the anxiety in your belly returning. For the sake of your mind and heart, you had to make sure Russell was fully back, and this wasn’t just a fluke. “You know, I worry sometimes that if you don’t face this thing with your family, you’ll always feel this way. I mean, after Lewis was born–”

“I know.” Russell nodded, swallowing thickly. He saw the worry shimmering in your eyes, and it cracked his heart a little. “I know I kinda lost it there. Took me by surprise, too. Trust me. Figured I had dealt with all that shit already, you know? But I guess seeing you with him and feeling all that love myself, I just-… I don’t know. I don’t know how she could do it… Ashton was one thing, but she just stood by. And I don’t even know what the hell she was up to while he took us out into those woods…” He shook his head as if to rattle the answer out of his brain. “And then when we found out you were pregnant again… I mean, I’d barely held it together with Lewis. Everything just became a blur. I couldn’t think straight anymore, and I worried all the time I’d be like them…”

“I tried to help,” you said softly.

“I know you did. Guess this was just something I had to figure out on my own,” he replied with a beat shrug.

“How’s your vision now? Still blurry?”

“Clearer than ever.” A smile flickered alive on his lips, green eyes boring into yours as he leaned in and kissed you slowly like he meant every word. Blowing a raspberry, he then turned his attention to the file in his lap. “So, what am I gonna find in there?”

“Honestly, nothing we haven’t already puzzled together,” you replied, teeth gnawing on your bottom lip. “But I found a couple of names associated with your parents. Thought maybe you could look at them and see if you recognize the person you saw in the woods.”

“I already know where this is going…”

“Russ, please, just–”

Russell interrupted you, placing a soothing palm on your thigh that curbed your enthusiasm. “I’ll think about it, alright?”

Satisfied, you raised two placating hands. “All I was asking…”

“How was the lasagna?”

After four hours in the basement, you and Russell quietly treaded up the stairs a few minutes after midnight, finding Colter in the kitchen, eating leftovers out of the ceramic form in the warm glow of the stove light. Tom, on the other hand, had passed out on the couch, only the blue flickers of the TV and the soft noises of a peaceful nature documentary filling the silence of the dark living room.

“Excellent,” Colter stated, swallowing down a mouthful of lasagna before speaking. “I told Tom he should be a chef in a restaurant or something.”

Russell’s brow knitted in doubt. “Really? Lemme try.”

“You just ate two entire bags of junk. You can’t still be hungry,” you argued with a giggle, shaking your head.

“It’s lasagna,” Russell said simply, grabbed a fork from the drawer, and dove right in.

That man would eat anything. You’d seen him do it, too. He didn’t even go hungry when he was lost in a desert.

“Wow, that is good,” Russell announced his judgement with a full mouth. “Maybe we should hire Tom for the brewery, huh?”

“I’m guessing this means you two talked?” Colter asked with a carefully arched brow.

“Hmm. I don’t know,” Russell mused in jest. “What d’you say, sweetheart? You taking me back?”

You rolled your eyes at his antics. “Guess I have to. God knows returning you is impossible.”

Russell laughed and slung an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. He kissed your temple.

But then you noticed Colter’s smile falter, his brows creasing in question. “Is your hair different?”

“Shit!”

Wide-eyed, you bolted back down the creaking stairs to the basement, hearing Russell’s laughter fill the kitchen.

“Was she wearing a wig? And her eyes too, right?” Puzzled, Colter tried to piece it all together. He had already figured by your extensive vocabulary of swear words that you might be a better match for his older brother than he had initially surmised.

“Yup, all fake, man,” Russell confirmed and smirked. “Still think she’s not my type yet?”

“No, I can see it now,” Colter admitted, chuckling. “So, you guys are good?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Russell nodded and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, swallowing.

Colter’s smile widened, filling the older Shaw’s stomach with more guilt. “That’s great. Happy for you, man. Guess that means you’re retiring now, huh?”

Russell scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, we’ll see. Always depends on what the wife decides, you know?”

Yup, he sprinkled that important bit of information into a joke. Then, he watched his little brother take a stumped step back, brow furrowing and unfurrowing and then furrowing again.

“Wha-, wife?”

Russell produced a popping sound with his lips like the noise of a bottle when the cork was pulled. Welp, this bottle was surely open now.

“Yup, got married in Thailand in 2011,” he added another helpful tidbit of information, but Colter’s jaw dislodged all the same.

“Alright, got this all figured out,” you said, sauntering back into the kitchen with a pastel pink towel wrapped around your head and a matching bathrobe. You’d just grabbed them from the dryer, the fluffy material still cozily warm. It was the best option, considering you didn’t want to mess around with your wig as well after popping the lenses back in had already cost you most of your patience. In your little bubble of bliss, you hadn’t instantly noticed the brothers staring at you. But once you did, your brows morphed into a frown. “What’s going on?”

“You two are married?” Colter asked, a pointed finger flicking from Russell to you.

You threw your arms up, looking at your husband. “I was gone for five minutes! What happened to telling him after the operation?”

Russell offered you a sheepish shrug. “Well, this old soldier’s getting weak too, apparently.”

“He said it like a joke…” Colter mumbled, still in the middle of processing this new revelation. His older, estranged-but-now-less-strange brother had a wife. A family. Friends. And he knew none of it. What else was there? Kids?

“Yeah, he does that...” You shot your husband a scolding sideways look. “Should I leave you two alone for this?” you then offered, hoping the answer was a goddamn yes.

“Why would you? You’re family, right?” Colter retorted with a dry smile and a sharp look.

You pursed your lips. While you could see some similarities between the brothers, you took note of one big difference: Russell wasn’t as sarcastic and sharp-tongued. Probably because Russell had always been more concerned with what he should, would, or could share with people in an overthinking loop, while his younger brother seemed obviously free of that burden.

“Don’t take it out on her,” Russell stepped in gently, which really was a warning. “She didn’t know about any of this. Kinda pushed her into it.”

“Seems to be your style,” Colter scoffed.

“Can’t work for the CIA without going through a baptism of fire, little brother,” Russell said simply, giving an unapologetic shrug of his shoulders.

“Why would you not tell me?” Colter stared at him, his look a mix of reproach and agitation.

“Look, you weren’t exactly welcoming during our first meeting,” Russell argued with a bit of bark in his deep voice, although confrontation was probably not the best approach. But why should he always have to take the blame for everything? He’d already done that for more than two decades.

“That was months ago,” Colter countered, scowling. “I’d like to think I’ve come around since then… Coulda told me after we saved Doug.”

Russell let out a small sigh of defeat, rolling his eyes back slightly. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No, yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry, man, alright?” he apologized earnestly.

With a questioning brow, you carefully nudged your husband’s arm. “What happened to Doug? Is he alright?”

“Yeah, uh, he went to work for Horizon with me. I’ll tell you later, okay?” Russell replied, his voice a lot quieter as if sharing a secret, and if Horizon was involved he probably was.

“Is Tracy okay?”

“She’s fine. Little shook up. You should probably give her a call. Smooth things out,” Russell told you.

Tracy thought you worked in marketing at some company for the government. Whenever you, Russell, and Doug were stuck on a mission, the boys made you call her to “smooth things out” – aka reassuring her everything was certainly fine with her husband and he wasn't in any danger at all. They’d once made you call her from a Black Hawk. The noise had been fun to explain away – you’d told her you were picking up a client from a helicopter pad.

Colter chewed on the insides of his cheeks. “So she knows Doug, too?”

Russell nodded. “Yeah, me and Doug were mostly Delta, but SAD liked to borrow us from time to time. We ran in her team for quite a while. She was actually the one who recruited me.”

At his little wink your way, you smiled. He’d come along way from the sweet boy you had once teased like a special-forces-trained kindergartner.

“Listen, things were obviously a little complicated between me and her the last few years,” Russell (under)stated. “But I’ve brought you here for a reason, okay? Figured it’s time you meet your sister-in-law.”

Eyes drifting from you to Russell, Colter pursed his lips – a tell he shared with his brother.

“Are you mad? I can’t tell.” Frowning, Russell tilted his head.

“No,” you absentmindedly replied for Colter, who gave you a curious look but steered his attention back to Russell.

“No,” the younger Shaw repeated your assumption. “I mean, not more than I was before, you know?”

Russell’s creases only deepened. “No, I don’t know.”

“He means he’s indifferent about knowing or not knowing we’re married because he’s already pissed about not knowing about my existence in general,” you explained.

“Ah. Your nerd is showing, sweetheart,” Russell teased you with a smile that made your heart melt.

“Dory would like her,” Colter commented like the thought had just popped into his head – something else he didn’t share with his brother.

You’d always wondered about the youngest Shaw of the three. Russell could never tell you much about Dory. His memory had been one of a smart and feisty nine-year-old, not a young woman and physics professor.

Thumbing at you, Russell cocked a brow at his brother. “Is she right, though?”

“Spot on, actually.” Colter’s tongue poked his cheek, his gaze flickering with a hint of astonishment and new-found respect for you. “And I guess I’m not really mad either way. Just… surprising, you know? I should’ve asked. That’s on me.”

Russell seemed more than a little baffled to hear this, considering he had to pause to find an appropriate response. “No, uh, we’re good. I could’ve just told you, anyways.”

“Yeah, no, that’s alright.” Colter swallowed, sending his older brother a smile of forgiveness. “Honestly, I was glad to hear you weren’t alone all this time, so…”

Russell’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he pushed down the lump in his throat. With a nod, he averted his green eyes to the kitchen floor. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

“Aw, aren’t you guys adorable,” you teased.

Colter wanted to retort something dry-witted, but Russell held up a warning finger. “Ah – wait for it… Trust me. She’s not done.”

“You girls need tissues or a tampon, maybe?”

“Oh, Dory would definitely like her,” Colter repeated his earlier statement with an amused grin.

Russell, on the other hand, shot you a pointed look, but that had barely ever stopped you before. “Okay, you can lay down. You don’t have to give him the initiation. No hazing my little brother,” he ordered you sternly, and you stifled a snort. “And no one better kidnaps him tonight and puts a bag over his head, alright? I don’t wanna pick him up beaten and bloody from some warehouse tomorrow morning.”

“Hm, what?” Colter’s brow furrowed. For the first time, you could see slight panic spread in his pupils.

Who was hazing who now?

You rolled your eyes in feigned annoyance. “Fine, we’ll leave him alone,” you acted your capitulation.

The younger Shaw blinked at you. “Thank you?”

“Should we at least tell him about the other thing while we’re at it?” you asked Russell with a suggestive look.

Thoughtfully, he paused for a beat, then clicked his tongue. “No, I got it from here. It’s getting late. We’ve been here long enough,” he decided. “This is less becoming a friendly ‘welcome-to -the-neighborhood’ dinner and more starting to look like an orgy to the neighbors. Especially since you’ve put on the robe.”

“It just came from the dryer. Look, it’s so soft and warm,” you argued, pouting, your palms caressing the fluffy material on your arms.

“Uh-huh.”

The little bob of his Adam’s apple made you grin slyly. The way his jaw ticked and his pupils widened with a primal hunger, you could tell he wanted to tear that robe right off of you. The thought caused a shudder to run down your spine.

“What, uh, other thing do you have to tell me?” Colter asked and smiled expectantly, tapping his fingers on the the counter.

Russell, however, grabbed his arm and dragged his curious little brother toward the exit. “I’ll tell you in the car,” he said and thumbed to the front door behind his shoulder. “Wait outside. Gimme five minutes, alright?”

Wordlessly, Colter nodded without argument, gave you a quick goodbye-wave of his hand, and strolled leisurely back to his car as if he knew exactly what his older brother intended to do.

As expected, Russell impatiently conquered your lips, roughly pressing you against the foyer’s wall, your arms draping around his neck.

“What’s the bedroom situation in this place?” he asked between kisses.

“First floor, west side, third window from the right. I’ll leave it unlatched,” you replied, smiling against his lips. “Tom’s always sleeping on the couch. Part of our cover is going to marriage counseling with Pastor Jeff, which happens to work out great for us.”

You exhaled a shuddered breath when one of his hands wandered past the robe and splayed warm against your ribcage, just underneath your breast. His thumb fought an itch to get closer.

“Wouldn’t do that, baby,” you murmured into his ear with an amused smirk. “That boner’s not gonna go away in five minutes.”

“Mmm, I know,” he groaned and dropped his head between your boobs, lips pressing a chaste kiss to your collarbone. If he continued on with this, your arousal would surely streak down your bare thighs soon. Luckily, he had mercy on the both of you. “I’ll talk to him and then come back, okay?”

You nodded with a smile. He kissed your lips, then your forehead, and then disappeared through the door with the same cometary velocity he had entered your vision.

And all you could do was hope you’d see him one more time in your life.

“So?”

4.3 seconds after Colter killed the engine of his pickup in a spot a block away to the west side of your house – as per Russell’s very specific instruction – he stared scrutinizingly at his older brother.

Impatience was also a family trait – one even their father had despised.

“Look, uhm, there’s no easy way to break the news…”

“Is this about you having two kids?”

When Russell’s eyes met Colter’s, he didn’t recognize any anger, hurt or resentment in them – just pure slyness. At least that was good news. His little brother was just going to be annoying about this whole thing.

“Yeah, remember those five minutes you left me alone in the car? I called Bobby. Had him check some things out for me. Wasn’t easy to find. I’ll give you that…”

As expected, Colter was going to be a smartass about it. He figured it out on his own. He won the game.

“Hmm.” Russell pursed his lips, nodding. “You do know the CIA is on your guy’s ass now, right? Shouldn’t have done it in their perimeter, man. Manny’s probably all over this by now…”

Then his brow knit as if the thought of his old friend had provoked an idea, his head tilting with narrowed eyes at the air vents on the dashboard. How long had that car been parked outside and out of sight again?

Like a game of Operation, Russell then used thumb and pointer finger as his tweezers to retrieve a tiny bug – the spy kind.

“Gotcha,” Russell muttered, smirking. He then held the bug close to the speakers of the radio before turning up the volume to its highest setting – only for a second. He switched the radio off, rolled down the window, and threw the unwanted listening device onto the pavement. “That should teach ‘em a lesson…”

Colter cocked an incredulous brow at his brother. “They bugged my car?”

“Oh, trust me, they bug anything they can get their greedy little hands on,” Russell retorted. “Would probably check for a tracker underneath, too.”

“Great, thanks,” Colter huffed wryly.

“Hey, you wanted in. That’s what they do,” Russell reminded him, shrugging, but there was a smile of amusement on his lips.

Colter only bobbed his head. “So, you and her? You guys are good now? Just like that? Seemed… easy. Sorta…”

Russell chuckled lightly, brushing a hand through his beard. He knew his relationship with you was unconventional, but it had always worked for you and him.

“Me and Y/N have a deal, you know? It’s not all black and white. I mean, we became aware a long time ago that the two of us operate in a lot of gray zones. But, uh, we always know we can rely on each other, you know? Doesn’t matter if we’ve been separated by time or space,” Russell explained to the best of his abilities.

“So what happened?” Colter prompted with the same amount of confusion. “Why did you guys split up? I saw on the birth certificate your daughter was only two years old. I mean, did you-… did you even know?”

Russell inhaled deeply, nodding. “I knew she was pregnant. When she told me back then, I-…” He paused, licking his lips. It wasn’t something he had ever talked about with anyone before – not even you. “Well, shortly after that, I had a breakdown and I-… I almost hurt her.” He choked on the words, fighting the sting in his eyes.

He’d tried so hard to forget, wasn’t even sure he had ever really apologized for it to you because he so badly didn’t want it to exist that he’d tried to wish it out of literal existence, and hence, never really blamed you for leaving like you did. He understood. In fact, he had even wished you’d leave. He had convinced himself you’d be better off without him – something he still believed to be true – but he also knew he wasn’t better off without you.

He’d been lost and alone. And maybe, he was being selfish by crashing back into your life now. Or Dory’s. And Colter’s.

“I mean, nothing ever really bad happened. It’s just-… That night I came scarily close,” Russell confessed, swallowing thickly. He still hated himself for that night and everything that followed. “It’s like a switch flipped, you know? I couldn’t do anything against it… And Lewis saw parts of it, and I was already impatient with him and short with her the weeks before, so I just left that night and disappeared for two months. Volunteered for some mission. Figured it was best for everybody.”

It’s better off if he never comes back…

Russell licked his chapped lips. The next part was the hardest.

“When I got back, she told me she got a job offer in another country, and that she would be taking it and taking Lewis with her. She wanted me to use the time to… I don’t know… solve this, I guess.” He let out a humorless scoff at the painful memory.

Russell hadn’t seen it at first, maybe because he hadn’t wanted to, his anger and pain blurring the truth. After his son had been born, Russell knew you could see him struggling, so you started digging deeper into his family and what really happened. And when you’d found something – Horizon – you’d told him you could infiltrate. Naturally, Russell had passed a hard no – it had been a five-hour long fight, but he'd emerged victoriously by the end. So, you’d told him he should do it, but he didn’t want to leave you, and he didn’t want to endanger and jeopardize his family.

He’d told he was fine, but he wasn’t. It kept gnawing on him – and gnawing and gnawing and gnawing… till you eventually pulled the plug and ended his suffering.

“I was exhausted, so I told her we’d talk about it in the morning. When I woke up, they were gone. Didn’t even notice she’d already packed.”

Colter was silent for a beat. “Was it PTSD or something?”

“Or somethin’,” replied Russell.

“But you’re good now?” Colter checked with a warily raised brow.

“Guess so…”

Truthfully, Russell didn’t know if he was or wasn’t. He’d tried hard to figure out what it was exactly that had set him off that night and fix it, but he didn’t know if that feeling would ever disappear for good. He just knew he had never felt that way again since then. But could he guarantee it would never come back?

He didn’t know.

“Look, all I know is, seeing you and Dory again helped, so…” Russell twitched his shoulders and sighed. He didn’t know what else to say, how to explain it better, but Colter seemed to understand anyway, reading between the lines.

Russell worried he’d be like their father.

“I think I get it.” The younger Shaw nodded and licked his lips. “You know, you’re not crazy like Dad was, Russ. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re crazy in your own way, but I wouldn’t worry about the other stuff.”

“Well, thanks,” Russell said, not convinced but appreciative of the vote of confidence. “Makes at least one of us…”

“I-, uh, I noticed their names,” Colter then said and clarified, “Lewis and Amelia. Like explorers. Like us.”

“Ah.” Russell smacked his lips and brushed it off, “Wasn’t really my idea. I told Y/N that story once. Guess she took a liking to it..”

“Are you, you know, gonna tell Mom?”

Russell was almost surprised by the question. The brothers had barely talked about their mother since they’d reconnected. Considering Colter had never brought her up again after their first meeting, Russell figured there was a reason for that – and he thought he probably knew the reason, too.

Russell scoffed a chuckle and looked at his little brother with an almost incredulous look. “I think you can guess the answer to that one,” he replied and figured it said enough. “Did you tell her I came back?”

Colter pursed his lips, and Russell took it as a sign of admission. So his mother knew. Great…

“Sorta,” Colter admitted hesitantly.

“What d’she say?” Russell almost smiled out of amusement. He already knew the answer, but his brother still seemed reluctant. “C’mon, you can tell me. I’m not gonna be butthurt after twenty years…”

“She told me to ignore you,” Colter finally confessed, but the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. They had ever since his mother said them, but even more so now that he knew his brother – and parts of the truth.

“Hmm,” Russell hummed with tight lips and ground his jaw.

Granted, the confession stung more than Russell would ever be willing to admit. The tiny, naive part inside of him had constructed a hopeless fantasy of his mother having a sudden change of heart over the last two decades and happily welcoming her firstborn back. Apparently, not a thing had changed, though, and he cursed himself for feeling disheartened.

“But I actually haven’t talked to her in a while now,” Colter added with a small shrug, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Huh, really?”

“Yeah, uh, and when I did, I didn’t exactly tell her I didn’t take her advice, you know? So…”

“Why not?” Russell’s brow furrowed a little more as he analyzed each word, simultaneously realizing why he had been so reluctant to share his life with Colter before – his subconscious had been afraid his alienated little brother would report back to the mothership.

Colter’s lips pursed. “Because I disagree.”

“Ah.”

Colter chewed on his lower lip. “Look, I know you and Dory wanna keep all of this in the past and play family – and trust me, I want that too,” he assured, but his heart was beating fast in his chest. “But I need to know, man. I need to know why she lied about this for twenty years and, you know, did all of this,” he insisted, and yet, Russell could tell he wasn’t done. He might have broken the dam. “She did it to you. I mean, aren’t you mad?”

“Of course I’m mad,” the older Shaw admitted, but there was no fire behind his words.

“Then why are you so calm?”

Amused, Russell chuckled, shrugging. “Probably ‘cause I’ve been dealing with this a lot longer than you, little brother.”

“So, what are we gonna do now?”

“We ain’t gonna do anything,” Russell clarified, his voice stern. He’d die to protect his family, you and the kids, and do anything in his power to keep you out of it, but Colter was a grown-up – a free agent. If he didn’t want to listen, Russell couldn’t force him. “Look, you wanna find out, you go find out. And if you do find something and need help, you call. But I can’t be involved in this,” he explained, his firm expression morphing into something more vulnerable and sincere. “And frankly, I don’t care that much. You, me, Dory, Y/N, the kids – that’s all that matters, trust me. You’re not gonna feel better or more… whole after finding those answers.”

“How do you know? Do you know what really happened?” Colter instantly asked, and Russell knew in that moment, it’d be hopeless. His brother wouldn’t stop till he found it – forever restless.

“No, I told you. I don’t,” Russell repeated, and while he didn’t know everything, he omitted that he knew something.

“What about Y/N?”

Russell froze at the bare mention of your name, his protective instincts kicking in. “Leave her out of this,” he all but snarled.

But Colter didn’t think about stopping. “Did you ever ask her? I mean, she’s CIA. She could probably find out something, right?”

“Yeah, I asked her once, alright? Was a long time ago,” Russell admitted, sighing. The intended lie would stick better if there was some truth to it – you had taught him that.

“C’mon, Russ… And?” Colter impatiently threw his arms up, brow raising higher and higher as he waited for an answer.

“She never found anything,” Russell said with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

This time, it wasn’t just an omission. It was a blatant lie.

“I think whatever Dad was involved in – or both of ‘em – was just some activist shit. I don’t think the government cares.” Lie. “We both know he had a mental thing. Paranoid, probably schizophrenic… I mean, Mom used to pump him full of meds sometimes when he got too out of hand.” Truth. He then stole a glance at his little brother and saw the confusion shimmering on his face. Russell scoffed. “You didn’t know that, did you?”

Quietly, Colter shook his head.

“Well, you were a kid,” Russell said and hoped it would curb the blow slightly, although he knew better than that. “He always took something as far back as I can remember. She used to prepare his pills every evening after you and Dory went to bed. But when we moved to the cabin, he started refusing to take them. Said they made him ‘not clear-headed enough.’ Kinda ironic,” he shared and snorted. “When it got too bad, though, she’d still crush ‘em into his food.”

Colter took everything in with a nod but didn’t say anything more.

“You good over there?” Russell checked after a full minute had passed.

“Yeah,” Colter said and even tried to form a reassuring smile before the attempt failed. Instead, he swallowed. “Just a lot, you know? I didn’t know. I mean, I had some idea, but not-… not that.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Russell said, his voice almost a whisper in the silence of the night. “Like I said, you were a kid…”

When Russell finally left the car to sneak back to you, his shoulders felt a little lighter and his heart a little calmer. He might just float through that unlatched window tonight.

The bad news was, though, he might not be able to retire just yet.

Part 5: This Is a Start – FEBRUARY 7

Honestly, I should've called this chapter "Heart-to-Heart Part II" 😂 I'll see you for the finale next week, but as you know, it's not the end for them – only just the beginning 😉

☕️ Ko-Fi 🩵 Tag List

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[lovecatsys]

one of my favorite Akihiro bits is that he gets. SO mad when people imply he's insane or compare him to people like Bullseye or Sabretooth or his dad and acts like he's super calm and always in control when the reality is that in a fight if something doesn't go his way he IMMEDIATELY loses his cool and starts going apeshit violent. Like okay sure you're not like your father. Sure.

[theoutcastwrites]

Make You Mine - Childe x Reader

Almost 4 years ago I started obsessing over Liyue Qixing Secretary!Reader x Childe and never did anything about it. Now the dynamic is stuck in my head, 4 years later, and I'm ready to write miniscule drabbles about them, coated in longing and yearning and the like. Hooray

The soft, silver glow of the moon seeped through the open windows, illuminating scarred skin and hair as golden as cor lapis itself. Childe lay with his back facing you, sound asleep, ignorant of the countless thoughts that swirled in your mind. The unwillingness to say goodbye; the sheer desperation to keep him in your field of view; the fear of being exposed, once and for all.

If these thoughts raced in his head during the day as they did in yours, then he did a better job of not showing it than you ever could.

You shifted behind him. His tanned skin, littered in scars and freckles alike, was more than just a sight you wished to remember; you wanted to memorize the placement of every little blemish, every freckle, so that you could recognize them by touch alone. How many battles had he seen to acquire this many scars? How many of them were near-deadly for his skin to become so marred? How did he remain so gentle, with all the bloodshed he had witnessed at such a young age?

You figured you should simply ask him next time. Childe would happily tell you - though he might gloss over the more gruesome details to save himself from the pity you would no doubt offer - but he would tell you nevertheless.

Biting your lip nervously, you reached out a careful hand to trace his shoulder blades. He didn't react to that - still sleeping, you thought, and took it as a sign to continue. With a featherlight touch, your fingers trailed his broad shoulder, his bicep (you fought the urge to squeeze the muscle there, appealing as it was).

Childe was unfairly beautiful at his barest. Every man in Teyvat should envy him and strive to have half the charm he had; but maybe they shouldn't bother trying. Who could ever hope to compare if not the gods themselves?

Your fingers stopped at the back of his neck, where they were tickled by unruly ginger hair. You had half the mind to kiss him there but there was no point in waking him. Childe had to leave early, anyhow.

Rex Lapis must not approve of your relationship; because Childe had to leave for Inazuma on your only day off work and, to make matters crueler, you couldn't even walk him to the docks. Under better circumstances, you would have kissed him right by his ship until he could speak nothing but your name. Under better circumstances, he would have held you tight, regardless if there were people around to see, and you would have happily returned his embrace. Until such a day came, you would have to do with fervent touches at illicit meetings.

"I'll bring you gifts," he'd said hours earlier, "whatever you want. Name it, and it's yours."

"What if I only want you?"

He laughed, as though you hadn't bared your soul to him in that confession,"but I'm already yours."

"Then keep being mine. No matter where you go, just come back being mine."

Childe smiled wide, with cheeks dusted red and eyes crinkled around the corners. A kiss, and then:

"You say it as if it's not the easiest thing in the world."

Come morning, he would vanish without a trace, leaving naught but a cold bed in his wake. His sweet words, surely half-forgotten by Childe himself, remained in your head like a painful reminder of what you could never fully have.