#he'll swoop down low before he drops them

[glambots]

omg your tags on that one post!!! moon would be so happy to play the pretend villain with the kids!! he gets to play his favorite role, they’re all having fun, and the little ones aren’t actually scared 🥺

When one of the bigger kids gets "caught" he just swoops them up into the air, shrieking and giggling, and playfully drops them into the ball pit as "punishment" for losing. He never actually "catches" the little ones, because you're always supposed to let the babies win obv. 🥺

[skyrigel]

Everyone who knew Simon thought him out to be a freak who didn't like to be touched, or talked to, or even looked at.

It was only you who knew how much of a starved bastard he was.

He's always touching you, personal space was crumbled up like a tissue ball and thrown in the trash while Simon was with you.

His hands would mindlessly find you, but with adoration of every atom of his soul, to scratch at your scalp and murmur sweet words, to coil your hair between his fingers, watching your strands slip and tugging them to earn a fond frown, his lips gliding on your warm skin, mouthing and biting and sucking. The simple joy of your hand in his. Big palm resting over your thigh before he begins to grope you in the middle of the movie.

 How at nights there would be huge weight lunged over you, arms wrapped around as if you would be taken up by a ghost. Sweet kisses places all over your face as soon as he would wake up. 

Simon who wouldn't utter a word when outside but the moment he's alone with you, that man would never stop. His eyes that were rumoured to be soulless would light up like brilliant stars, and he'll talk and talk, smiling and fondling, hands shooting up in gestures, in tales of Afghanistan and dubai. He jokes and makes you laugh until your eyes crinkled, and moistened while your stomach does swoops around in anticipated giddiness that takes over both of you in each other's presence. That's your man.

And oh lord, how much he wants to be seen, only by you.

Even after years of being together, Simon would take pride in trying to seduce you. He would walk out of the shower with his huge biceps on display, as water would slide down in tiney drops — towel wrapped lowely around his waist, his navel where a rush of hair darker than his roots disappeared, and the smug look he would have. And in the way he would make you look at him while shooting ropes of cum inside you, eyes lost in eyes, seen. Or the way Simon would look up with dazed eyes when he's home between your legs. 

Because he wants to be seen in a way that makes you all his, and him all yours.

Masterlist

[pepsi-maxwell]

Can I please request a criminal au + flirting under fire for cmjf?

you certainly can!!

punk and max are feuding crimelords who've taken out pretty much all the competition except each other, which leaves them often ending up in three-way shootouts with the police trying to get rid of the other. not that they're trying particularly hard...

-

“Come on, Max, how many of your guys are behind bars now? You know my offer's always open to join my crew,” Punk calls out as Max fires a shot off in his direction.

“What, so I can be bored out of my mind and keep my nose clean like one of your guys?” he shouts back, lowering his handgun. “Do you remember what fun is, Punk, or did you forget during the war?”

“Oh? Are we not having fun right now, Maxwell?”

A sudden volley of gunfire hits the wall behind him, spraying him with chips of plaster and brick.

“Oh, I'm having a blast, Punk!” He drops to his knees, crawling his way towards Punk’s voice. His trousers are going to be ruined after this, but his tailor has Punk's financials. He'll bill him for a new pair. “Gonna be even better once I take over your little fanclub and show them some real leadership—”

“Aww, my fanclub is right here, Max,” Punk laughs, sounding more distant this time. Max fires the entire chamber into the wall Punk's way in response, listening intently in the echoing silence to see if he can hear any sounds of pain or distress.

Nothing. Just ringing silence, and then—

Sirens.

“Shit,” he mutters, reloading his gun. “Somebody called the fucking cops,” he adds incredulously, louder this time, because he's not having Punk get caught by them. That's his job. He's the only one allowed to take Punk out.

“You that scared of the beating I'm gonna give you that you're willing to call the pigs on me?” Punk shouts across the warehouse, breaking into a low sprint along the back wall.

Max takes a couple potshots at him, making him flinch and stumble, but not enough to slow him down. He curses, holstering his gun and chasing after him. “You think I'd ruin my evening too, you stupid old fuck?!”

Punk slams open the fire escape, darting out into the darkness, Max in hot pursuit. Just in time, too, as the screech of car tires echoes around the buildings surrounding them.

Punk makes a left down one alley, and Max follows, catching up with him and slamming him into the wall. Punk's chest heaves and he throws Max a grin that has his stomach swooping, before he flips them around, pressing his hands to Max's shoulders. The brick scratches at his jacket, and he changes his mental invoice to bill him the cost of a full suit.

“Same time next week?” Punk murmurs, pitching his voice low.

Max shoves at him, fighting down the blush. “Get the fuck off me. The new Italian place, Wednesday night. I'm not schlubbing around a dirty fucking warehouse again.”

Punk leans in, pressing a quick kiss to Max's forehead. “Try not to get yourself arrested before then.”

“Like you wouldn't bail me out,” Max scoffs, shoving Punk again. He takes the hint this time, shooting off into the darkness.

Max watches him go. Grabs his phone. Sends a message to Wardlow and tells him to make sure his schedule is clear that night.

It's a date.

[multi-lefaiye]

specific bg3 headcanon rattling in my brain: how the party makes eden take a break.

eden overworks himself very easily, often to the detriment of his own physical and mental wellbeing. if he takes care of everything, every*one*, then it'll all work out. who cares if he burns himself out if he gets the job done?

(his friends care. his friends care a lot.)

and so, with time, the party develops a system for getting eden to take a break from his work, to destress and let them take care of him.

first, astarion goes to find eden and distract him by starting an argument with him, usually about something incredibly stupid and low-stakes where eden's definitely in the right, because eden loves telling people when they're wrong. if this doesn't work at first, shadowheart joins in by bringing up some stupid specific discourse about spellcasting. again, something eden is right about, but they won't back down on.

the goal is to pull him away long enough that they can lead him over to the fire, away from the scrolls he's been squinting at for hours. there, gale's already been cooking and made a nice meal for eden, making sure to give him a big portion b/c they KNOW he hasn't eaten in a while.

then, astarion and/or shadowheart suddenly drop the argument and concede that eden is correct, haha, they're just being silly :) omg wow while we're here, are you hungry??? i bet you're hungry. why don't we get you a bowl? and gale hands him his bowl of food right on cue.

then, wyll invites eden to sit with him so they can eat together, and generally eden will do so. but, sometimes, he'll seem reluctant or say he needs to get back to work. this is important. it can't wait.

so, then lae'zel reminds him that he needs to rest for at least some time--after all, he'll be much more effective in planning and in combat if he's slept. she's logical and to the point in a way that makes it clear he doesn't have a say in whether or not he's taking a break right now. and if he *still* seems reluctant, she'll tell him gently but firmly that she'll take care of it for now, and then go do that before he can protest.

(as she passes eden, she lightly bumps her head against his in an affectionate gesture, nudging him to sit next to wyll as he does.)

then, they get eden to cuddle up with wyll, and immediately gale (or astarion, depending on the day) swoops in on his other side, boxing him in and making sure he is *cozy* (and that he can't sneak away once he's done eating).

karlach puts a blanket around the three of them and ruffles eden's hair, telling him in a teasing voice that he'd better get some sleep tonight!! or he's gonna fry his brain looking at all those scrolls. she continues to distract him, striking up a conversation to keep him engaged and distracted, so he won't think about work.

from there, sometimes halsin comes in behind the trio to rub eden's sore, stiff shoulders, maybe using a little healing magic to soothe his chronic pain (which tends to flare up when he's stressed and overworked). and sometimes, shadowheart will also use a little magic to nudge eden into actually sleeping once he's done eating.

the exact roles are flexible and can change depending on the specific situation, but just. they have a system. they will get him to rest.

[issdisgrace]

I wish to give you an idea 🪑Teen mercenary reader (who is quite tall) getting saved my MW2 characters, or the other way around. Like, for example, on a mission that doesn't go as planned, a building blows up and one of task force 141/Los Vaqueros gets stuck under the rubble and reader saves them and gets them to their team and helps them out of there. I hope it isn't too much, but I've been just thinking of their reactions to a teen their level. I hope you're taking requests/ideas. Sorry! 🧡

141 & LOS VAQUEROS GETTING SAVED AFTER SHIT FELL ON THEM

WARNINGS: swearing

A/n: I hope you like it. I know it probably isn't exactly what you want, but I tried my brains working a little slow.

ALEJANDRO

Alejandro definitely sees you as a nephew. He admires your maturity and abilities. So when shit hits the fan and he and some members of Los Vaqueros are trapped under the rubble. He starts to pray that he'll make it out. So when you save him after he thought he was as good as dead, he was most definitely shocked. He profusely thanks you.

GAZ

Gaz and you were told to clear a 4 story abandoned compound that was once used by enemy soldiers. We were also tasked with gathering any information that was left behind. The clearing went fine, but Gaz to a wrong step and fell through the floor and into the floor below. A portion of the floor falling down on him. You sprinted to Gaz on the floor below. He couldn’t even process how fast you had come to him. You pushed the rubble off and made sure he was alright. Go through a checklist of things to make sure he was a-okay.

GHOST

Ghost like to challenge you and push you to the limits. You guys had been on recon. When you came face to face with a group of enemy soldiers. 3 of the guys went to Ghost and tried to jump him. 2 went for you and which you quickly took out. You shoot the guys that ghost was rolling around fighting. The two men dropping on Ghost. He sighs and before he can push the body’s off. You take the liberty of doing it yourself and help Simon up. He definitely appreciates you more now as a soldier.

PRICE

Price may or may have not jerry rigged a situation to see how strong and agile you were. He hadn’t expected his little plan to turn south and cause some a part of a building to collapse in. He was just kinda laying their re-thinking his life choice when you swooped in and saved his ass. He was definitely impressed he’ll tell you that, but what he won’t tell you was that his little plan went to shit.

ROACH

Roach never thought he would be laying on the ground a training mats on top of him. He just trying to train not get squished. Before he could push the heavy mats off of him. You sweep in and help. Making sure he’s ok and you’re even nice enough to set up the mats for him. Then you guys end up sparring and Roach walks away from the session with a bigger appreciation for you.

RUDY

Rudy sees you as his baby also he's a low-key mama bear. So when a building literally collapses on you guys. He is less worried about himself and more worried about you. So when you save yourself and him. He is both shocked and  proud of you. He knew you had potential, but finally, getting to see your potential in action was something else.

SOAP

Soap is a cool uncle. He loves to cause mayhem with you, but when his mayhem cause you guys to get crushed by a big ass fucking bookshelf. He was shocked. He definitely didn’t expect that to happen. But when you lifted the bookcase and the books off of both of you guys. He was like damn Hercules. I didn’t know you were that fucking strong.

[geeky-politics-46]

Can you do headcannons for Doctor Strange having a crush on a close friend? (Like, Im talking about when your in that "ah shit these feelings are NOT platonic" phase lol you know what I'm talking about 😂) If you want to do different versions for the different Stranges feel free!

This is a man who definitely tends to shove his feelings down or let's them come out in different ways before he confronts them.

When he realizes he likes you he starts showing off more than usual. Anything to impress you so you'll want to be around him more.

The more he's around you the more he catches himself studying your mannerisms or the little things that make you unique.

When he realizes he has a little crush on you he'll deny it at first. He'll pretend it's just a mutual respect, but he'll start doing little things for you. Like bringing you coffee or getting that book off the high shelf without you asking. Maybe little gifts that made him think of you.

When he realizes he really likes you, as more than friends, his attempts to show off start getting a little klutzy. He'll trip over his own feet a little bit. Not full on running into doors, but his dorky side pokes through his usual cool demeanor.

He'll also tease you a little extra. Nothing mean, but playful. Like hiding things only for him to "find" them in plain sight when he looks after you swear it isn't there. Poking you in that ticklish spot he discovered just so he can touch you.

He has his "Oh shit" moment after you squeeze past him one day in the kitchen or the library & your body slides against his. The smell of your skin, the swell of your ass against his groin, the arch in your low back. It gets him thinking of all the ways he could get you to arch your back even more & he has to excuse himself.

He will also get suspicious of any guy that smiles at you, even if they are friends. He's definitely a protective guy anyway, but he'll be extra worried about you getting hurt or taken advantage off.

If it's one of the other Avengers you better believe he won't be happy. He'll constantly invite himself on your assigned missions just to make sure none of that "oops there's only one bed" thing happens.

Though he will fantasize about the 2 of you ending up in that exact situation, or some other compromising position.

If you aren't an Avenger or a sorcerer he will think about swooping in & saving you from something. Literally sweeping you off your feet only for you to suddenly see him in a different light. It's really cheesy but he evens hopes you'll call him "my hero" if that happens.

Wong will of course tease him about this constantly & try to drop little hints to you so you'll make the first move since Strange won't. Like randomly deciding to sing "Kiss The Girl" from The Little Mermaid when you are all out at karaoke.

If a guy flirts with you when you are out as a group or at a party he will siddle up & make his presence known. Putting his hand on your back or calling you sweetheart to scare the other guy off.

He'll try to play it off as "it looked like he was making you uncomfortable" or "I saw him/overheard him do something sketchy" or something like that.

After he does this several times you drag him outside & end up in a screaming match, only for him to end up blurting out his feelings. That he doesn't want anyone else to have you because he wants you.

You still have to be the one to make the first move physically, though he does hope you'll just slam him against the nearest wall & make out with him. It's what he want's to do to you anyway.

He's gonna have a hard time keeping his hands off of you. He doesn't like PDAs, but he will make plenty of excuses to get you alone or make you play hooky to stay in bed with him.

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

Back to my masterlist

Let me know if you want to be tagged in stories for everything or for a specific charector. It's currently a lot of Strange & Bucky ❤

Stephen Strange Taglist: @starkiller-queen @glitterylokislut @verycollectivecreator @chatampr @maskmare931 @lovecleastrange @wheredafandomat @mkixx @katefullerrr @littlepinknightmare @foofarny @stygianoir @moonroyalt @saturnsbabe69 @blaxdet @blackrose-92 @ironstrange1991 @rindulacre @nancy-thompsons @wolfatheartandsoul @dangerouslittlefairy @n0obmaster-69 @oliveoilthoughts @onebatch--twobatch @yourmajesty13 @blondekel77 @lil-sweater-slut @gwephen @sinceimetyou @possessedjoker @coeurgrenaty @cc13723things @just--a-magpie @supervengerslock @strangelockd @dont-feel-so-good-peter @kingsmanperfecthartwin @ghost-lantern @thefalconandthewinterwidowshield @itssmaugtheterrible @katherinemaximoff @veryfancydoilies @cute-angi @mochacake2016 @prix19 @alexfanficnook @anotheroddfish @mando-is-the-way @xourownsidee @baes-x @dreamingsmile @negar77rd @imaginesfreetotake @ppatricia34me @rougepetale @evelynrosestuff

[inkrabbit]

Shut Up

for my love, @phantombluue

Summary: Ares decides to swoop you up in the middle of the night to deliver you to Silvanus in hopes you can comfort the old earth ghoul

Word count: 1,300

You fell asleep for all of maybe twenty minutes before your door clicked open. It wasn't unusual for the older siblings to go around and do headcounts every now and then, but it still made you groan softly. That's fine. Any second now, your door would click shut and you could go back to bed.

But you heard it: soft footsteps that grew closer. You finally turn, ready to tell the sibling that you're okay and you just want to sleep. That's when you recognize him.

The broken horns. Those glowing violet-blue eyes. That familiar scowl on his face.

“Shut up.” It's the first thing out of Ares' mouth as he reaches out. A squeak escapes your lips as he unceremoniously scoops you up into his arms. He sounds tired as he turns and walks out of your room, the sound of his boots echoing in the silent halls.

“I need you for tonight,” he grumbles softly, not even bothering to look at you. “Or rather, Sil needs you.”

Silvanus? You knew the ghoul. He was Papa Nihil's drummer and, at most times, a sarcastic loud-mouth. Still, he had retained some charm and was nice to most of the siblings, especially you. He never shooed you out of the kitchen when he was cooking and he had offered for you to spend time in their dens if ministry life got to be too much.

“Why does he need me?” you ask. Those eyes flicker down to you, the violent glint in them making your blood run cold.

“Shut up.” Fair enough. You watch as he carries you past the guest houses and towards their dens. The building wasn't as big as the others; it was only big enough to house the four of them. You heard talk of there once being a fifth, but no one had ever expanded on it. You supposed tonight wasn't the night to ask the old fire ghoul about the rumors.

Ares isn't gentle as he opens the door, kicking it shut with his heel. It's warmer inside, though it's dark. He trudges up the stairs and you cling a little tighter to him, worried he'll trip. You hear him let out a huff, but he doesn't say anything else as he takes a sharp right at the top of the stairs. In the dim light that seeps through the giant windows, you can barely make out the earth symbol on an oak door. It didn't take a genius to know who it belonged to, and you felt your heart speed up at the thought of being inside Silvanus' room for the first time.

“Stop that.” You look back at Ares, his scowl still cemented on his face. “Calm down or you'll freak him out.”

“I'm not exactly used to being carried into a ghoul's room,” you fire back, though you keep your voice low like he's doing. He stands outside of the door motionless, and you take a couple deep breaths to try and steady yourself.

“Don't ask him too many questions,” he instructs you. “He'll talk if he wants. Other than that, just... be there for him.”

“You're still not making any sense.” But he doesn't respond. Instead, he twists the golden knob and pushes the door open with his shoulder. The smell hits you but it's not the musk you're familiar with. The smell of forest is there, sure, but there's something heavier on top of it; sickly and heavy with iron. You see the way Ares' face contorts from a scowl to discomfort.

“Fratello,” he calls out softly. You see Silvanus laying in a plush bed, a light green canopy drawn around it. A brass lantern is lit, placed on the table next to his bed. Ares moves forward, shouldering the canopy open as he drops you on the bed. You see how Silvanus' ears twitch but he doesn't move. He doesn't even make a sound. “I've brought you company, mia luce. You know this Sibling, don't you?”

He finally moves, looking over his shoulder at you and letting out a small chuff. The sight of him makes your heart break. Any light from his eyes have gone and the dark circles have gotten worse. On top of that, his cheeks glisten in the dim light. Had he been crying?

“I didn't want you to be alone tonight,” Ares continues softly. “but Notus needs me. I figure your favorite Sibling would be better company than a fire ghoul.”

This time, he lets out a soft grunt. The somber look on Ares' face is so foreign as he stares at the earth ghoul. For once, he finally looks lost; helpless and defeated. His eyes go back to you. A silent nod is all you get, like he's reminding you of what he had said before he leaves, shutting the door behind him. You turn your attention back to Silvanus. The ghoul isn't looking at you anymore. Instead, he's looking at the wall, the seafoam green paint seeming to hold his interest. The comforter is drawn up to his hip, exposing his bare torso to you.

“Silvanus?” you try softly. His ears twitch but, again, he doesn't move. “Hey, what's wrong?”

“'m fine.” But you know it's a lie. His voice is strained, raspy, and even in that short sentence, you can hear how he's reverted back to the overlapping voice. You'd only heard it once when he was yelling at Sister Imperator. You didn't think you'd hear it again, especially in this state.

You feel awkward reaching out but you finally do. You rest your hand on his shoulder, your thumb stroking his skin. He feels cold underneath your touch.

“I'm here if you need me.” It's something he had told you when you started to hang around him more. Just a soft affirmation. But it seems to work.

At first, you assumed he was just going to ignore you again. But slowly, like it almost pains him to move, he finally rolls over to face you. This isn't the Silvanus you're used to and your eyes trail down to his neck. A nasty scar is embedded across his throat, but he tucks his head down when he notices you staring for too long. Ares' voice rings in your head. Don't ask him too many question. You settle on letting the silence linger as your hand moves towards his face, thumb swiping away the drying tears. You can't get over how broken and empty he looks.

But he finally moves again, burying his face in your neck and wrapping his arms around you to pull you close. His breathing is heavy and you can't tell if he's crying again or not. So you just hold him back, rubbing soothing circles into his back. You see how some of the plants hanging around his room has wilted. You wonder if this is what Ares has to deal with. You wonder if this is what Ares would do. Was this the right thing to do? Is this what he needed?

“It's okay,” you tell him, your voice just above a whisper. “I'm right here.”

“Thank you.” It's still the overlapping voice but it's getting better, steadier. He nuzzles further into your neck. You let your hand move, trailing through his hair and combing through it with your fingers. His heavy breathing slowly evens out, his body finally relaxed.

“Sil?” He doesn't answer. Probably finally fell asleep. So you press your lips against his head before settling further into the bed. You rest your head on top of his. Well, at least you could spend the night with your favorite ghoul. Even if you wished the conditions were different.

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 5 of ?)

gif by my literal angel @michaelgreys who keeps blessing us like holy fuck

a/n: all i can say is that this is the hottest one yet. as always, my girl @stxdyblr-2k did an amazing job so i hope you all enjoy :) and i'm still working on requests, tysm for all of them!!

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland

prompt: john just can't help himself when he sees you with someone else.

warnings: nsfw!!! smut, fluff, angst, light praise kink, john fucking adores you and spends a good amount of time with his head between your legs (yes i know!!!!!)

John had spotted you from across the London nightclub, his table tucked into the balcony area, perfectly positioned to survey the entire club. It'd been over a month since he laid eyes on you last. Sometimes, he wondered if it was possible for you to only get more beautiful every time he saw you. He wasn't surprised, as he'd been warned of your presence by Tommy, but he was unable to stop himself from staring at you, hair neatly styled, scarlet velvet dress clinging to every curve, red lipstick emphasizing your lips, a light haze of pink pressed into your cheekbones, lash-line expertly darkened with kohl. You were dancing with one of Isaiah's friends; the young man was tall and muscular -- a blinder foot soldier, John concluded, draining his glass of whiskey, flagging the waiter down for another.

The young lad was smiling down at you. John took a swig from his drink bitterly, the man obviously head over heels, his eyes bright, excitedly glancing from your lips to your figure. John could feel himself cringe; the younger man had all the subtlety and strategy of a malnourished dog. Then again, who could blame the lad? You were an absolute vision, twirling and giggling, off your face on something Michael had brought. John couldn't help but watch, wishing it was him who had caught your attention tonight, wanting to feel your breath fan across his neck, pulling away while you giggled at his blushing arousal; him whisking you to dark corners to steal a moment of quiet.

He'd tried to get over you but he couldn't. He'd been travelling a lot lately, business in Liverpool, Edinburgh and Belfast; yet in every woman who smiled at him, he found himself searching for you in their eyes, their smiles, their laugh. They were all gorgeous, but his heart simply wasn't in it.

Tonight had started off alright, normal Peaky activity. They'd seized the club only a few hours ago, gaining vital territory in London, bagging their place in the opiate trade and a successful business prospect in one fell swoop. By all accounts, John should’ve been happy, but he'd been too lost in his own mind lately to properly take in the consequences of those sleepless nights with the accounting books, all the hours practicing shooting and boxing, all the endless driving, the meetings, the lingering stench of death which clung to his family. Try as he might, he couldn't enjoy himself. His night got worse the second he spotted you; a yearning for you suddenly flooding his veins. It was easy to get on with life when you were hundreds of miles from him, but when you were a flight of stairs away? He knew the club had countless dark passages to hide away with you, multiple cloak rooms with thick brick walls to take you against: he had to stop his mind running wild. He couldn't. That had to be the last time. You were in his past, you had to stay there. But as he watched you dance with the blinder, he could feel the familiar burn of jealousy swell deep within him. The lad was far too close to you for his comfort, practically grazing his hips to yours. John roughly rubbed his jaw at the sight, silently seething to himself in the shadows.

Thomas studied his brother's body language, taking a slow drag of his cigarette, not understanding the fuss around you. Sure, you were pretty enough; you were bright, apparently funny, but you had never caught his attention really. He observed how John's eyes followed your every move, every sway of your hips closely watched as he held his breath, losing himself to you. He was glad he'd prompted Michael to invite you; this was the most attentive he'd seen John in a month. It was no coincidence that he'd dragged you away from Birmingham, from the watching eyes of the city locals, the wagging tongues in the assembly lines, far from Ada. Michael had admitted to Thomas that it was easy to persuade you, promising you a lift in his new car and a night out as Ada had plans with a gentleman. A night of dancing with your favourite lads and an all expenses paid trip to London? You couldn't resist.

John's jaw had tensed and squared, the man murmuring something against your neck causing you to giggle and grasp his collar. Thomas could tell his brother was practically bristling with jealousy. If looks could kill, the young man clinging to your hips would be long dead from the glare unleashed on him by the tallest Shelby brother.

"You gonna sit there useless or are you gonna fucking do something about it, eh?" Tommy inquired, nudging him with his shoulder.

"I can't."

"No one will know." Thomas pointed out, raising a brow, "The Blinders will say fuck all if they see owt. They keep quiet when it's about us Shelby brothers, yeah?"

John glanced at him, eyes slightly widened, confusion furrowing his brows. "You've changed your fuckin' tune."

"Sometimes, it's good to have secrets. What Ada doesn't know about the events of tonight won't hurt her."

"We don't do secrets. We're meant to trust each other." John objected. "We're a family."

"Nothing will change, John. I'll fix it for you, yeah? You've had a rough few weeks, you should reward yourself."

"She's not a fuckin’ prize, Tom."

"Keep talking that shit and people will get the wrong idea, think you love the woman or sommet." Thomas shrugged, taking a sip of his drink, while John's cheeks flared, his eyes flinching to the floor. He smirks to himself. "You going to go get your lass, then?"

John replied wordlessly, standing and downing the rest of his drink, pulling on his suit jacket, straightening his collar. "I'll catch you later, Tom."

********

The lad was nice, his name had long disappeared into the fog of liquor and Tokyo. He was someone's cousin, but he was polite; charming, almost. Most importantly, he wasn't related to your best friend. Not quite a Casanova type like John, but you two were a good match, everyone thought so. You'd seen him a few times now over the past week. He wasn't much of a talker, but he was a good dancer, and sweet after a few pints.

The band started playing a slower song, Isaiah dancing chest to chest with a beautiful girl across from you. You felt your partner place his fingers on the small of your back, his fingers inching lower, pulling you in closer before the two of you were interrupted by a dark figure looming over you.

"Can I cut in, mate?" A strong Birmingham accent sliced through the air, voice low and polite enough, but with a tone that was laced with venom. "Or are you gonna be a dick about it?"

The lad glanced nervously between you two, moving his hands away from you, embarrassed to be caught by his boss in this state, John staring him down. You slowly pulled away from him, turning to face John.

"Or you could ask me to dance yourself, John?"

John silently glared back at you, his mouth tensed into a thin line. He looked momentarily embarrassed, his attention switching back to your dance partner, the rest of lads silently watching, breaths baited, ready to jump in on the action if the moment required it.

"I'm heading off mate, reckon she's a cocktease." Your partner comments, attempting to diffuse the tension, stepping away, not wanting a fight or to piss off his boss. His path was quickly blocked by another blinder. You shot him an apologetic look and took the large hand John was offering you.

"Or, she's just not interested in you," John quipped, smirking, locking his fingers through yours. "You gonna go get your coat while I finish up with your best mate?"

"Thought we were dancing?"

"You can dance as much as you like in the suite, yeah? Proper gramophone. You coming?"

"You just want me on my own."

"Just tired of the distractions." He told you pointedly, skimming his glare over the group of men, standing with baited breath, preparing for it to kick off.

You rolled your eyes but squeezed his hands, slowly heading to the cloakroom, chatting with the attendant as you watched John confront the lad, keeping your distance. His arms were clutching the lad's lapels, snarling in his face before pushing him back. Michael watched from a few steps away, smoking absentmindedly, spine pressed to a pillar, leaving his cousin to sort out whatever offense he believed the man had caused.

You bundled yourself up in your thin coat, a gift from one of the girls you hung around with as she had recently married a blinder and was being spoiled rotten. The coat's flimsy material was going to be useless against the London night. At least you could count on John to keep you warm on the walk back to the hotel. You headed towards the side door, John's hand quickly finding your lower back protectively as he fell into step beside you. He opened the heavy wooden doors for you, the cold air an instant relief from the heat of the nightclub. You turned back as the door closed, catching a glimpse of the boys closing in on the lad, their eyes gleaming with a violent hunger for action.

"He'll be alright. Daft prick just getting put in his place." John said flatly. He seemed bored but watched you anxiously, begging you with his eyes to drop the subject.

"Is the hotel close by?" You asked casually, as the frigid air swirled around your calves, instantly causing you to shiver.

"I'll get us a cab, love, can't have you in those heels trekking halfway across London town." He stepped fearlessly into the road, unbothered about any potential danger or just forgetful from the whiskey. Quickly, a dark cab pulled up to the cobblestone pavement and John helped you in, taking off his coat and wrapping it around your shoulders before climbing in after you.

As the engine started and the car made its way through London's dimly lit streets to Camden, John's hand found its way to your thigh. You glanced at him, his eyes looking away but his thumb angled against his teeth. He was nervous, having not touched you in a month. You crossed your legs, angling them towards him, his hand shifting higher up your thighs, taking a deep sigh of relief. Your hands found his chin in the gloom of the back of the car, only the occasional bright lights from a nightlife hub or the demure lights of a residential illuminating his face, the angles changing as the cab drove on. It was too much. You'd been needing this for the past month, needing him. Your hands laced around the back of his head and you pressed your lips to his for a brief moment, allowing John to pull you deeper into the kiss. It awoke something familiar inside you, something comforting. Kissing John erased all your homesickness. Christ, you had to stop thinking like this.

"You've not been about for a bit, sweetheart. I know we said never again, but I was hoping you'd come by," John muttered, forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling with yours as he spoke.

"I almost did. The amount of times I nearly visited your office.. I just couldn't do that to you or Ada. Besides, last I heard, you were on tour." You admitted, keeping your voice down to save the cab driver the embarrassment. John caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, tracing the corner of your mouth, prompting a grin from you.

"Last place on earth I'd expected to see you next, it's been hectic my end," He sighed. His eyes were outlined with deep purple smudges of exhaustion, yet he was still devastatingly beautiful even after all the sleepless nights. "It's been too long."

"Not my fault you've been hiding yourself away. You should've called."

"Blame Tommy for that. His solution seems to be sending me on business trips. Trying to make me too tired to handle you." A nervous lick of his lips revealed John’s response to the suggestion that he call you. He wanted to say he would ring next time, but there couldn't be a next time.

"You can barely handle me on a good day, Mr. Shelby."

"Can't blame me. You seen yourself? On the brink as soon as I see you, lass." He teased, earning a gentle shove to the shoulder as you quickly pressed a kiss underneath his chin. You wanted to bring up Thomas' threat, but you bit your tongue, nudging his shin with the toe of your heel in the back of the cab. He rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrists lightly. "Behave yourself in front of the nice cabbie, sweetheart."

You soften at his touch, unable to resist reaching to interlock your fingers, squeezing his hands in yours affectionately. The spirits your table had been bringing you all night definitely boosted your confidence, any hesitancy due to potential rejection drowned out. John pressed his lips to your knuckles in response. He seemed different tonight, far more protective and serious than usual. He was so quiet it was strange, usually yapping your ear off, desperate for you to react, treating him to a giggle, a middle finger or a cutting response. You'd also never witnessed him spark off due to someone's interaction with you. Finn had mentioned a week or so back that John had a shouting match with Thomas and in the moment, your name got thrown up in the conversation, resulting in John taking a swing at his big brother out of frustration. It was confusing. He was willing to start fights over you, punch his brother, yet when you two were alone he was uncomfortably quiet, studying you, lost in his thoughts. His silence only made your body long for him, his fingers tracing patterns in your inner thigh. You let out a small whimper into the crook of his neck, as he instinctively pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

The car pulled up outside the hotel, your pulse racing, the anticipation already threatening to make you give in completely to his wishes tonight. You waited as he turned up his collar against the rain, clambering out of the car to open your door, creatively arranging the coat to hover just above both your heads protecting you from the miserable weather. Although John had referred to the building as a hotel, you could instantly tell the manor was some aristocrat's third or fourth home, obviously being rented out or gifted to business partners for trips. It was an imposing grey stone building, exquisitely carved, although not a country estate, the house was just as large. Was John used to this? It hit you all of a sudden that you'd never set foot inside John's home. You'd heard from Ada that it was overrun with hoards of screaming children. She often joked with the children at the Shelby Institute that if they hung around long enough at John's, he'd assume they were one of his offspring. You'd only ever fucked him in a guest bed. The shame made your stomach churn.

You needed to remind yourself of this when your late night thoughts ran rampant. John could say what he liked, but he'd never actually allow you to get overly personal with him. Whatever confusing mess was winding around your skull regarding him was useless; it was best not to think about it. You went to him every time, yet he would've picked another lass tonight, it was just that you were there. He probably had a string of gorgeous women, older, more accomplished, more experienced, more elegant. He could tell you he missed you, but you could never take for granted that he told you this for any other reason than as a prelude to get you in bed with him. You were his gorgeous mess, but only for the night. It was best to remind yourself to care less than he did. It was the easiest solution in the long term; this way, the downfall would be less brutal.

"You alright, love?" He asked suddenly, breaking your train of thought.

"Sorry, I was thinking about work."

He lived around his brothers for long enough, he could smell bullshit. He decided to let it go. It was best to not push it tonight. Just keep it light hearted, easy, like it was always meant to be.

"If your boss keeps being a prick, you tell Ada. She'll sort him out."

"Don't I know it? He can barely open the door before she starts on about workplace ethics." You joked, earning a small smile instead of his usual bright chuckle. "John, what are we doing here?"

"Well I'm about to take you upstairs and sort you out, yeah? You gonna let me look after you?" He asked, stopping you in your tracks by turning you into him, grabbing your wrist.

"You know that isn't what I meant."

"I know. But can we leave it tonight? Can we just have fun?" He questioned, lips ghosting over yours, fixing you with an intense stare.

"It's fun anymore." Your voice cracked, the liquor in your system making it impossible to control your tone or your facial expressions. "It's fucking with my head, John."

"It's just.. fucking difficult. It's fucking difficult because of who we are." He replied firmly but dropped his makeshift coat shelter around your shoulders, freeing his hands to grab your face pulling it to his, the alcohol making him far needier than he usually appeared. "You, my beautiful Y/N, are a fucking losing game. It's not as easy for me, I can't just dance with a woman and get a leg over-"

"I never said you couldn't."

"I know, I.." He gestured vaguely, lifting one of his hands off your cheeks, and you can feel your head nodding in understanding. "You know, I thought I was going to manage it this time. That I wouldn't be a total fuck up, but then you and that lad-"

"Catch you getting jealous over me."

"Fuck off." He let go of you for a split second but you reeled him back in, resting your palms on the chest of his shirt, the soaked material sticking to his skin. You'd struck a nerve. You decided to push him further.

"I don't know what you're trying to do, Mr. Shelby, disappearing across the country for weeks then coming back and telling me you want me all to yourself?" You played with his collar, tugging his face to yours before pulling back at the last possible second, causing him to let out a frustrated groan, hands itching to feel you underneath them.

"Don't fucking wind me up," He snapped, the intensity between you rekindled momentarily.

"It's worked wonders in the past," You replied, barely able to finish your sentence before his mouth was on yours, his fingers tangling into your hair, kissing you properly. Although you'd kissed so many times prior, this one felt so genuine, as though unleashed from its restraints deep within John. You'd never kissed anyone in the rain before in the middle of the night, and it felt magical. You were shivering but hot all over, burning for John to do something, anything. You could feel his cock through his dress pants, hard against you, prompting you to moan into his mouth.

"Fuck’s sake, Y/N," John grunted into your ear, his hands grabbing at your arse. "You're fuckin’ killing me here. I need you, yeah?"

"Tell me how badly." You responded coyly, linking your arms around his neck, ignoring the late night drizzle.

"I'd rather show you. M’gonna take care of you tonight, make up for the month I've been gone."

"Who's saying I've not been taking care of myself?'

He bit his lip in frustration, trying to stop his mind running wild with the image of you in bed, fingers between your thighs, breasts moving as you arched your back, hips lifting off the mattress, moaning as you called his name -- his jaw clenched. "I know what you're doing. You coming up before you catch a chill?"

You shifted your weight away from him, as if considering your options. He knew your answer; you both knew in a few minutes you'd be upstairs practically tearing his shirt off, needing his skin against yours, begging for him. John pulled away from you, dragging you up the winding path to the front door of the manor, opening the door for you, arm wrapping around your waist. His lips met yours, then your collarbones and neck, prompting a breathy giggle and whine as you wound yourself back around him, craving the contact. The manor was plunged in darkness, staff somewhere in the gloom. Your arrival had definitely been noted, but as with everyone who worked for the Shelbys, they just left you to it. It was easier to not get involved, to keep their heads down and not mention the midnight trysts the brothers got up to.

John knew his path, he'd stayed here before. Even in the dark you could tell the house was decorated to spare no expense, the gaudy paintings and sculptures casting strange shadows. He led you up the grand flight of stairs, then another.

"Worse than Thomas' estate, this place." You murmured quietly, unsure of other guests within earshot.

"I could never live like this. I'd never see my brood again. Getting them ready for bed would be one hell of a nightmare." He whispered back, halting your stride by pulling your hips to his, unable to wait any longer.

"John, what if we get caught?" You asked, pressing your hand against his chest with your palm flat.

"Never bothered you before. Thought you liked the fact that anyone could just walk in and see what a pretty little mess you’ve made for me."

You couldn’t help yourself from pressing an affectionate kiss to his mouth, letting him lay you down and pin you to the stairs, the luxuriously thick carpets scraping into your flesh. He cursed under his breath at the sight of you underneath him, pushing your dress up your thighs, lifting your legs to wrap around his neck, pressing a kiss to your flimsy underwear, glancing up to drink you in. The most beautiful woman in his city, begging for him, figure swamped by his coat, rain soaked and shivering, his mouth between her thighs. He ran his tongue slowly across your clothed core, your pleading moans music to his ears, loving how your thighs tightened around his neck. His tongue traced circles over your clit and labia, the friction generated by the lace of your panties pushing you further, your hands knotting into his hair, spine arching against his mouth.

"No one been looking after you while I was gone. eh?" He asked, pressing kisses to your inner thigh, tugging your panties to the side. "What about your dancing pal?"

"Fuck’s sake, I barely know him, John." You snapped back, teetering on the edge between lust and frustration from his relentless teasing.

"Keep it that way. You don't need ‘im, lass, not while I'm about." He replies before lapping at your slit, interpreting your moans as approval as your head slumped back and you released a low groan. "Y/N, watch me, yeah?"

You pull yourself weakly upwards, propping yourself up in your elbows to be able to look down the staircase at John between your legs in the dark. The view was thrilling, moonlight shining in through the rain on the window, illuminating his face, hair messy and tongue flickering across your clit while he stared up at you, his eyes darkened with lust. You couldn't help but pant, knowing you'd be returning to this moment alone at night, when it was your fingers instead of John's tongue pushing you towards the edge.

"So fuckin' wet and ready for me, aren’t you?" He crooned, sliding his fingers into you, sucking at your clit between flicks of his tongue.

You couldn’t find the words to respond, whimpers leaving your mouth instead, your hips lifting beneath his palms, chest heaving.

"Go on, use your words, clever lass."

"John, fuck.. don't stop," You manage to string together, thoughts too muddled by alcohol and arousal to play hard to get any longer.

"I won't ‘til you cum in my mouth. Need to taste you again, beautiful."

Your head jerked back suddenly as John curled his fingers inside you, pushing up against the spot that made you lose your mind, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, all he could hear except from his blood rushing in his head. Your desperate cries for relief caused his cock to strain against his dress pants, fighting the urge to sort himself out, needing to finish you off. John needed to prove that he could fuck you better than anyone else. He knew he was pushing you to the edge, but he wasn't going to deny you your orgasm. He wanted to make a point with this. His fingers worked faster, his mouth hungry for you, lips moving against your core at a harsh pace.

You groaned loudly, hips bucking involuntarily just to be forced back against the carpet of the staircase. Your breaths grew heavier, warning him how close you were to your peak. John refused to let up, pushing you closer every second, lips latched to your core firmly, lapping up the wetness he'd produced.

"I want to watch you finish." He commanded, you completely at his will now that you'd lost control, lifting your head upwards with the little strength you had left to be able to stare down at his dilated blue eyes. "Good girl. You gonna show me how good I make you feel? You gonna cum for me, doll?"

You couldn't respond, unable to keep your eyes from rolling backwards as you felt yourself suddenly release, John’s name escaping from between your lips, legs shuddering around his neck. He let you ride it out on his tongue, tasting you desperately, watching your expression slowly relax.

Finally, he pulled away from your cunt, unwrapping your legs from his neck. He grabbed your wrist, not letting you retrieve your panties, stuffing them into his trouser pocket. He returned his attention to tracing your slit with the index finger and thumb of his other hand, as he pressed a long kiss to your lips.

"I love how you taste," He murmured against your lips, causing you to flush slightly. John noticed, pressing kisses to your jawbone. "Don't get shy on me now. I've barely started with you. Not even got you to the suite and you've already cum."

He looked so proud of himself, it suddenly clicked for you. He was trying to prove himself to you, for some unknown reason. You know he was protective and quite obviously jealous tonight, but you couldn't believe that John Shelby felt the need to prove that he knew what he was doing, as though you weren't aware. You weren't trekking to his office for mediocre sex. Tonight he let you finish first, no teasing, no denial, no fucking about. Just putting his ability fully on show, so when your mind went drifting it'd go back to him, not some young lad who barely knew what he was doing. His cocky attitude and smug acceptance of his sexual prowess would've been off-putting if it was anyone else, but John, but with his bright smile and constant humour, pulled it off. It was enticing, making your core pool with wetness when he crossed your mind.

"A month is far too long, Mr. Shelby."

"I know, you're practically drooling over me." He teased. He seems a lot more himself than before. He’d been too caught up in his head, too focused on getting you off to enjoy the flirting and teasing. John loved how light-hearted he could be with you. Despite the mess you were both in, it was making you laugh or roll your eyes that soothed his mind. Honestly, if it was just sex he'd have cut you off instantly; he wouldn't have even gone there out of loyalty to Ada. Admittedly, it was your company and presence that had him absolutely on his knees for you, the way he felt understood, less alone in his brother's bullshit, less trapped by his criminal career because you understood. You always had a cutting line, a bright smile just for him, an eye roll at his brothers' daft plans, a choice curse word for Thomas. He didn't even want to consider what would happen after the night ended. He stood, pressing another kiss to your lips as he helped you to your feet, fixing his coat which hung off your shoulders.

"You ready for rounds two through to six?"

"John, you know you won't get through three with me."

"You’re right, you're just too pretty when you’re riding my cock." He teased, the vulgar material of his jibe earning him a joking shove before you curl into his side, letting him escort you up the stairs to the nearest bedroom. He quickly shut the door behind you, scooping you up in his arms, causing you to let out a laugh as he practically tossed you onto the king sized bed, eyes shining with adoration as he looked down at you grinning back up at him.

“You’re something else, John Shelby.”

[saviorpattcrn]

vigilaent​:

it’s  almost  as  if  the  noise  quiets ,  then .     so quickly ,  the jagged drywall is just a wall ,  the air a steady presence versus vacuum ,  their naked body maybe even their own .     dick makes things easy like that ,  we’ll figure this out together ,  whatever it takes ,  hand outstretched like it hasn’t ever been bit before ,  to help them up ,  get some food in their belly and the beginnings of a smile back on their lips ,  but when they go to clasp it ,  there’s only the sensation of smoke through their fingers .     unsteady ,  grip clings harder than they mean to ,  bears their weight against dick’s before they fall right back to liquid floor .

a choked laugh spiderwebbs its way up their throat ,  dizzying ,  stilted ,  a stumbled attempt at the normalcy they need so badly to solidify in their hands .     ‶  sorry ,  ‶          they breathe ,  like they’re just being clumsy ,  and they are ,  but the room suddenly feels smaller again ,  the walls closer ,  and they’re trying desperately not to look at the tears in dick’s clothes .          ‶  there’s that   — —   that new ice cream place a couple blocks down .  ‶          they ignore the way their stomach churns ,  limbs only loosely cooperating ,  but arms pull in all the same ,  gaze dropping and darting in search of their clothes .     shit .     worst  part about shapeshifting .     (  yeah ,  it’s definitely that and not the   — —   )    

warmth ,  suddenly ,  on their forearm .     big ,  damp droplets ,  and for a moment ,  they think it’s dick ,  expecting familiar shades of red to be staining their skin ,  deep and dark and sticky ,  but instead it’s only 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 .     they blink ,  brows twitching over damp eyes ,  and they taste congestion in the back of their mouth .     oh .     movements stutter - start ,  hurried to rub it into their skin like a suave but hesitating under dick’s watchful gaze .          ‶  shit   — —   ‶        and it feels random ,  unbidden ,  though they know logically it shouldn’t surprise them .     but it does ,  and a wet laugh follows ,  habit ,  likewise a sick swoop dipping low into their stomach on its heels .     okay ,  bad ,  but they don’t choke ,  don’t fold like a house of cards and start gagging on the taste of blood that isn’t there ,  even if a part of them wants to .

         ‶  sorry ,  i’m   — —   ‶          they begin ,  unable to meet dick’s eyes ,  gaze instead fixed and unmoving on the torn fabric of dick’s shirt lined with crimson ,          ‶  i’m thinking about them again ;   can we just …  go to the infirmary ?     please ?  ‶

For a split second it seems like he succeeded, that Gar is coming back to the moment and starting to collect themself again. Then they try to stand and practically collapse into Dick, whose arms are almost immediately around them, cautious of hurting them but firm enough to help lower Gar back to the floor without letting them simply drop. It doesn't matter that Gar still needs his clothes- Dick will go find some in a minute, once he's sure Gar isn't going to fall apart again- he'll catch him either way.

Once they're on the floor, Dick's arms loosen, let Gar have their space back to themselves even as a quiet 'shhh' leaves his lips at their apologies. "You're okay." He assures the younger titan. Gar's hands try to find his clothes and Dick is halfway up when the tears fall and he stills as Gar tries to hide the tears and hide the discomfort. He's already nodding as Gar mentions the infirmary. "'Course." he says softly. "Stay right here a sec, yeah? I'm gonna get you some clothes." His fingers comb through Gar's hair as he stands, going back to the lockers where they change and since he doesn't know Gar's lock, he grabs some of his own spare gym clothes and returns to Gar in mere minutes to offer them to the other. "Get dressed and we'll hit the infirmary. You want me to call Kori in?" Would it make them feel better to have Kori dressing Dick's wounds and her loving touch to reassure Gar? 

Once they're dressed he offers a hand once more, hyper aware of the way their legs had gone unsteady last time and ready to catch them, leave an arm looped around their waist to help. "You alright?" It's a stupid question, a pointless question, but one more directed at the physical than the mental right now. *can you walk* is the real wonder. Do they need help, help Dick's more than willing to give but won't force on them, not now?