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pwblogarchive · 4 months ago

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December 2006

December 3, 2006

“status”

yesterday i fell backwards through a window- sure it was sugarglass and light wood.still felt the nerves slip.been sleeping 3 hour nights.i love watching people sing and speak and write about the people and things that they love.it makes me feel regular again.gave up on love when i started seeing about it in gossip rags.gave up on god when i realized one day my father was gonna die.gave up on myself too many times to count- you could trade mistakes for sheepand count me away forever at night.thanks for never giving up on me.even when you truly should have.and most of our incoherrent thought is wasted on whether it will mean more to stay or to go. if we can get home before the light hits our bedroom.

December 3, 2006

“a penny for your thoughts”

im sensing some antidote in the way the world has been speaking to me.but im all heart with these fingers stuck in my ears-playing scenes from my childhood so loud that i cant hear whats happened to me.you cant fly these wings, you cant sleep in this box with me.somewhere theres a backroom for us to be swapping spit in. a ditch for me to be forgotten again."there are plenty of fish in the sea" quip pretty fisherman on boats in stocked lakes and fish farms.do you think about me when you see the moon in the afternoon?"shape up or ship out"im nailed and boarded up in a box addressed to somewhere else.of all gods jokes, i am the most cruel- i will make you forget your headand your rulesand your friendsand your faithwe are bricks on gas pedals.we are the ink on forged checks.i will make you mine and then forget you.my head is too crowded for the company.can we go back to how it was?before there was a world out the front door that got off on being down.stockpiled good fortune and am ready to wait out the storm.i want you in my after 12am veins.lately it all just feels like looking up through ice in a frozen pond at red cheeked families skating, carefree.to be honest, even though im nodding off in airport lounges-id rather lay my head on a curb somewhere with you than any of the rest of it.and the universe doesnt care about luck or headlines.someone whispered "make yourself" in my ear once.steal me away from all of this.make yourself.

12/03/06 Q&A

question

I was just wondering, how much profanity can be expected on the new album?

answer

not too much more than what you hear in “arms race”- though i have a mouth like a sialor. i tend to write in more hyper sexualized metaphors- nothing that would warrant a sticker or anything tho…

question

who you like better.. old pete or new pete?

answer

people always seem to be in a constant state of flux. noone stays the same forevr but the change never seems to happen overnight. old pete got grounded alot and stuff but to tell you the truth ive never cared too much for either. in all honesty.

question

pete, you guys owe the midwest big time you tottaly skipped us on the FOE tour…you arent playing a show in iowa or chicago… =[

answer

duh like wed ever space out on our hometown, like we dont have something super special planned just for you that is NOT part of the tour—- that goes for a couple of places we are “skipping”- have a bit of faith. we try not to let you down…

question

Push-up bras: in or out in 2006?

answer

im not wearing them anymore this year, so i guess no.

December 4, 2006

i want to fall in love with someone who can speak parseltongue.

- xo

December 8, 2006

minus : bill and teds excellent adventure was almost halfway done when i got home. and i wasted my night thinking of someone who will never understand me.minus/plus:i cut off my hair and jumped through a sheet of glass for our new video. plus: when napoleon eats the huge banana split in bill and teds: ziggy piggy ziggy piggy. i got an igloo dog house and fake snow for hem to play in. way more fun than whatever else i oculd have been doing. going to see panic tommorrow.

- xo

December 12, 2006

5:31am

i cant explain the feeling that has been exactly the same since the first moment you bobbed your head, had your spit shoot out of your mouth when singing along, or been crush on the railing on the front of the stage.everything else aside. the flashes, the numbers, everything- i hope i am judged and remembered only by how you have felt and sung along.it is a testament to who i wish i was and am always striving to become. because as much as we saved you- you have saved me.the shows feel the same. i was worried. but a smile or a wink reminds me that we are still part of the same machine that noone else understands.sorry if this is corny but these were the thoughts going through my head as i iced my back today after the show. if i fall apart, if we didnt sell a single record- this was still the best adventure story ever written. and i am endlessly grateful for that. ill now go back to being a douchebag.i think youre gonna like the new video.... let us know if youre hearing arms race on the radio by you.... just putting the final touhces on the record- yeah we know its like shopping for presents on xmas eve. but oh well. we dont want to let anyone down, not ourselves or you.xo.sleep fast, dream hard.ps i miss my dog.

- xo

Dec 14 2006

02:26:00

dear you,

sometimes we get caught up in riding the moment, good or bad. mental health or our bodies. usually its never as bad as it seems in our own heads or in those seconds when it seems like noone else can empathize. but the truth is, as reluctant as we are to admit it- there are strains inside of us that make us exactly the same. together and alone all at once. crashing thoughts like chemistry. playing these club shows has been like heaven for me- its the closest i can get to being that little band again- and i love every minute of it. its exciting and crushing- pins and needles everywhere in anticipation. seeing the same old faces on the barricades but with new smiles. i have high hopes that you will come with us on this record if only because i feel like i/we owe it to you. i listen to the songs over and over again and hope that they hit you in that same spot but in a brand new way.

post video: my back will be okay,so will my hair (haha as okay as it ever was), i am in love with my band more than anything else on the planet. i hope you like the video.

i feel like a hack giving advice to you on the q & a when the truth is, i dont really have a clue to get through life on my own.i havent been able to sleep since we left on tour this week- my question to you- what do you do to fall asleep?

thanks for always being there. even when you probably shouldnt.

it puts me at ease knowing that someone else doesnt get it as much as i dont get it.

December 14, 2006

“be my unholy, my one and lonely. (the inside of my head, unfiltered).”

computer broke. back broke. love broke.

but the ship is gonna look pretty at the bottom of this sea.

my memory is a steel trap.

your face has been filed away- to be scrutinized later.

to be despised.

to be loved.

to be sought.

to be dreamt of.

i am the inside of "i dont care".

right in the middle.

staring at you.

i have you read before you even say your name.

except when im wrong

and my whole world tips on end.

"i loved everything about you that hurts".

everything i love about you is a mess- is the reason you cant get through your days.

i keep the tv on loud in hotel rooms so i dont feel alone.

i wear scarves and hoods cause theyre the only poker face ive got left.

in my head i smash mirrors and break palm readers' hands.

i love to write of sex and bodies pressed against eachother- but i am not a closer and never will be, i cant get my mind to shut off long enough to make moves. id rather remember the smell of your hair and the way you faked like you were too drunk to drive home.

id rather break you down.

i dread human contact but cant stand to sleep alone- two parts of me that are constantly at war with each other.

every single mirror is a trick mirror. not just the funhouse ones. we see what we want.

i wish i could live a billion years just to evolve beyond love.

only the science of that doesnt really add up, and besides i am addicted to it.

if you cut me open i am the single most regular person that has ever existed.

it scares me.

it electrifies me.

i have put my belief in god in a sort of holding pattern- i close my eyes hard and want to believe. just because this cant be it. but im not ready to commit. keep flying. one of these days were gonna run out of fuel.

the famous < the infamous.

i want to become better than i am.

i want cures instead of houses.

and hope instead of hype.

only its all so big that i dont even know where to start.

birth and death are just the bookends, no one explains how to find happiness in between.

my mood changes before i finish whole sentences. hence the fragments.

if anyone ever knew the whole truth im pretty sure they would lock me up and throw away the key.

i dont like to talk or play certain songs because they are just an unhappy blur in my life when somewhere inside of me i was sure id be dead before anyone ever heard them.

i wish jimminy cricket was my best friend.

i think hed keep me on track.

its no fun hating someone who hates themself so much more.

youre just an amateur.

you cant complain about your back and then jump off of high things.

well you can but then you just look silly.

my attention span, my temper, my faith and my height are all pretty much just short.

if i ever really had three wishes i am sure id waste them on ruining three peoples lives.

disappointing people is my thing baby, find a new gig, this town aint big enough for the two of us.

i have a love/hate relationship with being forgotten.

i fall asleep on the keyboard all the time, i think it is of some comfort to me.

i cant wait to meet the person i will want to grow old with.

posted by xo @ 12:29 AM

December 16, 2006

2:57am

Have heart, willing to travel.

- xo

December 16, 2006

come on just let me make out with one of your friends and we'll call it even

caged all the free spirits.lets make them shiny so we see them glisten on the ocean bottom.well take your flaws and polish them as good as new-that is except for jealousy, theres been a recall on that one.expect version 2.0turned the corners of my eyes out as though they were my pockets, as i pass by men sleeping in boxes looking for loose change.fix me or forget me. at this point im going for whichever is easier.im guessing i look like i just got off a bender cause everyone keeps saying "you really should get some rest".like that was the problem.it feels like a surgeon who cant cut himself open to save his own life.going AWOL from ghost towns.look into mirrors-"wipe that smile off your fucking face."my dreams are all backyards in the suburbs and you.and whatever happens in between just make sure our plots are matching and next to eachother.its kind of tough being a people pleaser when you arent too fond of people in general.on steroids for the back- no, not the cool kind. though one of the side effects is dementia.living out of a suitcase changes your outlook on the world.its hard to imagine a time when any of this made sense.a flight.fizz of tonic water.clicking of hotel room keys."ive never done this before"s.you need oxygen tanks to climb the mountains i have made of these molehills.keep me away from the inside of your head.

December 16, 2006

here's to fresh starts

Today was one of the longest ever for me.I have no explanation. Except that relief can come from the last place you'd ever expect.Sometimes the people you expect to be there are no shows. Especially when you're on the tile floor heaving.I am ready to be me again.I miss my puppy. I think you dreamt me alive.

December 18, 2006

love/hate

I am sur ei have been loved. I have obsessed over love. the kind of love of getting in and out of trouible. I have hoped for love that is beyond you beiung caught by me or me trying to slip through the cracks. I hope for a love that is like astronomers who desribe distant planets. Even as experts it is a too far off to even properly calculate no matter how much you adore it. And I am no expert. When was the last time you felt proud of me? Ask myself when was the last time I did anything worth your pride? When was the last time I was moved, not like a piece in a board game but truly moved. When was the last time I didn't see the world in an "you always stick your neck out" or "can't catch a break" kind of way. You are the kind they cut off ears for and start wars over. You are a distant planet, noone would get from afar. You are the dream that I can't remember but can't forget. You are the trap door magicians never reveal. You're my last trick. You're my grand finale.

December 18, 2006

“diamonds into coal.”

i am a terrible typer on a sidekick as proven in the previous post.

i hate hotel room life.

i hate doing interviews.

i hate reading interview i have done.

i am overdramatic.

i am overly pessimistic. i only see the worst in everything.

but i smile and nod along anyway.

i dont believe a word anyone says to me.

but id really like to believe in everything.

this list is boring. i miss my dog.

December 19, 2006

being in new york brings back strange memories of fall. i am really excited for everyone to see the new video tommorrow. though i am completely bummed out to see people selling tickets for ridiculous amounts of money for the friends or enemies tour. the whole point of this tour was for us to play some small rooms with our dedicated fans. i dont really think there is anything we can do legally about people who are taking advantage of this. the only thing i can think of is that we will go around venues before the show and try to give out a few tickets for free (i doubt we will have many extra as most have sold out). dont feed into this. we will keep playing smaller shows and secret ones- as well as a bigger spring tour. i promise you will get a chance to see us. we are going to go everywhere. please dont let these vultures get you down.

- xo

December 20, 2006

to only you:there was this girl- a doll. hanging and dancing on strings. black hair and smiling. she lived just off of a town called naivety... some place i have driven through from time to time. and i never had an idea. cut the strings so we could run down the street under trees and roll in the grass. never meant for it to become what it did in so many different ways. never meant to always leave the driveway headed one direction and never knew what waited when i returned. only that her eyes were the lights in the windows that i pulled up to in the snow. slipping off the ends of icy roads at nights racing home through the night no matter what. and the miles got father and farther in between. and i couldnt ever figure myself out to save a thing. but now i cut those strings and she is forever dancing or lying or waiting in the lit windows for vans and buses that came less and less. and i wrote the harshest words and she wrote the harshest words. she turned from a doll into a girl and i from a boy into a monster and back into a boy now and again. eyes always red and puffy. pride always on the line. things were much simpler when she was on strings for her i think. things were much simpler when the van only went so far. before i had to press a picture of her and paste it on dashes and inside of bunks everywhere. i cant explain how i got here. it doesnt make any sense. she could follow the articles and videos or my pieced together stories. or a dog. or a dream. or words that make half sense sent in the middle of the night. and even when im telling the truth it doesnt matter cause the phone is always dead. and i am always 30,000 feet in the air flying somewhere. but i keep the warmest memories close to my heart even when im at payphones and want to cut my insides out,, dry them up and mail them to her. "im sorry" doesnt matter anymore. the words have no meaning. im sorry i cut the strings and ran away. now when i come to look for her i dont know where to begin. its hard to not say "its all my fault" but it goes through my head over and over so i cant sleep with out the AMBIENce of my bed and the puppy. bane songs. boomerangs. badnews. arkansas. goodbye love i didnt know you well or maybe too well.

- xo

December 24, 2006

they say this thing between us is getting old, but i think of it more like vintage love.

im like one of those movies you buy in a hotel with every button but rewind.have at it.your jokes.your ring tones.it doesnt matter.i cant ever get the right words to the right people.lying on the side, tears fall from your left eye into your right.filling it and spilling over. and so on.spilling out. but not pretty like in the movies.phones are always dead.white lights hanging on houses, breath in the air-everything about right now reminds me that i am all alone.and how terrible i am because of the thoughts that run through my head.like im pretty sure i could get some sleep if you were dead and gone.but not in a "drop dead" kind of way, more like you couldnt fuck with my head anymore.a snow day on giving a fuck about anything.sit here and stare at the television because thats what im supposed to do.forget to eat.sit in the roped off corner of a club because thats what im supposed to do.forget to care.and i just want to write a story or a song that makes everyone forget their troubles but im not too sure that i have it in me.hot spots become luke warm.i just want one person to know me completely before i die.i want maternity wards on stage for the delivery.spent the afternoon in an mri- its like preparation for lying in a coffin forever. it was a fear i havent experienced since i was young. the shaking and the sounds and the closeness of it all. everyone loves an underdog. every dog will have its day. top dogs. all dogs go to heaven and such....

December 25, 2006

he said "i brought the hoody back all them other boys dont know how to act"

when i was little i wanted to be max from where the wild things are when i grew up.kind of bonkers, cause he was just a kid too.

12/25/06 Q&A

question

is it true you and andy had a fight? and now fall out boy is breaking up?

answer

nope. not breaking up anytime soon. contrary to whatever stupid things have come out of any of our mouths near journalists. we are currently doing better than brad and angelina- no break up in sight.

12/28/06

question

dear pete i hope you liked your christmas i know i did i got the clandestine bag i wanted and tickets to the red hot chili peppers concert i just wanted to say i look up to you because you let me down every time i needed help i asked you because i didnt know who to turn to my older brother being the jerk he is never helped me in any way and you never answered any questions with any substance anyways i dont know how many times i posted my questions but i digress i learned that you cant depend on the people you look up to, to help you out with advice i learned to help myself out and just face my problems and if i make a wrong turn well ill learn from that too so i just wanted to thank you for making me that much more independent i still love fall out boy sooo much too much in fact or so ive been told im not just another fan that listens to you guys and asks you stupid questions i am a fan that loves your music and i know not to depend on you for advice cause you cant help me i can only help myself sorry if im dragging on but im trying to get my point across im not sure if you will ever read this one im pretty sure you wont and im okay with that cause that will prove my point ill give you three trys to answer cause i dont know how your answering process works three cheers for questions with no substance -sincerely me *strike two*

answer

glad you had a good christmas. as far as answering questions- i miss alot of them- either do to timing or that i didnt feel capable of answering or whatever. usually i answer whatever sticks out to me. sometimes goofy ones, sometimes serious ones. we as a band try to be role models the best that we can. im sorry that you felt let down. its great to be independent and i think its awesome that this question wasnt a “fuck you i hate your band cause you didnt answer my question”… it sucks to feel skipped over i know that. im glad that it sounds like youre doing well. hope your family situation has gotten better.

question

i was watching release the bats and was wondering if your parents had seen it and what they thought of it. i was oddly fascinated yet disgusted. nice job

answer

i think my mom thinks its funny. my brother and me have been doing stuff like that since we were little- so its not too shocking.

question

Since your famous to some people. Would you ever like Wierd Al to make a song about you and the rest of the band? If so, what do you think he would sing about you and the band?

answer

we grew up on weird al. we’d love the honor of being mocked in a song of his- i think maybe “where is your beer tonight? i hope it is a heineken”

#fall out boy #pete wentz #livejournal

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tickly-trashcan · 3 years ago

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Jokester {Itto and Gorou}

A/N: HII ANGIEEEEE!!! :D i don’t think i’ve written for either of these two yet??? which is an absolute crime pls i love them sm so im glad im doing it now! Itto is such a good oni and Gorou deserves headpats and im rambling sorry but AAA i love these dummies anyway i hope you enjoy and remember to drink ur water!! also i formally apologize i couldn’t help but slip Kokomi in there because im in love with her and i saw an opportunity LMAO anyways enjoy!

Summary: Itto is trying to make the General of the Watatsumi Island Resistance laugh, but when his incredible sense of humor doesn’t seem to work, what will he resort to?

Word Count: 1.2k (under the cut)

Warnings: really bad jokes ig??

“And as I was saying, if we come in from here, the Shogun’s army shouldn’t see it coming and we’ll be able to gain some ground. Then we can-”

“Gorou!”

Kokomi cast a glance to Gorou, who had been listening to her plan intently, preparing to relay it to the troops. Gorou groaned as his name was called again, the tone of the person’s voice whiny now as Kokomi chuckled.

“Are you expecting someone?”

Gorou shook his head, though he knew exactly who it was that was calling his name outside of the tent. Kokomi waved her hand at him, smiling softly.

“We can go over this later. Go ahead,” She said, resetting the pieces on the map of Inazuma, likely meaning she would start over when Gorou returned. Not that he minded. He was very dedicated to their mission, and he would listen to the plan as many times as he needed to.

Gorou exited the tent and crossed his arms when a particular oni waved at him excitedly, bouncing on his toes.

“Gorou!” Itto called excitedly, running at Gorou. His ears perked up in alarm and he quickly avoided Itto’s hug, making the taller man pout as he looked down at the general. He grinned toothily.

“Don’t want a hug?”

“Itto, I’m busy. You can’t just barge in any time you want to have a beetle fight.”

Itto’s brows furrowed. “Who said I wanted to have a beetle fight?”

Gorou raised and eyebrow, his tail wagging once behind him as Itto sighed.

“Okay, maybe I do want to have a beetle fight, but that’s not why I’m here! Ayato leant me his joke book!” Itto said, pulling a small booklet out of his pocket as he grinned. Gorou’s patience was wearing thin, and he was half tempted to just walk back into the tent and ignore Itto, but he knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he did that.

“What’s so important about a joke book?”

“Well, you’ve been working really hard, I figured you could use a good laugh!”

Gorou frowned. “I’ve been working hard because I have something important to do. I don’t really have time for jokes, Her Excellency and I were going over the next battle plan.”

Itto put his hands together and pouted his lip, crouching down slightly so he was more at eye level with Gorou. Gorou, ironically, couldn’t say no to puppy dog eyes, no matter who they were from. Thoma, Itto, and even Kokomi often took advantage of this.

Gorou sighed reluctantly after Itto began to whine, waving his hand. “Fine, you can tell me a few jokes.”

Itto cheered, nearly tearing the book in half when he opened it from excitement. He flipped through the pages, looking for a good joke. He chuckled to himself as he read them and Gorou huffed, waiting for him to eventually pick one and relay it. Itto finally picked one, clearing his throat as he looked at Gorou.

“Okay, Gorou, what’s the best way to carve wood?”

Gorou rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, what?”

Itto snickered. “Whittle by whittle!”

Gorou groaned, doing a quick facepalm as Itto burst into laughter, nudging Gorou. “Come on, that was funny!”

This was a complete waste of time, thought Gorou. He could be halfway done with the plan Kokomi had devised, but he was sitting here listening to Itto’s awful jokes that he was reading from a book. Gorou sighed.

“Oh, oh, this is a good one!” Said Itto, flipping the page. “What’s the difference between a zither and a fish?”

Gorou tapped his foot impatiently. “What?”

“You can tune a zither, but you can’t… pfft! You can’t tuna fish!” Itto said, nearly bursting into laughter as he finished his sentence. Gorou’s eye twitched.

“I’m leaving,” He said, turning around. Itto wailed.

“No, come on! One more, pretty please??”

Gorou huffed, turning back around as he held up a finger. “One more.”

Itto nodded, flipping through the pages as he looked for a really good one, though Gorou doubted any of them were any better than the ones he had already said. He finally picked one, looking at Gorou eagerly.

“How do you make an octopus laugh?”

Gorou frowned. “How?”

“You give it ten tickles!” Itto laughed, reaching over and lightly tickling Gorou’s stomach to emphasize the punchline. He wasn’t expecting Gorou to jump back, smacking his hand away as he glared at Itto.

“Okay, good joke. Ha ha ha. Now can I get back to work?”

Itto stared at Gorou, and a small smirk crawled up his face. Gorou looked at him, mildly confused as Itto chuckled. “Uh oh, looks like someone’s ticklish~!”

Gorou narrowed his eyes at Itto, shaking his head. “I’m not, and I need to get back to work with Her Excellency. Now if you could ple-HEase!”

Itto grabbed Gorou’s sides when he turned, giving them a quick squeeze as Gorou jolted, squawking. He turned his head to look at Itto, whose eyes were bright with excitement and curiosity, his lips curled into a joyful grin. Gorou shook his head, grabbing Itto’s wrists as he went to pry them away. Itto squeezed his hands again, making Gorou squeak as Itto chuckled menacingly.

“Itto, don’t you dare-” Gorou started, but Itto didn’t even process what Gorou said as he began to squeeze his sides repeatedly, making Gorou shriek before he fell back against Itto, giggling brightly.

“Nohohoho! Ittohohoho, don’t! Gahaha!”

“You’re finally laughing! I guess I don’t need any good jokes to make you laugh, huh?”

“They were nohohohot good! They were ahahahahawful!” Gorou managed to squeak out as Itto found his hips, making him buck slightly. Itto gasped offendedly, shaking his head.

“They weren’t awful! After all, I’m one of the funniest onis around!”

“Thohohose johokes weren’t fuhuhunny!”

Itto chuckled, going for Gorou’s tummy as the general squealed, twisting around and trying to squirm away as Itto clawed at it with his nails.

“If they weren’t funny, then why are you laughing? Because I’m either really funny, or you’re really ticklish! What is it, Gorou? Am I the funniest oni around, or are you just super ticklish?”

Gorou whined through his laughter. He didn’t want to admit to either, but he knew that Itto would likely stop if he just picked one. Admitting he was funny would only boost Itto’s ego, but admitting he was as ticklish as he was would bruise his own. He didn’t even have time to think as Itto began to tickle his ribs, wiggling his fingers expertly against them as Gorou wailed.

“Okahahahay! You’re funny! Your johohohokes were funny!” Gorou exclaimed, Itto cheering as he finally let go of him. Itto flexed slightly, laughing triumphantly as Gorou caught his breath, shoving Itto lightly. Itto only chuckled, shoving him lightly back as Gorou pouted.

“I’ll have to tell Ayato just how hard these jokes made you laugh! I mean really, I must be a comedic genius!”

Gorou flushed. “Don’t tell anyone or I swear-”

“Oh, maybe I should tell Thoma too! Bye bye, Gorou!” Itto said, completely ignoring Gorou’s half-baked threat as he ran off, waving to him. Gorou sputtered, shouting after him to keep quiet. There was a hand on his shoulder and he turned with a red face to see Kokomi looking at him with a fond smile.

“Looks like his jokes were pretty funny, hmm? I could hear you laughing~” She teased, lightly poking Gorou’s side as he flushed, turning away from her.

“C-Can we just… finish the plan? Please,” Gorou said, and Kokomi chuckled, opening the tent flap as she nodded.

“Of course.”

#itto #gorou #genshin impact #tickle fic #angivariety

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korasonata · 3 years ago

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Joe and Cleo model streams extended cut Part 2! (Streams 3 and 4)

—

STREAM 3

—

Cleo (reading chat): “Be careful with that thing” Im very careful with knives. Except for that time when I wasn’t.

—

Cleo (in response to chat asking about her friend Corpse): Corpse is not my husband. Ok? And they wouldn’t be anyway. Because they.

—

Cleo: I’m very confused Joe. I don’t know how to feel.

—

Cleo: Ok. I can do that. We can do that chat! I believe in you and myself…I- I don’t. I’m not gonna lie, I don’t.

Joe: That’s why you got me here to believe in you!

Cleo: Awww, thanks Joe!

Joe: You’re welcome Cleo!

—

Cleo (reading chat): “Black beer or clear beer?” No beer! I don’t believe in beer, it’s fictional. That’s just how it goes.

Joe: Yeah. Some days you eat the bear, some days the bear eats you.

—

Joe: One of my viewers asks “are you and Cleo real life childhood friends?” Yes, obviously as you can tell from our accents—

Both: We grew up—

Joe: On the same block—

Cleo: Yeah.

Joe: Uh, along the Thames there—

Cleo: Yes.

Joe: You know, we took different paths in life. Cleo obviously went to university and perused geology and teaching, whereas I ended up with an asbo and a bunch of weird telekinetic powers and things just kind of went wild from there.

Cleo: Yeah.

Joe: But now we’re back together again.

Cleo: Yeah! I mean— I mean after you saved the world a few times. It’s, ah…it’s necessary it— it felt right. To come back together.

Joe: Yep. It’s just— it’s just…it was time.

Cleo (reading chat): You thought Joe Hills was from Glasgow? Oh no no no no no no. No no, same— it’s a cockney accent, can’t you tell?

Joe: Yeah, that’s why I’m so good at rhyming.

Cleo: *snickering* I don’t think they believe us.

—

Joe: What is the British equivalent of a coffee shop?

Cleo: Umm…a coffee shop.

—

Joe: It looks like piece 3/4 will make sense at some point in the future.

Cleo: But today is not that day. And to be honest, tomorrow’s not looking great either.

—

Cleo (reading chat): *laughing* Joe thinks everyone is as well adjusted as he is!

Joe: Oh, I’m terribly adjusted! Do not adjust your Joes! It won’t help, we’ve tried!

—

Joe (reading chat): “You all heard Cleo say Joe would look good in shorts right?”

Cleo: *heavy sigh*

Joe: I mean, I’m gonna say, I’m not getting as much exercise as I used to, so it’s- don’t get your hopes up Cleo.

Cleo: I- I-…I mean, there’s only one person I wanna see in shorts and it’s not you, so we’re all good.

—

Joe (in British accent): Spot on.

Cleo: Better. You’re getting better at that you know. You’re not great, but you’re getting better.

Joe: Yeah. Well the thing is I need to be able to blend when I’m there. You know I don’t wanna call attention to myself in my accent.

Cleo: …Joe?

Joe: Yeah?

Cleo: Nothing you ever do is blendable.

Joe: …That explains why I’m so bad at painting. And making margaritas. Just kidding, I’m great at making margaritas. The secret is to get real Cointreau.

Cleo: I…Don’t— I’ve never really had a margarita.

Joe: WHAAAAAAAAAT??!!?!

—

STREAM 4

—

Joe: So, I’ve got to cut up the last couple pieces from my fourth page out of 17.

Cleo: Is this where I tell you I’ve got about 6 pages left on the dot?

Joe: Out of how many, though?

Cleo: Out of about…14?

Joe: Wow, so you’re like, halfway there.

Cleo: Well, literally the instructions say I’m halfway there. Although—

Joe: Oh really? They congratulate you on that?

Cleo: W—no, they—they—……thanks Joe…

—

Joe: I bet whoever makes those models, now that you and I are getting them back in vogue, it’s like “oh no! If only I hadn’t sold the last one to Cleo, I could sell 1000 of these today.”

Cleo: I mean, I don’t think anybody in the stream is going to go out and buy one when they’ve seen what it’s done to us. And our souls. Or lack thereof.

—

Joe (reading chat): “If Joe is Jar Jar and Cleo is Padme, who’s Bail Organa?” …I dunno, VintageBeef.

Cleo: *laughing* Just—Just VintageBeef.

Joe: Just VintageBeef.

Cleo: It just is! You and I both know that, so you guys need to know it.

Joe: Yeah, cause like I don’t think Bail Organa had any kids.

Cleo: Yeah he did, he had Leia.

Joe: Well, but he adopted Leia.

Cleo: Ok.

Joe: And VintageBeef seems like, of all the Hermits, the one to most likely actually have the capacity to take on that sort of responsibility? I don’t know…

Cleo: No no, I can— I’m just running through the Hermits in my head, and I’m just like yeah that—that reads. That reads pretty well.

—

Joe (Dude bro voice): Has your heart even been weighed by Anubis, bro?

Cleo (dude bro voice): *laughing* Do you even lift? (Regular voice)…or no. That’s the opposite of what you want to do with a heart…

—

Cleo: I threaten to murder people all the time. One might say it’s part of my brand.

—

Cleo (reading chat): “Death threats are Cleo’s love language” *laughing* You’re not wrong.

—

Cleo: I’ve made plenty of mistakes! Learn from me! Like plenty of mistakes, which is why I’m doing this in my 40s. Joe just made his mistakes faster, that’s why he’s doing it in his 30s.

SILENCE

Joe: …Most of the jokes I wanna make about that, I—just in case my kid is tuning into the stream I’m gonna not—

Cleo: *laughing*

Joe: Because I am legally required not to disparage my ex-wife in front of her.

—

Cleo (in response to someone saying Joe’s hands are sufficient): No, my hands are sufficient. Joe has dexterous, wonderful hands. Get it right chat.

—

Cleo (about her Garrus mug): Next stream I shall use this for my beverage which I shall pretend is coffee. Which is what I used to do to the children at school.

Joe: Wait, you would pretend you were drinking coffee? What were you actually drinking? Rum?

—

Joe: My best is still the same, but my worst is getting less bad.

Cleo: That’s depressing and accurate. All at the same time.

Joe (tiredly): Yay! I strive for accuracy in all of my depressing statements. Cause it makes it harder to rebut them.

Cleo (softly and with care): I know.

—

Cleo (mocking people who push boundaries): If you were a PIN, what would you be?

Joe: *laughing* Like a PIN number?!

Cleo: Yeah!

Both: *laughing*

Joe: If you could be any PIN code—

Cleo: If you had an—what—what was your favourite PIN code, for example?

Joe: What’s your favourite 4-digit number?

Cleo: *laughing* What’s the 4-digit number you remember most in the world?

Joe: What’s the easiest to remember 4-digit number?

—

Cleo: I’m not going to get sushi from the Asda!

Joe (voice steadily getting higher): Oh my gosh, I am so glad that my face camera is off when we do those collab streams with Xisuma. Because like *laughing through the pain* a lot of them are just me screaming internally, but I’m not pushing to talk. And the reason I’m not pushing to talk is I’m also kind of screaming externally? And it’s just like, it’s just— *very high pitched incomprehensible gibberish*

Cleo: You—you do wonder sometimes with, with—with him. *laughing* See, thing is sometimes I’m not sure if he’s being serious or not, so—

Joe: If he says that he buys sushi at the Asda, I’m like 99% confident that he’s being serious.

Cleo: *laughing* He’s adorable and needs to be protected from this world.

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #zombiecleo #zombie cleo #joehills #joe hills

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teklarn · 3 years ago

Text

𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 (𝓹𝓽. 2)

character(s): katsuki bakugou x gn!reader

a/n: ok so i just started writing on tumblr and honestly in my opinion for my first time posting smth on this the first part did really well thank u for all the likes :) (told from second pov; e.g you, your) reblogs are greatly appreciated :))

summary: bakugou x gn!reader. they have feelings for one another but have no idea how to express them, however y/n has someone pining for their attention.

genre: a lil bit angsty

warnings: cursing, jealousy, mutual pining, slow burn romance, aged-up to third year, love triangle (square?), physical injuries, kirishima gets a little toxic, also shirtless bakugou (awooga), a crap ton of time skips bc i can’t write action scenes for shit, bakugou is a flirt (lowkey but yeah), mentions of blood

word count: 2112

pt 1 , pt 3

- - -

kirishima had broken the skin on his lower lip with how hard he was biting it. he stood in the bathroom, rinsing his mouth, ignoring the slight sting the water brought.

y/n was currently being blasted by bakugou, and they were fighting back.

jealousy panged in his chest.

bakugou had never let him know about how he felt about you, however kirishima was sure he felt something for them. you and bakugou were both a jumble of prideful and longing stares towards each other from across every room. the tension was thick enough to slice through. and while kirishima would never make a move in fear of ruining the friendship between him and bakugou, as well as him and y/n, gosh it didn’t stop him from wanting to.

he’d stood on the side, cheering you on to no end. the sports festival last year, the year before that, training exercises, he was always there. kirishima was always there.

whenever you needed him, whenever you wanted his company. so what did bakugou have over him? sure, the blond was strong and had bigger goals than kirishima, but why should that matter?

what did bakugou have? why would you want him more when he was never near you? never made an effort to see you to be there when you asked for help.

it was popular belief that bakugou was a noisy idiot, but he was actually quite a quiet boy. he didn’t bother to raise his hand in class, however he always knew the answer. he spoke rarely and only made conversation with those he was close with if they were the ones to make the effort to converse with him first.

jealousy, jealousy, jealousy. kirishima despised it.

whenever did he begin wanting to beat bakugou at something?

the cloud of guilt welling up in his chest was going to become unbearable, and soon everything he ever wanted to say was going to come up like word vomit at the worst possible time.

you swiped at your cheek, brushing off the crumbling dirt. your timing had been off, and their flip backwards had landed you in an awkward position. a vulnerable one.

honestly, though, it wasn’t like it really mattered. bakugou was a bit transparent himself. he wore a smug look like a golden medal, and held back his power just enough to keep you on your feet.

his cocky attitude was irritating and it drew you in like a moth drawn to a lamp.

sweat was beading down your temple. the day was exceptionally hot, the sun beaming down on your back like a proud child.

you and bakugou had been at it for a while. with anyone else, you would have quit by now. it’s not that you gave up easily. no, not ever. but fights could get boring, especially if you were just smashing away at them with your quirk and they were acting like they could take it.

perhaps you were being cocky.

this fight, though. this was interesting. not only because it was bakugou; also because you knew so little about him.

it was likely he never shared anything important to anyone. he was quite introverted.

it was interesting for another reason.

it was hot, bakugou sweats a lot. gosh, he looked delicious without a shirt on. he had a built figure accompanied by strong arms and a broad chest.

he’d filled out quite nicely the past few years. you hadn’t noticed until now how much he’d grown.

“don’t get distracted.”

your eyes snapped up from his chest to his eyes. bakugou became a blur, shooting himself off the ground and flipping once in the air before propelling himself back down.

before you could do anything, bakugou had you pinned, one leg pinning yours, both his hands wrapped around your wrists. he’d ditched his gauntlets, leaving the metal assistants in the sweltering heat, claiming he wanted to give you an equal fight.

he panted atop you, hands tightening.

tokage didn’t bother to leave her dorm today, thank goodness. it had just been the three of you. you, bakugou, and kirishima.

the red head had suspiciously vanished halfway through the fight, though.

bakugou’s crimson eyes bored into yours. neither of you blinked for a moment. perhaps just a small eternity each of you silently reveled in.

his erratic breaths slowed, and so did yours, although you stayed the same. unmoving, faces neutral but eyes giving away long-held secrets.

your ears flushed, and butterflies came rising up uncontrollably. you should have pushed him off. instead you gave him a wicked grin, which earned a look from him and you couldn’t tell if he was confused or annoyed.

“your big ass forehead is blocking the bright-as-hell sun. stay like this,” you mocked, wrenching your wrists from his grasp and snaking your arms around his neck.

his cheeks burned red. “w-what?”

“you heard me.”

he scoffed, tugging you off his neck and standing. “shut up, shitface. we aren’t even done yet.” he readied himself in a fighting stance once more.

“i thought you said you wanted to stop when you won?” you brushed yourself off as you stood.

“i know what i said. you probably weren’t even giving it your all.”

“’course i was.” you cocked your head. “why wouldn’t i?”

“you’re strong, damn idiot.”

you feigned surprise, pressed a hand to your fluttering chest. “the bakugou, dynamight himself, complimenting a humble soul like me? oh, i really must be good, then.”

“not as good as me.” his face dropped from a smile. bakugou never got enough training no matter how early or late he stayed up, or how many hours on the weekends were spent kicking a bag or sparring with friends. hard workers did all of the work there was a still wondered if they were doing enough. the number one spot wasn’t empty, but it was still reserved for dynamight.

y/n had collapsed on their bed. kirishima was itching to tell them how he felt, however he was stuck at the doorway.

they weren’t even dressed for bed, nor were they showered.

he settled with leaving his friend alone, and shut the door softly to find bakugou standing right behind him.

kirishima jumped back, closing his eyes in relief. “bakugou. what the heck man?”

“you’re creepy as shit.”

��i- what? you were the one staring at me while i-”

“while you peeped in on y/n?”

“i wasn’t peeping. i walked them back after the fight and they just collapsed. you were off doing something else and you worked them too hard.”

it wasn’t a shock that bakugou was still riled up from the duel. this boy had the energy of a mad man.

when bakugou didn’t say anything, kirishima said once again, “you overworked them.”

bakugou swat away the comment. “only because they’re not working hard enough.”

kirishima raised an eyebrow. “they work hard. they’re perfectly fine.”

“fine?”

“they’re amazing.”

“i know that, shitty hair. you think i’m blind?”

“everyone can make improvements at their own pace.” kirishima’s voice dropped.

“you train with me.”

“it’s an hour before curfew.”

bakugou jut a thumb in the direction of the door. “so? maybe you need some more practice, too,” he joked.

“you’re an ass, bakugou,” kirishima released a breathy chuckle.

the two wandered off to one of the training grounds. it was open, a wide court where they’d both kicked someone else’s ass.

the sun was just setting, a new cool breeze coming to fill the spot of the violent sun rays.

it was routine to fight each other out of nowhere. kirishima was usually quite playful, spewing jokes once in a while and taunting his friend.

this fight was different. his face was stone-cold. kirishima often took the defensive role, as his quirk didn’t allow him to project any direct attacks to bakugou.

it wasn’t like kirishima was angry at bakugou, but as soon as they started charging towards one another, he couldn’t hold back. his chest tightened, arms hardening and joints becoming strong and stiff.

with one clean sweep of his arm, bakugou was backing away from kirishima, propelling himself to the edge of the arena with a small blast. he’d always been up for a challenge. kirishima was willing to give him one.

his sudden competitive demeanor seemed to be egging on bakugou’s. the blond tongued the inside of his cheek, grunting as he shot forth, hair flying wildly.

swiftly, kirishima dodged, just barely missing a blast. his torso wasn’t hardened, so if he’d dodged any later, his stomach would have been scorched.

bakugou always took their fights seriously. he knew better than to underestimate the boy who had put together his very own rescue mission.

kirishima’s opponent stumbled from the momentum. he took his chance and brought a hardened elbow down on bakugou’s back, hearing a satisfying crack.

bakugou was crushed to the ground with the hit. his face smashed into the sandy ground. he coughed, turning over and spitting dirt to the side.

it took a moment for him to register what he did, but kirishima was at bakugou’s side within seconds. the sun was nearly gone, a pale blue sky flickering with the first sights of stars.

it was hard to make it out at first, but not impossible. kirishima saw the blood dripping and smeared just above bakugou’s lip. he groaned, cupping his face in both hands as he sat upright.

“argh” bakugou gasped. “shit, kirishima. what the hell?”

“i...i’m sorry dude, i didn’t mean to.” i wanted to, but i didn’t mean to.

bakugou raised an eyebrow and let a smile seep through his pain. “you’re improving, though.”

“are you alright?” kirishima traced the small cut on his lip from earlier with the tip of his tongue.

“i’m fine, i’m fine.” bakugou swatted his hand away. he struggled to get up, refusing kirishima’s help.

“we should head back before this gets any worse.”

bakugou kept his large hands hovering under his chin to catch the dripping and occasional chunks of blood.

although he wanted the duel to continue (it was finally interesting) bakugou wasn’t stubborn enough to keep going. so he nodded, once again denying kirishima’s efforts to help him out.

you were in the common area, fiddling with a rubik’s cube. it was just you, as everyone else was spending the night among each other. ashido had invited you to her dorm a while ago, but you’d denied, wanting to spend a few more giddy moments to yourself.

the door rattled, and in came your two friends, one with furrowed brows and the other with blood drenching the front of his shirt.

bakugou’s head was tilted up in an attempt to stop the blood from flowing down. his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the blood trailing down the back of his throat.

“oh my gosh,” you gasped out, racing to the bathroom. you came back with sanitary wipes in one hand and tissue in the other. “what happened?”

“we were training,” kirishima started, taking a few tissues from the box and handing them to his friend, “and i accidentally hit him too hard.”

“you didn’t hit me that hard. you barely did any damage!” bakugou objected. you approached him, and through his fingers, bakugou peered down at you.

you asked him with your eyes, and he gave you silent permission to pry his arms away from his face. “are you okay?”

“i’m just dandy,” he scoffed.

“dude, i’m really sorry—”

“shut the hell up kirishima. i don’t want your pity. i swear this is the only time i’ll surrender to you, you asswipe.”

you didn’t laugh, not even a chuckle. “bakugou, you need to see recovery girl.”

“what the hell? no way. all she’s gonna do is give me one of those shitty slobbery kisses and scold me for being careless.”

“your nose is broken,” you said gently.

“so? can’t you fix it?”

you raised a questioning brow. “you want me to help you?”

“can you or can you not?”

“i can try to set it but you’re better off going to recovery girl instead of settling with―”

“all i need is possible. i don’t want to deal with that old lady’s shit right now.” using the tissues kirishima had stuffed into his hand, he caught the remaining blood dripping down his nose. “let’s go.”

you were more than unsure. he would end up with a crooked nose if you made any small mistake, but he didn’t think twice as he grabbed your shoulder and led you in the direction of your dorm.

kirishima wished he hadn’t broken bakugou’s nose. not because he felt bad, though.

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hxneekyuu · 4 years ago

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accidental kiss || tsukishima kei, ennoshita chikara, miya atsumu, lev haiba

request : Hey Can I request a headcanon or one shot with Haikyuu characters (any of your choices) having an accidental kiss with their crush, you know, the cliché romance scene in drama's where the girl fell and male catches her and end ups kissing, or something when the girl turn around not noticing the close distance between the male, and their lips touches. Anything that is accidental

warnings : miya atsumu, Suna Gets a Haircut

a/n : so i did one of those random hq generator things bc i could only decide on one boi and that was tsukki,,, the results made me laugh so here you go -- btw these are all gonna be pre-dating bc thats just wonderful we love that

tsukishima kei

this is definitely all tsukkis fault

you two are at your house just vibing and at some point you head into the kitchen to make food

and hes leaning against the counter right in front of the cabinet you need to get to

but he has the audacity not to move the fuck outta the way when you tell him you need to get past

so youre like ok fuck it and just reach around him to open it

but the bowl you need is pretty high up so youre like on your tippy toes tryna get the damn thing and hes just sitting there watching you struggle

instead of helping you like he isnt damn near 6′3″

but riiiiight as youve got the bowl, you end up grabbing it a little too forcefully and you bring like a million dishes down with it

so ofc even though he definitely deserves it, youre not trying to concuss the poor guy with literal ceramic dishes raining down on him

so you kinda lunge forward to stop them all from falling

and, hearing the crash of dishes over his head, he naturally ducks because he doesnt want to die

honestly,,,, its more of a crash of your noses and foreheads but theres such chaos of like,,, trying not to die??

that at some point you just feel his mouth on yours and it deadass just stays there while you both are figuring out what the hell is happening

eventually he kinda pulls back but only a little bc he knows youre struggling to hold onto the dishes and he doesnt wanna screw that up

and he doesnt even say anything he just reaches up awkwardly and helps you set the dishes back on the shelf

and then he grabs the bowl youd been trying the get the entire time and hands it to you with a completely blank face

its a very awkward dinner im not gonna lie

mostly bc at some point he just starts cracking jokes about it and refuses to acknowledge it seriously bc he sucks

ennoshita chikara

ennoshita’s taking a break from studying with the second years on the team

mostly bc he never gets any studying done with them

so youre studying together for a test at his house

and its just been many many hours of studying so ofc youre both exhausted

so its not surprising to him when you just pass out on your notes

but the thing is,,, your heads right on top of a sheet that he needs

and for a while he just kinda studies without it

he studies other stuff and tries to remember it on his own so he can fill in the gap in his notes

but eventually hes like fuck i really need these notes

so he just,,, tries to slide it out from under your head really carefully

and it involves a lot of him getting really close and trying to lift your head and a bunch of really soft cute things that would be super embarrassing for him to be caught doing

like,,, if you happened to wake up

which of course, you do

and youre really confused bc you can feel his breath fanning over your face and his eyes are really close but not focused on you, theyre focused on smth under your face

so you lift your head to see what hes doing

but he freaks out and moves his face when he notices youre awake

and its just a litto brush of your lips over his as your faces are passing each other

but the poor bub jumps back like you just shocked the crap out of him

and then he apologizes for like the next ten minutes and its impossible to get back to studying bc youre both just panicking internally

miya atsumu

this literally happens like it does in the movies

it all starts with a chase scene

that really you should never have been a part of

youre just minding your business walking down the hall after school on your way to get your stuff

and its pretty empty bc you had a club thing so its late afternoon and no ones around

and you just hear it

men screaming

and then he appears, barreling around the corner like his life depends on it

and youre like

this cant be good

and when he sees you hes yelling out for you like HELP ME

but you somehow always manage to get caught in the miya twin antics so youre like

fuck no im out

but apparently youre not out bc atsumus grabbing your arm and dragging you behind him yelling smth about scissors and a haircut

and when you look back you just see suna rounding the corner, half of his little triangle haircut chopped off so he looks like a sad half onigiri,,,

but you know it was atsumu and that this man is definitely dead when suna catches him

so youre like okay fuck it i guess im helping him AGAIN

and you get outside to a section of the school where theres still sports teams practicing and lots of people around so you hide in a corner together

but the Suna Energy is approaching so atsumu fuckin freaks and does that cheesy movie thing where he ducks his head down so he wont be seen

but theres like a group of guys passing by and one of them just bumps into atsumus back and that shit just sends him right into you

and all he can think is “oops”

he only has one brain cell give him a break

but he just stalls completely and forgets about the whole suna thing

but ofc his hair is fucking piss yellow and suna has not forgotten

he ends up totally getting his ass beat but after that little smooch atsumus definitely a bit keen to see you more often

lev haiba

i fucking love this gif look at the litto shoyou go

this tall babie does not know the meaning of personal space he has no functional understanding of a Bubble

honestly he probably gets dangerously close to kissing you on a regular basis, considering you’re seatmates in class

he’s just ALWAYS in your space

at first he’s probably shy bc he doesn’t know you

but once you become friends he’s like THIS IS NOT YOUR DESK THIS IS JUST MY SECOND DESK

so every day there’s always one thing that’s super dangerous

last week it was him looking over your shoulder while you did work silently

yesterday it was him reaching across you to open the window on your left side

today he just really wants a bite of the bread you bought and are currently already eating

and when he wants smth, he gets Very Whiny

he’s so clingy and adorable that you can’t ever get mad

he’s like a little puppy how can you resist him

so when you’re finally like okay fine you can have a bite he’s like

MONCH

he doesn’t even wait for you to tear off a piece he just leans in for a bite

but you had said yes while in the middle of biting it so he essentially does that thing where you’re both biting it at the same time

but, again, he doesn’t know what personal space means

so he also doesn’t have the ability to gauge distances well

so he straight up just meets you halfway and presses his mouth to yours while he’s biting down

the boi probably doesn’t even notice

he just pulls back quickly once he has his bite and goes about his life

you literally are going to have to tell him he just kissed you

and after that he’s a total fucking mess

he doesn’t know what to do he never knows what to do

he��s just going to keep causing Chaos while he panics

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #ennoshita chikara #ennoshita x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #lev haiba #lev x reader #haikyuu headcanons

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t-lostinworlds · 4 years ago

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Not Going Anywhere (Tom Holland)

a/n: finally! lmao. gosh, i haven’t posted a fic in a while and im scared lol. also, i’m sorry for the lack of fics recently, i’ll try and be better with it. anyway, i’m not going to babble any more asdfghjkl hope you guys enjoy this one!

pairing: tom holland x actress!reader warnings: emotional scene, blood (fake), gun shots (kinda fake), character death (very fake lmao), lots of crying, and tom just being a wholesome boyfriend. word count: 7.5k+ requested:

first off, thank you angel! 💓 you’re too sweet omg 🥺 requests are a bit tricky for me ‘cause it depends if i get inspo or not but i did with this one haha so second, i’m so sorry this took soooo long. i hope i did it justice and that you like it love!

masterlist on bio & pinned post

-:-:-:-:-

It was the last scene of the day but neither you nor Tom were too keen on it. Both of you read the script, of course you knew this was a long time coming. This scene has been sitting in the back of your heads from the moment you both decided to take on the roles but still, it never really does prepare you mentally no matter how much you try.

Death scenes are always tricky to shoot, depending on what the undertone is. It can be a slightly easy one, the death of an enemy in which you'd channel relief, pride, a sense of accomplishment—maybe even in a sadistic, evil sense, happiness and joy. Or it can go around the hard route, the death of someone you love. There are so many ways you could go about it, so many emotions you can tap into. You can have regret, guilt, hurt, sadness, anger, fear, loss, and the list goes on.

It would've been easier to act it out with a regular colleague or a friend, easier to separate from reality and to snap out of it when they call cut. It'd be less daunting if that was the case. But when it's done with someone who you love off screen, a person who you can't ever imagine a world without, to get your mind to a place where you'd have to picture losing them, then it gets even trickier, much, much harder.

Couples don't usually do movies together that often, it can become unprofessional as some would say, but that wasn't the case with you and Tom. Both of you have been praised so many times with your individual works as you two can stand alone and carry a role with nothing but award winning performances. But whenever you two share a screen together, then it's an even bigger force to be reckoned with.

It's always a director's dream to work with you individually and as a pair. You were a match made in heaven off and on screen, the one-take-wonder duo. You two just bounce off each other so well no matter the roles you play, may it be enemies, acquaintances, lovers, past lovers, co-workers, and so on. You two share a look and it all clicks, then everything just falls into place.

You two get it done right away in the right way.

You love working with Tom, love seeing him do his thing in the flesh and you enjoy watching all the breathtaking and raw performance he gives. Plus, you get to spend time with your man, a gift with how conflicting your schedules can get sometimes. Not to mention, you get to do what you love together, a fun time on set as you make the most out of it while staying at the top of your game, be each other's cheerleader while maintaining proper professionalism.

But when it's heavy and emotional scenes like this upcoming one, you do find yourself wishing that it wasn't with him.

"How do I look? Still gorgeous I hope," Tom joked the moment you entered the set, posing over dramatically with one hand on his head, the other on his jutted out hip and a duck face to match, sporting his dirt—with specks of blood—covered and torn outfit. What he wore was a white shirt, black pants, black boots and a gray coat combo. While you on the other hand, wore dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt, a gray zip up hoodie that was fully open and a black leather jacket over it.

On a normal day, his silliness would've made you roll your eyes with a laugh, but today, it didn't even manage to make you crack a smile. In fact, a frown made its way onto your lips at the sight of him all dirtied up, a purple bruise under his left eye, a couple gashes on his cheek and a cut on his bottom lip to complete his beat-up look.

"Stop trying to ruin my Zen," you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest with a pout on your lips. It was already dark inside your mind, emotions at the ready for when they call action. And seeing him be his dorky self, trying his best to make you laugh, just being the sweet boy who owns your heart, it wasn't at all helpful in a sense that with what's coming, it makes you think what life would be like if those adorable traits of his would become a memo—

"I'm not," Tom chuckled softly as he slowly made his way over to you. Once he reached a close proximity, his warm palm found its way to rest on your cheek. His touch was gentle, thumb caressing your skin comfortingly, a loving smile making its way onto his lip as he kept his gaze steady on your troubled face. "Just making sure you don't get too into your head, darling."

Tom's eyes held nothing but utter concern because he knows you like the back of his hand, knows how you work. With actors, it's always taxing mentally and emotionally when it comes to scenes like this, but with you, there's an added weight. Because, one, you always go that extra mile, to dig much deeper into your thoughts, to make your brain work harder at channeling emotions on command and in a quick switch. That's what made you known to be such an incredible actress, pure talent mixed with hard work of course.

And two, you were doing the scene with him, your real life lover. For you to see his face and watch him slowly wither away, Tom can't even stomach the thought of what you could possibly be feeling, what kind of thoughts were swimming inside your head. He can't even begin to imagine if it was the other way around. He absolutely admires your strength for holding it together because if it was him, he would've already been balling before he could even get out of his trailer.

With that said, Tom was worried to the bone. It always pains him to see the struggle you go through to get your mind there. He hates seeing you in a state that wasn't pure happiness, even if it was all acting.

"It's really hard not to," you whispered, flashing him a small smile as you leaned into his touch. Tom's heart broke at the soft shake in your voice, a sigh coming out of his lips as he moved closer to press it against your forehead. His strong arms found their way around your form to give you the warmest hug he can muster without getting all the dirt and the little bit of fake blood he had on him, on you.

"I know, angel, I know," he whispered against your skin, giving your waist a gentle and loving squeeze that made you close your eyes with a shaky breath.

Tom has had a fair share of tough, emotional scenes, of course he understood. Some of them were even done with you, though none were as tragic and heavy as to what lies ahead.

He knows how hard it is to not let those dark thoughts cloud most of your mind. He's been guilty of failing at it a couple of times. Some scenes just affected him in real life before he could stop it. Tom so badly didn't want you to experience the same. He doesn't want you to go far too deep for the sake of your mental state, especially with how much worse this scene is going to be compared to previous stuff you've done. But there's not much he can do other than to be there for you to help you get through it and to make sure to snap you out of it before it gets way out of hand.

"You two ready to go?" Jessica, the director, interrupted with a sympathetic smile. You unwillingly broke away from Tom's embrace to give her a small nod.

"Don't think I'll ever be ready but let's get this over and done with," you breathed out. She watched the two of you for a moment, the gloominess in the atmosphere too obvious for anyone to miss. It's always like that with emotional scenes, the set catered to help the actors be in the zone, but it's a lot heavier this time around. When it's a real life couple, the difference is huge.

With a soft, understanding smile, she reached over to you and gave your shoulder a squeeze. "Two more minutes and then we start." Jessica nodded at the both of you curtly. You and Tom flashed her grateful smiles to which she gladly returned.

Once she walked away, Tom's gaze landed back on you, slight dread and concern glowing in his eyes but a reassuring grin played on his lips. He was trying his best to stay calm about it, even though he wasn't looking forward to it as well. He just didn't want to add more to your already worrying mind by looking too frantic with his concern.

"Come here and give me one last kiss."

"Don't say it like that," you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as his choice of words weren't exactly the best.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, darling," Tom rushed once he realized how it sounded like, rubbing your arms comfortingly and giving it a gentle squeeze, silently urging you to look at him. Once you opened your eyes and met his gaze again, he tilted his head to the side with an adorable pout. "Can I have a kiss? Pwetty please?"

You shook your head at your man with a sigh, the corners of your lips lifting just a little as you met him halfway for a short but sweet, loving kiss.

"You've got this, okay?" he whispered once you pulled away, his breath hot against your lips as the tip of his nose nudged yours tenderly. You flashed him a small yet thankful smile, nodding in response before leaning close again to give him a quick peck.

"Places you two!" Jessica called out.

Tom's hands found yours, his fingers delicate as he lifted them up to his lips, a kiss on each of your knuckles and another reassuring squeeze before he lets you go.

You treaded your way towards your first marker, Tom's just a couple feet behind you. You looked over your shoulder in hopes to find his eyes before everything starts, a wash of relief coating your body once you saw that it was already set on you. You two shared a look, Tom flashing you one of his many charming grins—one that you adore so much—in reassurance, throwing in a thumbs up as he put his right foot forward. You did just the same, only breaking his gaze when you felt someone tap you on the shoulder.

You turned to one of the crew who handed you a Glock filled with blanks, a soft thanks escaping your lips followed by a deep intake of breath. You closed your eyes before exhaling slowly, clenching and unclenching your fist around the gun as you slowly slipped into character.

The two of you were undercover agents, partners turned recent lovers to be specific. The start of the scene was that you've just managed to get Tom out from his unfortunate capture, the abandoned warehouse where he was kept and you just escaped from, situated behind. You've managed to take out all the guys in the warehouse together but you have no idea if someone had called in backup so it was needed and safer to get as far away from the place as soon as possible. Hence why you two are going to be running from point A to B. But once you reach point B, then the scene happens.

"Ready and action!"

You took on a sprint, chest heaving as you kept looking back to make sure Tom was following. He was running just loosely behind you, a slight limp in his movements given that he isn't in the best of conditions due to the kidnapping.

"Come on!" You slowed down a little to wait for him, offering out a hand for him to take. He was so close to reaching it when his gaze shifted from your hand to somewhere behind you, eyes widening at the sight.

"Look out!" Tom exclaimed, hand quick to grab your outstretched one to pull you into his body. Both his arms wrapped around you tightly as he turned around in one swift motion so that your places were now switched. Then you heard five deafening gun shots, Tom's body jerking the same number of times before he slowly leaned forwards, his body getting heavier as his weight slowly rested more on you.

"No!" you shrieked, one hand wrapping around his torso as you lifted the other one hurriedly to aim your gun at the armed person behind him, pulling the trigger a couple of times to let loose of the blanks. You heard a thud next, an indication that the person has been taken care of.

Tom's whole body slumped, you struggling to hold his weight as he gradually slipped from your grasp, your heart beating rapidly against your chest when you felt something damp coat your fingers that were rested on his back. Your gaze landed on his face with wide eyes, calling out his character's name a few times as you tried your best to let him down on the pavement as gently as you can manage.

Tears welled up in your orbs, your throat closing up as you kneeled beside his body, anxiously checking to see what was wrong even though you already knew that everything was wrong. You took off your jacket hurriedly, bunching it up and placing it under his head for support. A sharp pain squeezed at your heart at the sight of him struggling to breathe, coughing out blood while he willed his eyes to stay open, his white shirt slowly turning crimson.

"No, no, no," you croaked, letting go of the gun to cup his face, fingers trembling as you tried to keep his head steady. Frantically, you reached into your pocket with your free, blood-covered, shaking hand, taking out the phone and hastily dialed zero to send out a distress signal.

Tom lets out a groan laced with pain as his eyes scanned your face, muttering out your character's name to get your attention, voice barely audible.

"Yeah, I'm here, I'm right here," you whispered as you met his brown orbs, a soft smile on your lips as you dropped the phone so you can tend to him with both hands. You brushed away the hair that managed to stick on his sweat-littered forehead, his blood from your hand tainting his crown, not the best of sights to see.

Tom's eyes started to gloss up as he kept letting out ragged breaths. You let out a broken sob as the heartrending sound filled up your ears, squeezing agonizingly at each vein in your heart. "S-Stay with me, please," you stammered, his skin turning a bit colder against your warm palm, your breathing turning shallow as you struggled to keep your own self together.

"Help! Please help!" you wailed, looking around the empty place frantically before your gaze landed back on the man in your arms, life slowly slipping from his grasp. "You're going to be okay," you repeated over and over, unsure if the words were said to reassure him or yourself.

The feeling of your jeans getting wet at the knees from the blood that pooled on the ground made you let out a broken cry of despair, eyes scanning his body for only a moment, the sight of red making you want to hurl. And you were too scared to look away from his eyes for far too long, scared that things will take a drastic turn in a split second.

Slowly, weakly, Tom lifted a hand up to cup your damp cheek, thumb caressing your skin as a small, tired smile made its way onto his lips. This made you cry even harder, your nimble fingers curling around his wrist, turning your head slightly for a second to give his palm a warm kiss.

"R-Remember when I-I said I'd t-take a bullet for y-you?" he sputtered, though the smile on his lips was still there, charming as always, his thumb capturing the tear that escaped your eye before it could have the chance to land on your skin.

You bit your bottom lip to suppress a whimper, shaking your head at his ability to make light of the situation. You let out a shaky breath. "I do, I remember. To prove how much I mean to you even when it's not necessary."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, running his thumb over your cheek, a few tears escaping his eyes as he scanned your gorgeous face distorted in utter distress, as he stared at the pain that glowed inside your beautiful orbs.

"N-No, there's nothing to apologize," you breathed out, your thumb grazing the apples of his cheeks as you stared right into those brown eyes you've grown to adore and more. "You saved me," you sobbed, flashing him a small smile laced with gratitude. "You saved me."

Tom nodded slowly with a hum, eyes staring right back at yours with the utmost adoration coating them, although in a few short seconds, it was quick to be replaced by worry. "You n-need to g-go," he hissed in pain, his hand grabbing your wrist to try and pry you away from him. It still wasn't safe to stay and he wanted nothing more than for you to be as far from harm, well and alive.

"No! I'm not leaving you here," you protested, a sob tied at the end of your sentence as you took his hand and placed it back on your cheek. And he held it there, channeling all the strength he had left for him to feel your skin for a couple moments more. "Help is on the way just, s-stay with me," you croaked.

Tom's breathing started to turn labored, his head falling back gradually as there was not much strength left for him to keep it still. "Hey! h-hey, look at me," you rushed, command in your tone as you went to hold his face with both hands, keeping his head steady only to see that his eyes were slowly fluttering close. "Keep those eyes open! Keep those eyes open," you said through gritted teeth, your man listening to your voice that was filled with desperation as he met your gaze again.

"P-Promise me—" Tom interrupted himself with a cough of blood, letting out a soft groan before his eyes were back on yours. "Promise me, y-you'll find h-happiness."

"N-no, don't say that, you're going to be okay." You shook your head desperately with a whimper.

"Promise me," he repeated, voice firmer this time.

Your bottom lip trembled. "I promise, just h-hold on, p-please," you choked. "Somebody! Please h-help! Please!" you yelled at the top of your lungs, urgently looking towards nothing, a sob following suit as your voice broke, hope slowly leaving you.

"H-hey, sweetheart, l-look at me," Tom called out as he tapped your cheek weakly. A whimper escaped your lips as you met his gaze once again, the emotion that shined in them so clear as day. He knows that it was time, and the certain look he was giving you made you understood. Although, you still shook your head in pure denial, muttering protests after protests under your breath as you gave his hand that rested on your cheek a tight squeeze while you kept the other steady on his face, horrified to let go even for a split second for he might be gone when you do.

"I love you," Tom breathed out, voice soft but the truth loud and clear. It was the first time he had uttered those three words, and you so wished it was done in a much, much more different circumstance. You leaned down to swiftly capture his lips in a bitter-sweet kiss, a sigh coming out of him only to be mirrored by a soft cry from you.

"I love you too, oh so much," you whispered to no one but him and him only, pulling away to meet his eyes, a certain glow now coating them at the sound of those lovely words filling up his ears. A satisfied smile made its way onto Tom's lips, his eyes locked with yours, glowing with utmost love.

But as Tom took in one deep, sharp breath, you held yours, only letting it out in a form of an excruciating sob once he completely stilled in your arms. His hand slowly slipped away from your face until it fell limp on his side, his chest laying flat, no more sign of any movement.

"No, no, no," you cried, tapping his cheek to get him to move again but to no avail. You shook your head frantically, your tears blurring your vision some more, heart in your throat as the droplets coated his face at a faster pace. "No! P-Please!" you screamed, cupping his face with trembling hands, letting go for a moment to hold his shoulder, shaking him harder in utter anguish. "C-Come back! P-Please! Come back to m-me." Your fingers found its way back to rest on his cheeks as you choked in short breaths, his eyes wide open but already dimmed, those bright, brown beautiful eyes somewhat turned gray.

"Don't leave me please," You croaked out, voice now hoarse from all the crying you've done. "I can't live without you. Please, come back to me," you whispered one last time, taking a few seconds more to stare at his face, looking at him as a flicker of hope coated your eyes for a split second before it completely died out. You dropped your head onto his chest and let out deep, broken sobs, choking in sharp breaths in between each sound that only made things more heart wrenching to hear.

It was so hard for Tom to keep his own tears at bay, a stinging, horrible feeling gripping at his chest as you cried your heart out. To watch the absolute hurt across your beautiful features, the desperation on trying to "bring him back" was too much of a painful sight to see. If he had a choice he would've opted on closing his eyes, but Jessica had specific instructions to keep them open, to make it more realistic, more effective in a sense that it would pull at the viewer's heartstrings a bit more.

But my God it was so hard to watch you be in so much pain and lay completely still, the heartbreaking sound of your sobs, the way you begged, it was absolute torture, especially when he can't do anything about it just yet. And the way your touch was frantic, desperate, it was hurting his heart harshly, agonizingly and he so badly wanted it to end because he can't take any more of just watching you go through so much pain. But most especially, he wanted it to end for your sake.

At the sound of your own cries, lungs burning with your head pounding, ears ringing, chest too tight and filled with utmost pain, you didn't even notice Jessica call out cut. The moment you knew it was all done was when you felt strong arms wrapping around your form that was still shaking with sobs.

"Hey, hey it's okay, it's over darling," Tom rushed as he sat up quickly, prying you away gently so you could meet his eyes. It broke his heart to pieces when he saw the hurt that still coated your orbs, though he was glad to see the relief slowly seeping back in once you blinked away the tears. You finally snapped out of it once you were able to take a good look at him, your bottom lip trembling as you tilted your head to the side, as if to examine if he was actually real. "I'm okay, see?" Tom hummed, voice gentle as he took both your hands and placed one on each of his cheeks, his skin warm against your touch. "I'm here my love."

All you could do was nod with a breath of relief, body falling forwards so you could sink into his arms, not a care in the world about the fake blood that drenched him. You just needed to be close to him.

Tom sighed as he pulled you tighter in his embrace, pressing his warm lip against your crown in the process. "Breath my darling angel, it's over," he murmured, followed by sweet nothings as his hand ran up and down your back comfortingly, your breathing slowly growing calmer at the tender sound of his voice.

You stayed like that on the ground for a minute, Tom only pulling away slightly when he heard footsteps approaching. "Do we need another take?" he asked dreadfully as he saw Jessica make her way over. He desperately didn't want you to go through that all again but it was out of his control. And if another take was needed, he's going to have to ask for an hour break, for your sake.

You lifted your head up just in time to see Jessica shake her head no, gesturing towards the both of you as satisfaction coated her face. "It's already the best for me. I mean, they call you two the one-take-wonder duo for a reason. And I've got tears in the crews' eyes to further prove my point." With a knowing look, she added, "But you two can watch it back if you like."

Tom turned to you, hand going up to wipe the couple more tears that littered your skin, touch sweet and reassuring. "Do you want to?" he asked softly.

You gave out a small nod. "Yeah, maybe I can do things better," you sniffled.

Tom scoffed loudly at that, gawking at you with wide eyes, taking full offence of your own words for you. "Are you kidding me? That was already amazing," he stressed. "Quit being so overly critical of yourself, darling," he added, taking both your hands in his comfortingly.

"Thank you bubba," you whispered, looking at him with an adorable pout, eyes glowing with the utmost gratitude that Tom felt his heart melt ten times over, especially with the nickname.

He flashed you a bright smile. "Now, let's get you off this wet floor." And that he did as he helped you up, pulling you in for another warm hug once you've got your feet under you.

Crew members quickly crowded you both as they helped you out of the now wet hoodie and coat, giving you each some water and two big, black warm jackets to compensate for the cold. You and Tom then made your way over to the director's chair right after.

You now stood beside Tom in front of the monitor as they started to play the clip back. Both your arms were fully wrapped around him, cheek pressed up against his chest as he slung his arm over your shoulder. His heart was turning soft at how adorable you were being, although he felt a sense of worry as well, since it seemed like you were scared to be too far away from him.

Even when they were fussing around the two of you, he saw how you kept giving him a glance, like you were scared to let him out of your sight. And once they were done, you were quick to grab his hand, as if you didn't want to feel the absence of his touch for far too long. So, he made sure to keep you as close as he can, giving you random kisses and squeezes in comfort from time to time, to reassure your mind that he was, in fact, here.

"Whew, look at you go," Tom praised, staring in pure awe at the monitor as he rewatched your performance, giving your arm a loving squeeze with a kiss on the forehead to match. "You make me look so talentless, love."

"Shut up," you said in pure disagreement given that his performance was breathtaking just as always. He did make things more real, made it hurt even more the way he portrayed dying so well. Your own performance improved because of his. As said in the beginning, you two just bounce off each other so well.

You peeked at the monitor for only short moments as you can't bear to watch it back fully, snuggling into him every once in a while with your eyes fluttering close. Tom was quick to notice this, giving you another peck on the forehead to remind you that it was okay, that things were alright. You hummed at his sweet gesture, squeezing his torso lovingly in return.

"Damn," Tom gushed once the clip ended, wiping away the stray tear that slipped with the back of his hand before turning to you with nothing but utter pride in his eyes. "And the Oscar goes to..."

"Stop," you whined, burying your face on his chest shyly, prompting a hearty chuckle from him.

"One-take-wonder duo I tell you," Jessica admired, giving you both claps on the back before she lifted up her megaphone. "That's a wrap everyone!"

Loud cheers and applause filled the air, Tom giving you a tight, warm hug as you both slowly relaxed in each other's embrace, glad that the day was almost over. You then made your way to where your teams were sat. Both of you were quick to notice how most of them were smiling proudly at the two of you with a bit of shine in their eyes.

"Harry," Tom gasped as soon as his brother came into view, Harry's face red with a faint sniffle coming out of him. "Were you crying?"

"No," the young lad grumbled, turning away in hopes to hide the way he wiped his face but still failing miserably.

"Oh Harry come here," Tom lets go of you for a moment to tackle his brother in a bear hug, making smooching noises as the older sibling tried to give the other a kiss on the cheek, Harry squirming like his life depended on it. You couldn't help the soft laugh from escaping your lips at the sight of the two boys, Tom's head perking up at the sound, a bit of relief coating his features as he tilted his head at you with a smile of his own.

"Get off you div," Harry groaned, pushing Tom away playfully, the older lad laughing before pulling away from him. "It's not my fault you two made it look so real. I genuinely thought Tom died for a second."

"Aw, thanks bro—"

"Correction, Y/N made it so real. The moment you started crying," Harry paused, blowing out his cheeks with a shake of his head, turning to you with both hands up in surrender. "I went."

"Thank you Harry." You shot the young lad a tired but grateful smile, giving him a quick but lovely hug.

"I'll let that pass for now because I do agree," Tom said, shooting his brother a playful glare before he made his way back to you, arms taking home around your waist as he looked at you adoringly. "You were incredible my love."

You smiled at him, leaning closer so you could give him a sweet kiss, just to show more of your gratitude. Tom hummed in pure satisfaction against your lips, giving your waist a tender squeeze before pulling away.

"Let's wrap up the day shall we?"

With that, the two of you made your way over to the wardrobe trailers to get out of the dirty work clothes and into comfier ones. Once out of the trailer, you now wore a pair of black leggings and Tom's pink hoodie to which he insisted on letting you wear over your tank top, given that it was starting to get colder out. He, on the other hand, wore his black sweatpants and a tight maroon t-shirt, handsome as ever but the make up on his face—the bruises, cuts, fake blood—were a bit of a distraction, feeding more thoughts to your still troubled mind.

"Come here, love." Tom beckoned you over once he noticed how you stared at him with a certain look in your eyes and a matching frown. His warm hands found yours, pulling you closer to him so he can give you loving kisses all over your face, all sloppy, loud and sweet. He only stopped when he was satisfied with the little giggles that escaped your lips. "Stop thinking too much, darling."

You flashed him a smile, nodding to say that you understood. "Are you not cold?" you asked in concern, slight guilt swimming in your orbs given that you somewhat stole his hoodie. Tom chuckled with a shake of his head, slinging his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to his side as you then made your way to the make-up trailers.

"As long you're here beside me? My human heater? Never."

***

It was finally time to get back to the hotel.

You and Tom sat at the very back of the van, your head rested on his shoulder while his head rested atop of yours. You've been nothing but silent the whole ride, Tom not pestering you much because he knows you were drained to the bone. He just gave you occasional squeezes on the thigh, his fingers sometimes drumming some random beat just to distract you a little for what was going on inside your mind.

The moment your shared hotel room door closed, lock clicking in the process, Tom dropped your bags on the floor with the loudest sigh of relief.

"Shower together?" Tom offered with a wriggle of his brows, jokingly of course as there was no malice in his intent. You both were too tired for it, a simple shower would suffice.

A sweet smile made its way onto your lips as you nodded, taking up on his offer.

Tom moved over to you to give you a short kiss, mumbling a 'wait here' against your lips before pulling away and disappearing into the bathroom. He came back out not long after sporting nothing but his black boxers, beckoning you over with an open palm to which you gladly took. Hot steam met your skin as you stepped inside the en suite, Tom stopping by the sink as he turned to face you.

"Arms up," he said, your brows furrowing in confusion but you did as told anyway. Once you have both hands in the air, Tom took hold of the hem of your—his—hoodie and lifted it up your body, a pout making its way onto your lips once it was off. He gave your jutted out lip a peck, chuckling at the slight confusion on your face before he went to take your tank top off next.

"I'm not a baby anymore Tom. And I didn't lose any limbs," you pointed out with a soft giggle, top-half now naked in front of him

"Says who? As far as I know, you're still my baby." He shrugged, hooking his fingers on the hem of your leggings and pulling them down—along with your underwear—until he was squatted on the floor. He tapped your thigh lightly, silently telling you to lift each leg up one by one so he can take off the fabric fully. Now, you were left completely bare for him. You looked down at your man and shot him a pointed look, Tom meeting your gaze through his eyelashes as he lets out a sweet chuckle.

"Just let me take care of you love, you've had a long day," he hummed, giving each of your thighs a chaste kiss before he stood back up to his full height. He just wanted to let other things occupy your mind instead, didn't want you to sit too long and think about the scene you just did. Plus, he really did want to just take care of you, to show you the utmost love and affection as you deserve nothing but all and more, especially after today.

Another sweet kiss landed on your lips before he got rid of his boxers next, taking your hand soon after as he guided you inside the glass shower box, pulling you right under the hot water. And take care of you was exactly what he did as he helped you wash up as well. You've told him a couple of times how he was being a bit much, especially when he stole the loofa off your hands to do it himself, shampooed and conditioned your hair. But he simply repeated the same thing over and over:

"Just let me take care of you."

A few more giggles and chuckles with a couple sprinkles of making-out later, you two got out of the shower and dried up. Then after that, Tom gave you one of his shirts to wear—paired with only your panties—and helped you blow dry your hair so you could take a quick nap, an easy breezy task for him since it was not the first time. He's done it before on various occasions.

Once you were soundlessly asleep—after a few more kisses from him as he tucked you in because yes, your boyfriend is extra—Tom took it upon himself to order in some food, that way you'd have something to eat when you wake up, knowing that you probably wouldn't want to go anywhere to have a meal. He sent Harry a text in the process saying that the two of you would be staying in for the night in case the team wanted to go out for dinner.

In his gray sweats and white t-shirt, Tom sat down on the couch right by the window near your side of the bed, pulling out his computer to get a bit of work done while he waits. He didn't want to risk waking you up by slipping in beside you, didn't want to disturb your blissful sleep.

He kept giving you glances from time to time, just to check up on you, his heart growing bigger whenever he does so. Warmth just spreads across his chest each time he sees your beautiful face with nothing but slumber and peace coating your features.

The food arrived about thirty minutes later, Tom setting his laptop down to open the door, room service strolling in with fresh and hot food. He closed the door after he tipped the guy generously, walking over to the table to take some chips off the plate, humming at the wonderful taste.

Opting on letting you sleep for a couple minutes more, Tom went back over to the couch. But just as he was about to sit back down, he heard you let out a troubled groan in your sleep. Surely enough when his gaze landed on you, your face was now contorted in pure distress, brows knitted together as you shifted on the bed, one hand desperately clinging on the pillow while the other on the white sheets.

"Tom!" you yelped and bolted straight up, eyes frantic and chest heaving as you looked around the room for him.

"Hey! Hey." Tom was by your side in an instant, the bed dipping as he sat down, his hands cupping your face gently to make you look at him straight in the eyes. "Darling, hi, I'm here," he whispered with a sweet smile, heart aching at the sight of fear and the fresh sets of tears that now coated your eyes.

Your bottom lip trembled as you stared at him for a couple seconds, moving closer towards him so you could bury yourself in his arms. "I'm sorry," you mumbled against his chest, both your arms wrapping around his torso as you let out uneven, shaky breaths.

"Nothing to apologise for angel. It was just a nightmare," he murmured, rubbing your back sweetly as he swayed you side to side. "It's okay, you're okay." He held you like that for as long as you needed, whispering sweet nothings into your ear in hopes that it'll help you calm down. Tom only loosened his hold around when you softly pulled away, breathing now calmer, sniffling close to none.

"Want to watch a movie while we eat? The chips are really good," he said, both hands now holding your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks tenderly as he wiped away the little tears that sat on your skin. "Spider-Man: Far From Home so we can nitpick and criticize my performance together?" he added jokingly, earning a soft giggle from you as you nodded.

With half of the food gone, you were well into fifteen minutes of the movie. There were a couple of pauses done of course. Now you were snuggled up cozily beside him, your head on his chest as he rested his back against the stacked pillows. He had one arm over your shoulder to keep you close, fingers grazing up and down your arm soothingly while his eyes were set on the screen in front, his warmth comforting you in more ways than one.

The whole pole sequence in Venice was when he felt you start to shift in his arms, a shaky breath coming out of you when you saw him hit that wall as he got drenched in water. And then you spoke,

"Tom, what if—"

"Stop it right now and don't even finish your sentence," he scolded, already knowing where you were going with this. You pulled away from his embrace and sat up straighter just so you could have a full look at him, a deep frown already on your lips.

"You do your own stunts," was all that you said, but Tom already knew what you meant by it, didn't need you to explain further.

With a sigh, he sat up as well, touch tender as he ran it up and down your arms. "Darling, I am being careful with the stunts, you know that. And when it's something too dangerous, you also know that I refuse to do it," he said. "Plus, you're right there to stop me when I'm pushing myself too hard. You're looking out for me too, my love."

Even though you gave him a nod, Tom saw how that still didn't ease your mind, saw it clear in your eyes. He couldn't blame you either knowing how that scene made you think the worse of thoughts. He understood you completely, knowing that if the roles were switched, he would be behaving just the same if not much worse with how overprotective he is of you. He'd probably wrap you in a bubble to be honest, to make sure you're as far away from harm as possible and that nothing was going to happen to you.

"Come here," he hummed, taking your hands and pulling you close until you were straddling his lap, giving your fingers warm kisses before he placed them, flat against his cheeks. Tom's warm palms found their way under his shirt that you wore, settling his hands right on your waist, his thumb running over the swell of your belly fondly, skin touching skin, makes you feel much closer to him.

Tom gaped up at you with nothing but absolute love in his eyes, a glow that's made your heart grow warmer, a look that's added more sincerity to his words. "Nothing's going to happen to me okay? You're going to be stuck with this very handsome face for a long, long time."

You giggled at that, dipping your head so you could capture his lips in a kiss filled with the rawest of emotions from gratitude, happiness, adoration, passion, love. Tom didn't need words for him to know that you were thankful for him, that you were so happy to have him in your life, he can already feel it. Your actions will always speak louder volumes, justifying all the emotions you needed to get across that simple words never could.

With a satisfied groan, Tom pulled you even closer, his hands snaking up your bare back, your shirt hiking up at his action. He felt up your warm skin deliberately, touch driven with passion as he nibbled on your bottom lip, wanting to taste more of you. You happily obliged with a soft moan, your fingers treading through his slightly damp curls as you welcomed him in. And Tom made his presence known through his touch, to remind you that he is here with you, that he will always be here, and that he is—

"Not going anywhere."

-:-:-:-:-

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wouldpollyapprove · 5 years ago

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Damsel In Distress

Requested: Can I request 15 from the Angst list with Tommy please? She gets hurt at the betting ship by one of his enemy’s and tries to hide it. Love your Fics!

10 from fluff and 15&18 from angst pleaseee i love your writing

hi! firstly, i absolutely adore your writing! may I please request angst prompts #15 and #18? perhaps the reader being a shelby herself? but either way, I’d accept whatever you seem comfortable with! thank you

Requested by Anonymous & @casualcolorstarfish

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: language, alcohol, violence

A/n: This is based off the episode in season one when the Lees attack the betting shop. It’s not word for word with what everyone said because I’m lazy and didn’t want to go back and watch it. I hope you guys like it because I kinda just wrote this as things came to me so it might not make much sense.

Masterlist

“What the bloody hell happened here?” Tommy’s voice boomed through the betting shop that looked as if a bull had been let loose in it. Paper strewn across the floor, tables, and desks turned over. If John hadn’t called his fucking meeting, none of this would have happened.

The poor employee, who had been left to deal with the mess, grumbled, “The Lees, all of them. Cousins, nephews. Even the bastards.” He rubbed his right temple where a club had left a large goose egg. “They’ve taken anything they can lay their hands on. Four cash boxes.”

Polly turned over a metal bin with the end of her shoe. This is what they got for everything they’d done. It wasn’t right, no, but it seemed to be fair. Revenge comes to those who double-cross, lie, steal, and kill there way to the top.

“They left these,” the man groaned, getting up from where he sat and handed over a pair of cutters that he’d found under a table.

“Wire cutters?” Polly raised a brow as Tommy examed them. “Why would they leave wire cutters?”

Gears clicked into place in her nephew’s mind. “Nobody move.” Fear and panic washed over his face. “I think our friends are playing the game.”

“What game?” Polly, sighed, going to run a finger along a toppled over desk.

“Pol, don’t,” Thomas warned. She brought her hand back to her side at his words. “Don’t touch anything.” He surveyed the room, the war flashing before him in bright colors. They were playing war games now. “Erasmus Lee was in France.”

“Shit.”

“When we gave up ground to the Germans, we’d leave behind booby traps set up with wires,” Tommy stated, remembering a time he helped his comrades leave a booby trap. “Then we’d leave wire cutters. It’s part of the joke,” he let out an angry laugh. “Somewhere in here, there’s a hand grenade.”

“Holy Jesus,” Polly muttered, the shit her nephews got her into.

“Attached to a wire,” he continued. “Don’t move any chairs. Or open any doors.”

While the Shelbys were searching for the grenade, Y/n was halfway home. Stumbling as little as possible, she held her coat tight against her and her hat as low as it could be without falling off. She looked like she’d been through hell, a black bruise on her cheek, a cut under one eye, blood trickling down her leg from a cut she’d earned on a glass. All over, she was covered in black and blue bruises, but that wasn’t going to stop her from reaching the safety of her family’s home.

She had been sitting in the kitchen when the Lees entered the shop, as quiet as a mouse. No one would have known they were there until all hell broke loose. Chairs were smashed, tables turned over, and then they entered the kitchen.

Y/n wasn’t even supposed to be at the shop. She was supposed to go shopping with her sister, but that got canceled and so Y/n decided to drop by and see Tommy. When she realized he wasn’t there, she took a seat at the kitchen table, deciding to wait for his return.

That was a mistake.

One of the Lees, grabbed her after she’d jumped from the table in shock. Pulling her hair, he thought he could get his way with her, but her father didn’t raise no damsel in distress. Y/n was a fighter, coming from a family of boxers, she knew how to through a punch. More than that, adrenaline was pumping like a freight train through her bloodstream, screaming at her to fight.

With her attacker’s arms wrapped around her waist, she reached for a pot on the stove, her fingers grazing over it enough to bring it closer. Fingers wrapped around the handled, she swung at her attacker, hitting him in the head. He toppled to the ground, but he was quickly replaced with another. And when she thought she had the situation under control, another one appeared behind the new one, more behind that one. The Lees clearly had a problem with a woman standing over a man, victorious. And so, she did her best to fight them off, leaving the kitchen a mess.

When they left, Y/n was surrounded by broken glass, bloodied pots, and toppled furniture. Her head was throbbing from where it had been forced into the table by one of the men and all she wanted to do was fall into her mother’s soft arms. She should have stayed to help clean up the mess, but that was all too much for her to process. So, grabbing her hat and coat, Y/n exited the same way she had entered, pretending as if nothing had happened.

Now, nearly home, she believed she’d made the right decision. Tommy would have been furious if he’d found her covered in blood. He kicked himself for letting it happen, but she knew, he would also be angry that she didn’t go home when she couldn’t find him. And then, when he had calmed down a little, she knew he would want nothing but blood from those who thought they could destroy him. Y/n didn’t want that. There had been enough bloodshed, there needed to be peace. But that wouldn’t happen if she’ stuck around.

Thomas Shelby would burn down the world for her.

It was no secret how he felt for her. The burning love that coated everything he touched. There wasn’t a second he wasn’t thinking of her and a moment he wouldn’t do anything for her. It was dangerous, how much he loved her. Y/n wasn’t willing to let that destroy him, not when it could be prevented.

“What happened?” her father’s words were rushed, lifting her chin to get a better look at her face. “Don’t tell me Thomas did this. I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘im!”

Y/n shook her head, wincing when a damp washcloth was pressed onto a cut on her arm. “No, dad. Tommy didn’t do this,” she muttered, taking the cloth from her mother. Trained in nursing, her mother was nurturing and gentle when it came to patching up anyone but her children. Her touches were rough like sandpaper, likely because her kids always tried to worm away from her. “Mum, stop.”

He swore under his breath and went over to the cabinet that held the family’s liquor collected. A large bottle of bourbon was placed on the table, next to his daughter, along with a couple of glass. “If it wasn’t him then who was it?” He questioned while filling the glasses.

“The Lees.”

“Fucking gypsies,” he spat as he shoved a glass of bourbon in Y/n’s hand. “Drink this.”

“Jack!” Her mother scolded him. “We are no better them. Don’t you dare go using their heritage against them.”

Jack grumbled, deciding to take a drink from the glass in front of him than answer. She wasn’t wrong, though. Y/n’s family were considered to be French gypsies with how they lived when they were in their homeland. Both sides born and raised in France, the French people didn’t care, those in the cities, that is. They saw them as dirt and nothing more. People like her family, though the backbone of the country, weren’t wanted where there was work, and many families were forced to move. That’s how her family had ended up in Birmingham.

Finishing off her glass, Y/n placed in front of her just as her mother pulled out a needle and thread. She grabbed the neck of the liquor bottle, pouring the liquid in her glass until the amber liquid spilled over the rim. “Doesn’t matter who did what. I’m not dead, there’s no need for much fuss.”

A few days had passed, but Y/n didn’t feel much better. Body sore and mind cloudy, her mother gave her two options, stay home with her or go with her father while he trained boxers. She chose the latter as it would be more entertaining. If she’d stayed home, she was sure her place would be in the kitchen, mixing a bowl of cake mix. As much as she wanted to enjoy the sweets her mother baked, she didn’t want to help make them.

Y/n leaned back in her chair, holding a newspaper out in front of her, trying to drown out the noise of two men lunging at each other. As entertaining as boxing was, she’d grown up watching it and could think of a hundred other sports that captured her interest more than that.

“Nobody’s seen you in days.”

He found her. She decided not to give him much of a reaction. All she wanted was for him to leave, never seeing her face. Y/n wasn’t sure if she would be able to stand the look on his face when he found out what he caused. “Perhaps people should think of visiting me more, instead of it being the other way around.”

The sound of foot stops hit her ears as he approached her. Against her better judgment, her eyes flickered up, meeting his. Are you hurt?” Voice full of an odd combination of anger and love.

“No.” Y/n glanced back down at her paper.

“Then why are there bruises all over your face?” he questioned sternly, removing the paper from her hands. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing, Tommy. Don’t worry about it.” She stood from her seat, moving past him to go stand next to her father. Tommy was too smart, she knew, to start something in her father’s presence. But she didn’t get the chance to get far when a hand caught her wrist and pulled her against his chest. “Hey!”

“Would you tell me what happened?”

A huff escaped her, giving in once she saw the concern in his eyes. “I was at the betting shop the other day-”

“When the Lees attacked,” he finished his sentence, running a hand down his face. That was the last thing he wanted to happen. “Those fucking bastards! You should have told me!” Y/n rolled her eyes, something the man caught. “What was that for?”

“This is why I didn’t tell you to begin with.”

Tommy was a loss of words once he heard that. He thought that she hadn’t told him because she didn’t trust him or because it was his fault that she was stuck in the middle of all this. But no, it was his anger. Letting out a breath, he did his best to calm down. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. “Should’ve taken you with me.”

“Why didn’t you?” Her voice was muffled by his overcoat.

He laughed. “John called a fucking family meeting about marrying a whore.”

“Oh.” The Shelby family meetings were sacred things. Y/n had never been permitted at one but if they were all over matters as such, she doubted she ever wanted to attend.

“You’ll be at the next one.”

Y/n pulled away enough to see his face. “Why’s that, Mr. Shelby?”

Tommy leaned down to capture her lips with his. “Because you’ll be Mrs. Shelby by the next meeting.”

There was silence as her cheeks turned red. The couple had talked about marriage a handful of times, but they had both decided it wasn’t the right time. Tommy wanted to get the family business in order and his demons under control. Y/n had to figure out how to keep her family from killing each other as each of her brother’s had different ideas about what to do with the family’s boxing ring. But those… the could figure them out together.

“Are you… blushing?” Tommy gave her a cheeky grin.

“Oh, stop it.” She hit him playfully before giving him a quick kiss. “You know, you’ll probably have to get in the ring-” She tilted her head over to the ring behind him. “-to win my hand.”

He smiled. “I would do anything to be able to marry you.”

*~~*~~*~~*

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Note

Dark!bucky not letting you cum for a week??? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

ohhhh lord... how did this go from headcanons to an entire ficlet????? oops

you’ve gotta fuck up BAD to earn this one

this is the sort of thing that requires more than one insurrection in a row, like making him jealous and then coming without permission

say you’re talking to sam one day and he makes you laugh and bucky is just watching you two talk.

you throw your head back with another overdramatic laugh at one of his stupid jokes and you put your hand on his arm for a second like you’re trying to feel his bicep.

if looks could kill you’d both be dead by bucky’s glare omllll he is pissed.

i think you need to remember who you belong to he growls at you as he pulls you back into his room and slams the door

you’re adamant that it was just a friendly conversation but he shuts you up by shoving his cock in your mouth.

if you want me to fuck you you’re gonna have to earn it. if he’s just a friend then show me. suck my cock like you understand that you’re mine.

you really do give him your best, twisting your spit-slick hand as you jerk off the parts of him you can’t reach with your mouth, doing nothing to suppress the gurgling noises of your throat.

you talk like an innocent little angel, but you suck cock like a whore. which is it?

you don’t get a chance to answer because he pulls you up by your hair and tosses you onto the bed, pushing your dress up and slapping your ass

bite down on the pillow, baby. if somebody out there hears you i swear i’ll blow a gasket. only i get to hear you like this.

you nod and obey, and it proves important because he enters you with such brutal force that you nearly scream into the down as he takes you.

you wishin’ it was sam instead of me? think he would treat you better?

you shake your head but he just spanks you again.

you’re clenching around me, sweetheart. do you like when i get angry, is that it?

you’re just trying to apologize between whimpers and sobs and he isn’t having any of it

stop fucking whining and take my cock. don’t act like i’m so awful, I know you can take it.

it hurts but he’s right, you’ve endured worse. the frustrating thing is that he knows exactly how much pleasure to mix with the pain to make you unable to stop yourself from barreling towards an orgasm.

you wanna come? you better earn it. you’re not gonna come until i’m convinced that you know your place

you’re babbling about how you belong to him and how you’d never even think about anybody else but he has this way of getting inside your head whenever he’s inside you-- makes sense, really, but it’s spooky sometimes.

i dont believe you baby, you’re going to have to be more convincing

you’re halfway into another string of incoherent begs when he realizes you’re about to come and suddenly pulls out, leaving you with no stimulation and clenching around nothing.

not yet, he hisses, smacking you on the ass. not until im ready. not until i tell you to.

and you really really try but you’ve never been good at holding yourself back, so when he fucks you again and his cock is pressing so perfectly against your g-spot and you can hear his sexy grunts and moans you start to lose it

you try to warn him but you’re so lost in it that it just comes out as nonsense

he pulls out to keep you from coming but it’s too late, you’re coming on nothing, your walls are flexing, a gush of wetness is leaking out of you and you’re just laying there on the bed coming without him.

did you just fuckin’ come? he growls and you’re done for.

you get the spanking of a lifetime, all while he scolds you

you are such a goddamn slut for my cock, you need it so bad you come even after i’ve pulled out. and now you’re getting wet from your punishment. what am i going to do with you?

you assume it’s rhetorical but he pinches the raw skin where he’d just hit you and you realize he wants an answer

you’re going to give me whatever i deserve you tell him. he smiles.

looks like you’re learning, slowly but surely.

he decides that since you clearly need to learn some restraint when it comes to both other men and your orgasms, he thinks that a week without coming is the perfect punishment.

but as we know, you come so easily when he fucks you, being the filthy slut you are.

and it’s not fair to bucky that he should be punished too, not being able to fuck you just because you can’t keep it together

so he finds a few compromises

at first he just has you suck him off but he loves coming inside you too much to just come on your face or down your throat all week

plus, he thinks you like giving the blowjobs a little too much

so instead he jerks himself off, making you watch and loving how jealous you look that you can’t get your hands on him, and then just a few strokes before he’s gonna come, he sticks it in and pumps a few times before coating your walls

he makes you beg for it too, even though you both know you aren’t getting much out of it, only being able to feel him for a few seconds and then just being left there horny beyond all reason and full of come

he ends up fucking you, if you could really call it that, way more often than normal since it’s so brief and not very tiring for him

six, seven times a day he’s giving you his come and nothing else, and making you thank him for it every time

and you’re so goddamn horny that you can barely function. you’re so sensitive that the slightest touch gets you riled up, and you’re so delirious that you can’t stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together or taking a little extra time when you wash yourself in the shower.

the result is that you end up edging yourself a hundred times a day and it just makes it so much worse

but no amount of crying or begging can convince him to end your punishment early. in fact, when you try to appeal to his appetite and remind him how good it feels for him when you come while he’s inside you, you get another spanking and a night in a chastity belt since he no longer trusts you to stay good when you’re alone.

on the last day of the week, sam tries to talk to you again and you dash away so fast you could’ve left a cloud of smoke in your shape like a cartoon because you’re not about to throw this whole week away and start over just for a few stupid jokes

once you’ve survived your punishment and begged relentlessly to be allowed to come, bucky finally keeps his promise and lets you come every way he can. fingers, mouth, cock, vibrators... he seems determined to make up for lost time and then some

you come so many times you lose all sense of time and space and he has to carry you to bed and let you sleep for a good 12 hours

you wake up the next morning to find a note from bucky saying he’s gone to lunch but you did so well and he’s so proud of you. he promises to buy you something nice, and that you can wear it and remember how strong you are. but you get the feeling he wants the gift to remind you of what he can do to you if you piss him off again

you’re excited when he gets back but then you realize he was at lunch with sam. and both of them have this look in their eyes as you ask them how it was.

oh shit. he’s up to something, isn’t he?

#dark!bucky #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes headcanons #bucky barnes smut #headcanons #Anonymous #dark!sebastian stan #dark!sebastian stan x reader

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angloie · 3 years ago

Text

Charms.

(1/?)

> Percy likes to deceive. Lie, manipulate, more lies; it was a part of his job, after all. Annabeth has been deceived. Lied to. Manipulated. She's an woman of many secrets- secrets she'd rather not let anyone know.

> Assassin! Percy x CEO! Annabeth.

> Warnings: Mostly angst + fluff, character death and some violence. Nothing too explicit. Mentions of blood/mild injuries as well as alcohol. (characters are aged up!)

pt. 2 || pt. 3 || pt. 4 || pt. 5

Percy's thumb rule was never do anything he didn't want.

To live a happy and healthy life, that was completely normal; especially for such a laid back guy like him.

Choosing this... rather wild career was something he wanted to do, willingly. Life was short, so why not make the most of it? It was getting awfully bleak with the normal civilian life. After all, no one would believe the nice young man who helped the old man carry the groceries to his car would be someone who killed for a living. A smile so bright that it could give the sun a run for its money and warm sea green eyes could hide so much more than just innocence.

The ceiling to floor windows of his penthouse showed a breathtaking view of the New York skyline, sun moving behind the tall buildings and moon replacing the orange hue. Being an assassin had its perks- despite endangering his life on multiple occasions. The pay was just out of this world. All that cash just to kill off some sleazy politician, or that one corrupt buisness man? Sign him up. Zero hesitation.

Percy frowned at the dried blood on his once pure white gloves. He was quick to peel them off. He shuddered at the unsightly view of a small stain of blood on his onyx-colored suit.

He would just buy a new one later. Small things like that didn't matter. Sure, that might've been a gift from one of his clients, but it wasn't anything he couldn't replace.

Hanging his coat on the rack beside the wide entrance, he sighed with clear tiredness. One night of forced politeness and smiles took a toll on him- Also due to the fact that he had just done his job as an assassin. It wasn't what you could call easy.

His muscles were aching and sore in all the worst places, every move throbbing with full pain. The shallow slash on his lower abdomen had soaked his shirt in a dark crimson red, most likely going to leave a bad stain. He would have to clean that later.

The penthouse was big and rather spacious. White Walls and abstract paintings lined them, reflecting off the almost pristine marble floors. It took a while for Percy to get settled in, it being a huge place and all that. But he soon made it feel like home with the help of old picture frames that held memories and the Nemo stuffed animals resting on the leather couch.

“WOOF!”

And Mrs. O'leary.

Mrs.O’leary- a huge, slobbering dog with thick black fur- bounded towards him in a frenzied greeting. She hopped up on her hind legs to lick his face, tail wagging at a unmatched speed. She barked again, this time more quieter.

“Yeah, yeah. It's nice to see you too.” Percy laughed as he tried to pull away. Once he went to the kitchen to grab a bone-shaped treat. “Who’s a good girl?” He cooed, tossing the snack in the air. Mrs.O’leary jumped up to snatch it before barking and padding away. Her tail still wagged with elation.

When Percy first moved here, it was quite nerve-racking. He'd heard that this place was an especially good spot for people like him- meaning people who did some illegal activity. Well, that was what he assumed. Percy was 99% sure that his neighbor just in the penthouse below him, (Leo was it?) had to be involved in some sketchy stuff. That creepy smile of his with a mysterious staining his shirt never meant any good. Or maybe when his other neighbor, had a odd looking duffel bag slung across his shoulder. Oddly human shaped, maybe. With a horrible smell of something rotting. Percy recalled introducing himself a Nico DiAngelo. A pretty reserved and quiet guy, usually having a frown of his face. Well, other than that time when he had his boyfriend over, a sunshiney guy with sun-kissed hair. He never got the chance to catch his name.

Wrapping a white cloth around his wound, Percy's met with a sense of familiarity. Fixing his own injuries by himself. It would bee nice to have some help once in a while, but that would mean exposing him. He's definitely not ready to risk that.

Other than his boss and a couple of really close friends, no one knows about this. Percy nearly slipped up once- when a old companion from high school came over to visit, and his small arsenal of weapons were revealed. The little compartment hidden behind a painting. Not another word wasmsaid about it. Percy made up some half-assed excuse about auditioning for a movie so they were fakes.

It didn't take much of a expert, but the were far from fakes.

His phone rang from beside Percy, making him jolt in surprise. The contact name made him smile just the tiniest bit.

"Hey, mom," Percy began. "Why'd you call?"

"Can't your mom check up on you once in a while? How are you?" Sally beamed, cheerful voice on speaker mode.

He walked over to the bathroom where he stood in the full length mirror. A hint of blood seeped through the white bandage; now full wrapped. "Good. How's Paul and Estelle doing?" He asked.

"They're doing great! Me and your step dad went out with Estelle yesterday to see the movies." Sally smiled. "Estelle is growing into such a energetic ball of energy." She joked. "Just like you."

"Is that so?" Percy laughed, splashing his face with water. It felt cool on his skin, causing tiny pricks of coldness to pop up all over.

For a while, him and Sally conversed. She told him about her day (mostly gushing about Paul and Estelle) while Percy smiled and listened. He did his best to hide the fact that he'd been fixing up his wounds in silence. He cursed silently in pain when he touched an sensitive spot on the slash.

"Percy? Are you alright?" Sally asked in concern.

"Yeah! I just... hit my elbow. Its nothing. " He hastily replied.

"Okay," Sally exclaimed in relief. "By the way, when are you going to visit your old woman? Estelle misses you, you know."

"Yeah, well tell her I miss her too." A sense of gloom over took the conversation. "Look, I'm busy now but..." Percy looked over to the mirror again. "I'll call you later. Maybe I can visit you guys over there soon." He exhaled.

"We're looking forward to it! Isn't that right, Estelle?" Sally gave the phone to the little girl who was jumping with excitement.

"Come over soon Perce!" She garbled. It sounded like she was eating something halfway.

"I will. Talk to you later, 'Kay?"

"'Kay!"

A wave of guilt overwashed Percy as soon as he ended the call. It was killing him inside, to not be honest with them about his real job. They just thought he was a simple marine biologist who got one hell of a promotion. Yeah, he wished. That seemed easier than killing for a living. He was going to tell them sooner or later. He just had to. Not today- not anytime soon, that is.

Jolting himself out of his thoughts, Percy's phone rang. He was quick to answer it. Was it Sally calling again? Percy put down the metal spoon he was holding, letting it rest in the pot of soup bubbling on the flat stove.

“Hey, Percy!” The horribly familiar voice rang from the other side of the line. Percy grimaced.

“What is it?” He groaned.

“Is that any way to talk to your boss?” He tsked. “But I have news for you!”

“Do tell,” Percy muttered and went back to his soup.

“I have a mission.” Apollo grinned widely. “You up for it?”

“Again? Didn't I just do one yesterday?” Percy rolled his eyes. He was tired; completely tired. Usually the missions weren't this close together- sometimes they could be even months apart.

“Yeah, but this one won't happen for a week or so. And it ain't just the typical mission.”

“Yeah? And what's that?”

“Its a info operation. Meaning-”

“I know what that means!” Percy interjected. “Just tell me the details already. I’m hungry.”

“Jeez, okay mr. grump. Annabeth Chase. You know her?” Apollo said, scoffing at Percy's tone.

“You mean the owner of that one architecture company? What about her?” He asked.

“She’s connected with Thalia Grace and Luke Castellan.” Appolo explained. “Apparently people have been talking about their new heist that they're planning. By what I've heard, it's going to be huge.”

Those three names- Thalia Grace, Luke Castellan, Annabeth Chase. Annabeth especially, was the most well known in the regular world. Her being the stoic founder of Athchase as well as being a crazy rich and famous person, that's a no brainer. Luke and Thalia, on the other hand, their heists were well known anywhere. Annabeth didn't have a criminal record of any sorts. That's a big reason she can keep up her reputation. It's not like the woman did anything wrong, its just that... the fact that she is connected with the two is enough to ensure suspicion. Growing rumors of her planning some of their crimes were spreading fast. Percy's heard of things like that, her being the mastermind of killing and stealing.

“Alright," He nodded. "Im interested. Go on."

“New York. That's where the three plan to meet up. Get information, maybe use your charms into getting her to trust you."

"N-new york..!?" Percy was left shocked at that.

"I've booked a flight there. 5 in the morning sharp tomorrow. I reccomend you arrive on time." Apollo chuckled.

"Yeah, whatever."

"And Percy?" He called out.

"Hm?"

"You have my full permission to kill Annabeth when you're done." Apollo darkly said, hanging up without another word. Percy rolled his eyes for the tenth time on the call.

Well, all right.

Next destination: New York.

"So, New York, huh." Annabeth swirled some of her cocktail in the glass, circling her wrist in a rotation. The blue liquid swirled together in a repetitive motion. Sapphire Martini tasted rather bitter on her tounge, but decent nonetheless. She enjoyed the slight orange twist.

"Why here of all places?" She asked.

"Its a golden opportunity, dear Annie. The Olympians only gather once in a blue moon, so we're going to make the most out of this!" Thalia sipped from her own glass, some regular red wine. She'd never had such a taste for 'Those fancy rich drinks'. Whatever that meant.

The Olympians, as Thalia said before, were a group of 12 of some of the wealthiest and prestigious people from across the world. Only a few select people could be a part- it was exclusive as to anybody who was just normal as a couple million rich. New York would be holding a auction quite soon on a famous opera house; and surprise, they would be there.

"Don't call me that." Annabeth winced at the name. "And who exactly is we?"

"Don't go all acting like you didn't agree, alright? Plus, you can gain a thing or two from all this." She grinned.

"I have a company to run, Thals, You know very well that I dropped that type of business years ago." Annabeth shook her head. "This is seriously risky."

"But you love that. Don't you?" Thalia pressed, standing up.

She truly did. The thrill, the rush of energy you couldn't get anywhere else. Thats what had driven her to join Thalia and Luke in the first place. That feeling alone made her eyes sparkle with desire.

"Yeah." Annabeth places her drinkdown back on the glass table. "I do."

Okay I'm back with some more hot garbage!!! here's my latest thing-- a assassin au. I need to do a ship other than percabeth tho 😔😔

#percabeth fanfic #percabeth oneshot #percy x annabeth #percabeth #percy jackson #percy and annabeth #pjo oneshot #annabeth pjo #pjo fluff #percabeth angst #percabeth fluff #annabeth chase #pjo thalia #thalia grace #jason grace #grover underwood #percy and grover

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barnesandrogersfanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Saving Grace - Part 16

A/N- FINALLY an update!! 🙈

Please like/share/comment etc 💕

I was woken up the next morning with Bucky kisses! The best way to wake up!

"Doll" i heard him mumble before pressing a kiss to my bare shoulder, then i felt him kissing my neck.

"Mmmm Buck...."

"Wake up pretty girl...."

"Nooooo" i moaned but started to giggle when his hands started tickling my sides "thats cheating..... stop!"

"Are you awake?" He laughed.

"Not by choice but yes, im awake"

"Im sorry but its important"

"Whats wrong?"

"Nothings wrong but i think i found us the perfect house! I called to ask about a viewing and they said its a popular lot and its gonna be snapped up quick..... butttt i managed to get us in to see it.... well Pepper pulled some strings....."

"What? Slow down Buck...." i chuckled trying to take it all in.

"Sorry I'm just so excited for you to see it! its perfect for us and the kids...."

"Okay baby, what time do we have to be there?" I smiled, i loved seeing how happy and excited he looked and id do anything and everything in my power to keep that look on his face.

"We have an hour"

"Okay I'm up" i nodded as i got up from the bed, Bucky grabbed me for a kiss before i could go far.

"I really think you're gonna love this place!"

The house Bucky took me to looked huge as we drove up to it, a solitary, two story house with a wrap around porch surrounded by woodland. I smiled instantly, it was exactly what we had been looking for.

After walking around the property with Bucky i found myself looking out of the huge floor to ceiling windows at the back end of the house that over looked the prettiest meadow.... this place really was perfect.

"What do you think?" Bucky asked wrapping his arms around me from behind.

"I love it Buck" i smiled up at him "i can see us living here"

"Me too, I'm so glad you like it.... I've kinda fallen in love with the place"

"We can't afford this though....." i said sadly.

"Yes we can, all you have to do is say yes and its ours"

"Are you being serious right now??" I turned in his arms to face him, my eyes wide.... he had to be joking!

"Deadly. We'd have to sign for it now to secure it though. So are you 100% sure that this is the house for us?"

I nodded quickly with a huge smile "100%! But how? Buck this place...."

"Is ours. I knew it from the second i saw it. I have money and Pepper put in a good word for us....welcome home" he beamed before pressing a kiss to my lips.

When we got back to the tower i sat down with Wanda gushing about how beautiful the new house was. Telling her about the meadows and woodland that surrounded the property.

"I mean its like something out of a movie! Its perfect.... its like my dream home"

"Oh my.... Y/N this place is stunning.... can i move in with you?" Wanda laughed.

"You're more than welcome to come stay whenever you want theres plenty of room"

"I'll be sad to see you guys leave again but I'm so happy for you and Bucky. This is a big step for you guys"

"We'll still stop by all the time it'll be like we never left"

"You better!"

"Of course we will. I still can't believe we have a house! I was not expecting this when i woke up this morning. I didn't even know Bucky was house hunting in his own time, we always done that together"

"Im not surprised, Barnes is sneaky!" Wanda laughed.

"It was so lovely seeing how happy he looked while we were at the house Wand's. Gotta say i was not expecting to wake up and go buy a house this morning! I actually thought Bucky was a little mad at me...."

"Why would he be mad at you?"

"because he found me training with Steve yesterday" i shrugged "he's worried he's gonna loose me and the kids"

"Well thats just crazy.... you'd never leave him"

"I know that but its obviously a problem with Bucky. He feels threatened because of the kids...."

"I get where he's coming from i guess"

"I do too but he's wrong. Id never go back to Steve, for so many reasons but i have to have some kind of civil relationship with him, he's the father of my kids at the end of the day and he's gonna be in our life" i shrugged "I don't wanna spend the rest of my life fighting with Steve".

"Do you think.... never mind" Wanda shook her head deciding against saying whatever she was going to say.

"What was you gonna say Wands?"

"Its just, do you think Bucky found that house as quick as he did to get you away from Steve? maybe he feels threatened having you under the same roof...."

"No.... we were already looking"

Was Wanda right?? Did he find the house so suddenly because he felt threatened... jealous even?

I spent the rest of the day constantly thinking about what Wanda had said and it was driving me mad!

Once the kids were down for the night Bucky and i decided to watch a movie before bed. It was about halfway through when I finally had to ask Bucky about the house.

"Hey Buck?" I looked up at him, my head was currently in his lap as his fingers ran through my hair.

"Yeah doll?"

"I need to ask you something....."

"Sure, what is it?"

"its just Wanda said something earlier and now thats all i can think about......"

"What did she say?"

"She just asked if us finding a house so quickly was because maybe you wanted me away from Steve?"

"No....of course not. I'll admit i was a little pissed after seeing the two of you yesterday in the gym.... i couldn't sleep, so i sat up looking at houses" he said looking unsure if he should be admitting how much he it got to him yesterday.

"I'm not gonna lie and say im not glad we'll be away from him though" he smiled "he's getting too comfortable around you and i dont like it".

"Bucky Barnes are you jealous??"

"No......" he blushed

"You have nothing to be jealous of babe i promise. You're the only man for me"

"What if im not enough....." he asked sadly avoiding eye contact. I sat up suddenly taking his face in my hands to make him look at me.

"You are more than enough and i love you so much".

"I love you more"

"Thats an argument you'll never win" i shrugged giving him a smile before leaning in to kiss him "how about you take me to bed Barnes and i'll prove it".

"I can never say no to you doll" he grinned before literally tossing me over his shoulder and running towards the bedroom.

Everything taglist: @jesseswartzwelder @dumblani @barnesandrogersworld @patzammit @rynabarnesrogers-reading @rainbowkisses31 @rororo06 @supernaturalwintersoldier @hiddelstannerbarnes @bellamy-barnes @buchanansebba @rosalynshields @turtoix @dottirose

Saving grace tags @jennmurawski13 @kenzieam

@captainchrisstan @ms-betsy-fangirl

@damnaged-princess @farfromtommy @lbuck121 @billweasleey @heathens-takeitsl0w

@lacontroller1991 @supervengerslock

@mariswritingforfun @thummbelina @broco8 @ineffableg-irl @writeroutoftime @ek823 @cap-just-said-language @xxloki81xx @death-unbecomes-you @bellemile @buckyandsebastian @afuckingshituniverse @i-ran-out-of-fanfics

#reader insert #chris evans x reader #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #chris evans #steve rogers #captain america #sebastian stan #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #saving grace

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tobi-momo · 4 years ago

Text

Contradicting Colors

Pairing: Model!Kirishima x Photographer!Reader

Genre: Romance, Fluff, a lil pining

Word Count: 3.1k (sry not sry :p)

Synopsis: When given a new project due within a week from your boss, frustration is all you can see before a certain someone becomes your inspiration.

Warnings: alcohol consumption (barely anything), cursing

a/n: omg its finally here!! valentines day!! im so excited to be a part of Project Runway, featuring many other amazing writers! pls pls pls enjoy this i had so much fun writing it and even though i changed the plot halfway through i made it work- kind of. this is only proofread once, so if you see any mistakes i am so sorry kaskjdsf- happy valentine's day everyone and i hope you guys have an amazing day with your friends/ loved ones <3333

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“Yes. Yes, sir. I understand.” The volume of your voice graduating slowly as you move to balance your phone between your shoulder and your cheek, your hands moving to grab your camera, the strap in the way of you comfortably holding your phone. “Next week? How many?” You hold in a sigh as you furrow your eyebrows in frustration, not wanting your irritated expression to show through the phone. “Yes, I can do that. Thank you. Bye.” Ending the call with a low beep, you whine in frustration while you turn around, taking in your surroundings.

What were you gonna do? You had a week to send your boss a couple hundred pictures of bright, unique pictures. In the middle of winter he decides to assign you this project. ‘To show off the start of spring!’ he says. You loved your job, but couldn’t you at least have an easier task in the winter than this?

Maybe you could find inspiration somewhere in the park. Something bright and unique, huh? Shouldn’t be too hard. The fog wasn’t really helping though, masking the natural essence of the park, although you could still see happy couples walking around, hand in hand while they talk about God knows what. Young women walking their little dogs down the walkway, while others are out for their morning run. This wasn’t helping. Central Park would be an amazing place to find inspiration, you thought. No. It wasn’t. Especially with the dreary weather, you weren’t hopeful.

Boring. That’s what this was. Boring. The boring weather, the boring mood, the boring assignment, the boring-

Bright red, spiky hair pops into your vision, sticking out like a sore thumb in this weather. What is that?

The red head turns towards you, although facing his phone, scrolling through whatever occupied his screen. He didn’t seem to notice you staring at him in awe, or the fact that he just became your new inspiration. His bright scarlet hair contradicting the slow, sad, tired weather, brightening the whole scene. He looks like he would have a beautiful smile, and his build looks like he would give the best hugs.

You are thinking way too hard about this. But… you do need some pictures for inspiration, so why not ask him? He radiates sunshine through the fog, even if he was doing something so mundane as looking on his phone. Just ask him, that’s it. Just. Ask him.

Taking a step forward, you grab the strap of your camera, sliding your phone in your jacket pocket before taking the last sip of your coffee, throwing it in the metal trash bin a few feet away from you.

“Um, sir?” You ask politely, your hand raised in a half wave, hoping he understands that you are the one calling him. “Hi, I’m Y/n L/n, and I was wondering if you’d let me take your picture for an article i’m doing,” you continue, trying your best to sweet talk and not lose him. He smiles politely, but it doesn’t look genuine. It looks like he’s done this before, many times, now that you think about it.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, bringing his hand to the back of his neck, awkwardly scratching. Shit. You lost him. “Although I’m glad you guys asked for permission this time I don’t want anymore pictures taken.”

Huh? What the hell was he talking about?

“What?” You question, utterly confused. His head reaches out around you, looking around in the bushes, round the trees, though his vision murky from the fog.

“Sorry, but you guys have been following me everywhere. I’m just on my way to work, you guys don’t need a picture of me everywhere I go.”

Who was following him? What the hell is he talking about?

“Who’s following you?” You turn your head around you, trying to find the imaginary people around you two. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“No need to act all clueless, I found out you were paparazzi, so just go home,” he says with an attitude that irks you.

Now you were mad. Obviously being patient with him wasn’t working.

“Sir, I don’t know who you are, or why the paparazzi is following you, but I am not one of them.” His eyes widen in shock, looking between yours to see a fault, not succeeding. “Do you talk to every stranger like you’re some celebrity that can’t be bothered?” His head jolts back, as if he was offended. “If this is the way you act, honestly I’m surprised anyone likes you, let alone the paparazzi.” His mouth opens in protest, words failing to find their way out as you continue to spit words at him in anger.

Something catches his attention, causing his head to snap up, his eyes squinting to try and see through the fog. He hears a couple clicks, then sighs, looking back at you.

“This project is due in a week and y-”

“Okay, I’m sorry, just, could you be quiet for a sec?”

“Quiet? With all due respect you can’t tell me wha-”

~Click, click, click~

His hands slam on your shoulder moving you forward and rotating your body; your back faced the walkway, you trying to turn your head from the giant tree in front of you. “He- hey! What are you doing?”

A bright flash blinds your vision, your arms immediately come to guard your face, your knees bending as if to try and duck from the light.

“What the hell?”

He gives you a sympathetic look, then grabs your arm, dragging you away from the lights. Or, he was attempting to.

“I told you, the paparazzi likes to follow me everywhere.” His rushed pace speeding up while he drags you with him, your hands flailing around, trying to find a grip.

“Hey, let me go!” You shout, his head shaking before leaving the park, tugging you in an alley before stopping, his hands still firmly gripping your arms, keeping you in place. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Stop talking for one second!” He interrupts you, his expression seeming a little...pissed. “I told you, the paparazzi is following me around, what don’t you get?”

“Why?” His face turns into a sort of confusion, like he expected you to know who he is.

“Wh- i’m,” he exhales sharply, frustrated. His eyes drill into yours, again scanning to try and see how you’re not understanding. Were you really this dense? “I’m Kirishima Eijiro!”

“Who?” He backs up, his head tilting to the side. Huh. You really didn’t know. That’s the first. Seriously.

Sighing, he lets out a little chuckle. You couldn’t help but giggle a little back at the situation, the whole ordeal not making you as mad anymore. A few snickers turning into having to clutch your stomach in hopes that it doesn’t cramp from you wheezing too hard. You could see Kirishima leaning on the wall to try and not collapse on the cement. Was it a sort of rush? Was it the complete obliviousness? Hell if you know, but God, did it feel good.

You understood why he dismissed you, and why he said the things he did, knowing that the paparazzi came anyways just making you feel even more stupid for not catching on quicker. His smile definitely is breathtaking, but you still needed to find out if he gives the best hugs. Maybe one day, but not while you guys are struggling to stand up.

“I’m guessing running away to an empty alley wasn’t exactly ideal for taking pictures, huh?” He pokes, calming himself down, a lot more comfortable with the atmosphere.

“Yeah, you’re right, but i’ll just find some more inspiration later,” you respond, remembering his refusal.

“Oh, I mean, you could, or I could always help you after some coffee?” He proposes, like it was a risk.

“Coffee, huh? Well, I already filled myself up on that today, but thank you,” you turn him down politely, “but maybe tomorrow? Would that be alright?”

He smiles, a soft, sweet smile that will definitely not leave your head for the next few days, nodding while standing straight up with his feet fully planted on the pavement. A cute, innocent blush creeps upon his face, his expression making you not want to leave. But alas, you were on your way to work.

“Um, I should- I should go, I can’t be late, but I’m sure that I’ll be able to find you somewhere, being the Kirishima Eijiro,” you tease. He understands, and doesn’t want to keep you waiting, so he watches you leave, his eyes trailing along your legs as you turn the corner, disappearing from his view.

Wow. You were mesmerizing. Why is it now he’s just experiencing something like that? He loved it and hated it at the same time. But now he has to deal with the publicity of what just happened. Shit. He needed to get that covered up. Before he could even dial his publicist, a notification pops up on his screen:

“Y/N L/N has followed you”

A smile of relief and a sort of excitement crawls on his face as he taps on your account, scrolling through the pictures that you’ve taken with your camera. He didn’t think you were that good but, damn, was he wrong. You were good with your colors; he liked that. Maybe him being your model could be better than he thought.

~.~.~.~

“Kirishima, no, you can’t just- don’t move!”

“What, I’m just making it better!”

“You mean you’re making it worse!” You laugh, turning your camera and pressing the shutter button as Kirishima jokes and teases, messing around like an absolute child. Which you can’t help but adore. The past few days you guys had spent together was absolute heaven, almost like you never had any problems. The stressful assignment now turned into a fun project as you two walk around the city, talking about yourselves, getting to know each other before parting to see each other on a new dawn. Him being your model was perfect, although knowing he didn’t have much time until his shows, you tried to pry yourself into his schedule. He didn’t mind it either.

“Okay, okay, what abooouutt, this!” He exclaims as he holds his arms up, flexing his muscles with a cheery grin decorating his face.

“Mm, absolutely beautiful. You look so manly,” you joke sarcastically.

“That’s good! That’s what I’m goin’ for,” he replies. You giggle at his statement, not understanding why everything he says is funny, and why you laugh every time.

“Annndddd, last one!” You shout before the shutter clicks and the light flashes at Kirishima, who is unbelievably keeping his pose perfectly. “Okay, I think these are enough for now. Thank you again, Kirishima, I would completely lose hope if you didn’t offer.”

“Hey, It’s no problem, plus, technically you asked me first- I didn’t offer.”

“I guess you’re right, but still.”

“Right, right. I get it. But this is fun so I’d rather be doing nothing else.” Oh, how you loved those words. You wanted to hear them more often. You just wanted to hear his voice more.

“Well that’s good. I-” you interrupt yourself before grabbing your phone from your vibrating phone from your pocket, a text from your boss telling you to come in late. “Oh, I guess I gotta go,” you both frown, “but I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Wait! I uh, I wanted to ask you something.” You stop before him, his eyes suddenly not wanting to find yours. “I have a plus one to my shows, if you want to come,” his eyes widen and he quickly back pedals his words, “you don’t have to! I was just curious!”

“Sure!” You beam, absolutely delighted with the thought of going to one of his shows. You’ve seen his pictures. He was incredibly good at what he does, and you wanted to see all the seriousness of it up front.

“Really?” He hesitates, as if he didn’t hear you correctly the first time.

“Of course! I’d love to! I shouldn’t take pictures though, should I? Maybe a video? I’ve seen videos of people but I don’t think-”

“Yeah, you can take pictures, as many as you want. Plus, being at my show would help with your boss, right?”

“Mhm!”

“Great! Then it’s a date!”

His face immediately freezes, the blood disappearing from his face then suddenly reappearing like a firework, turning his face a heated red that only made you blush further.

A- a date?

“Uh, yeah,” you try to play it off, trying not to explode with seven different emotions at once, “it’s a date,” you emphasize the word ‘date’, it getting caught in your mouth and hard to come out once you grasp what you’re saying. Man, you two looked like middle schoolers.

~.~.~.~

Arriving at his show, you did not expect this many people. Well, you expected it, but didn’t want it to be true. It was like you were being trampled on trying to get into your seat. The paparazzi wouldn’t stop bombarding you and Kirishima, wondering if you were his ‘new lucky girl’. You politely waved at them, although the urge to flip them off once they got too close was starting to overflow your system. Kirishima was there to pull you aside though, telling you not to worry about them, leading you inside. He left you by your seat to go get ready; it was obvious he was nervous, but your attempt at cheering him up seemed to work.

The announcements run quickly before the stage lights flash on, the music starts, and the colored LED lights fill the runway.

~.~.~.~

You were in shock. Absolute shock. You could barely process what was going on during the afterparty, one that Kirishima took you to after the show. You couldn’t stop thinking about it. He winked at you. On. Stage. In front of everyone! You were pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to do that, but he did. And the result? You being unresponsive even two hours after the event.

“Y/n, it was just a wink! No need to get so nervous!” Kirishima yells over the music, trying to shake you out of it, trying to get you to loosen up, maybe even have a drink if you wanted, just, not stare into space with your mouth open. “Here, I am going to make you a drink, my signature, and I want to know if you like it, okay?”

You nod, your eyes coming off the crowd to his beautiful red eyes. “I don’t want to drink much tonight, tho. I have to be functional for my project tomorrow, remember?”

“Mhm, that’s why I’m only giving you a sip. I’m not gonna drink either, these parties always have some weird stuff in everything, so don’t take anything from anyone except me, okay?”

“Sure. But, do we really have to stay here? I mean, watching other people get stupid drunk is fun but the music is loud and we can barely hear each other,” you shout, him agreeing with you.

“Alright, just stay here I’ll be right back, we’ll leave soon, okay?”

He comes back in a quick minute, a small crystal glass with a pink liquid inside, sparkling as the bubbles of carbonation rise to the top.

“What’s it called?”

He shrugs, perking his lip out. “I haven’t thought of a name yet, never really intended to. Just try it.” Rolling your eyes, you bring the glass up to your lips, then turning the glass upwards, emptying the alcohol into your throat, although there isn’t much of a burning sensation like you thought there would be, more of a gross wine taste. This was champagne. He laughs at you when you completely deadpan him, trying not to smile. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t have a signature drink. I just wanted you to try the champagne.”

“Why didn’t you offer the champagne then?” You accidentally let a laugh out, still trying to be serious.

“I just thought it would be funny.”

“Well, funny you are, mister manly man,” you tease. You always thought it was cute and funny when he got super giddy when you called him manly, it’s something he likes to be told, obviously. “Let’s go somewhere else, now, shall we?” You perk up, his arm out for you to grab and hold onto as he leads you outside to his ride. He opens the door for you, then closes it once you’re in, hopping in the other side.

“So, where do ya wanna go?”

“I don’t know, actually, I guess I didn’t think of that,” you chuckle.

“Well, I know a place if you’re up for it. It’s not that far and I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“Sure, let’s go then.”

~.~.~.~

Flowers. Everywhere. Covering the field and illuminating in the moonlight. Pink round petals sticking from the center of the top of the light green stems, yellow and purple daisies rest in the meadow, their colors contradicting each other perfectly as the stars make everything glow. The clear skies make the rest of the clear visible to you, hills full of tulips and carnations. Dragonflies and butterflies roam the air, making it their home. This was magic. You couldn’t believe your eyes. How did he find this place?

“Kiris-” you stutter, turning towards him, an excited and happy look on your face, “this- this is beautiful. How did you find this? Oh my god.” You couldn’t help but chortle at the sight. It was too beautiful. He takes a step closer to you, his gaze at the grass below him.

“I thought it was perfect for your project, you know? The start of spring? These flowers and the butterflies and th-”

He couldn’t speak. His voice was muffled by your soft lips on his, your hands moving to cup his face while you screw your eyes shut. He’s surprised, to say the least, not expecting this. You tasted like champagne, but he didn’t hate it at all. He liked it, more than he thought he would. He places his hand on your waist, pulling you closer, wanting more of you. You don’t even realize how much time passes as you two stay in each other’s grip before you disconnect. The feeling in your body was euphoric, you never wanted it to go away. His hands graze up your waist and up to your face, cupping it gently before he leans in to press little kisses on your cheeks before straying away from your touch.

“Let’s take those pictures, now, shall we?”

~.~.~.~

taglist: @combat-wombatus @toosharkinternet @hitosushi @alpha3113 @katsuhera @zerohawks

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orionwhispers · 5 years ago

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Sweet Disaster// Tommy Shelby

(A/N - hello. so basically, i had a dream about chris evans, and then i modified it into this tommy imagine. it was supposed to be a drabble but i physically cannot write anything less than 12k words so thats great. honestly this is very similar to ‘fools gold’ but hey, im in the mood for some angsty fluff and fighting with our main guy tom. next tommy imagine will be the lolita wedding and that will be the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed. thanks for everything, PLS let me know what u think. see you soon! stay safe!)

trigger warnings: fighting, tommy being a douche, everyone being a dumbass, tommy getting jealous and implied sex.

You saw him on a Saturday night, at a bar on the outskirts of the city.

It had been three months, and you had hoped you would have managed to slip through the cracks; pass through the night like the foxes that roamed in the back alleys - but you had never been that lucky, especially not when he was involved.

It was your friend’s birthday, and you tipped back glass after glass of expensive champagne that bubbled and burned at the back of your throat. The lights were blinding, twinkling chandeliers and the smell of cigarettes and french perfume, something like bergamot and vanilla, lingering in the air.

Your dress was cherry red, your hair tied back with a sequinned headband and your lips and cheeks painted in rouge, but you had never felt so awful. It had been bad enough trying to find something to wear, the contents of your wardrobe tipped all over your floor, a mess of mesh and feather and lace, almost everything reminding you of him, as if he had been stitched right into the fabric. You had ended up curled in a ball on the floor, wiping your tears with the Chanel blouse he had bought back from a business trip in Paris.

Stupid fucking boys.

You could hear the girls talking around you, high pitched giggles and exaggerated voices as they gossiped about something or other that faded into static around you. You had spent the past three months holed up in your flat, only leaving for work or the street market on Sunday, stocking up with bread and wine and cheese, everything carb filled and rich to fill the hole in your heart.

You weren’t used to the company of others or the hustle and bustle of a crowded room, and you sat back against the plush cherry velvet seats, dreaming of climbing into bed and devouring the slab of dark chocolate you had been saving.

Your close friend Emma, the one who knew the reason you were staring into space and not laughing and drinking with the rest of the girls, placed a manicured hand on your shoulder, and tilted her head slightly.

“How are you holding up?”

You snapped out of your trance.“I’m fine. I’m sorry I’m not much fun right now.”

“Nonsense.” She pushed you lightly, her voice as soft and playful as ever. “At least you came out! It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“Yeah - I’m sure everyone missed having me bawl like a baby and mope around.”

She elbowed you, “Stop bloody feeling sorry for yourself and have a shot! Christ! You can spend the rest of the week wrapped up in your duvet, but tonight - suck it up, and have a drink!”

She handed you a glass of something dark, and you brought it to your lips, tipping it into your throat with a wince. It felt as though you were drinking petrol.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. All that matters is that it’s top shelf and it came from those fellas over there.” She pointed towards a group of men huddled around the bar. They were shooting quick glances and sly winks towards you and your friends. Sure they were relatively attractive, most likely handsomely rich and dressed in suits that looked finely tailored - but they made your skin crawl.

You hated the way that you would always be comparing other men to him, and you especially hated how they would always come up short.

An hour later and whatever liquor was coursing through your bloodstream had done its job, and everything seemed infinitely brighter. You even found yourself laughing at jokes and stories that you only caught halfway through, the alcohol wonderfully dizzying your brain.

You were so caught up in the rush of being drunk and finally feeling somewhat happy for the first time in forever; that you didn’t realise you had caught the attention of one of the men across the bar. You felt him sidle in next to you, following his friends who had snaked their way into your booth, their arms slung around the girls shoulders, whispering sweet little sentiments into their ears.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked, so close to you that you could smell the sour whiskey on his tongue, your nose wrinkling.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Perhaps you had spent so long being ‘Tommy Shelby's girl’ that you had forgotten what it was like when you were being hit on. You had spent so many nights safely tucked under his arm, his hands possessively wrapped around your body, an unspoken threat sent out to everyone and anyone around you - it had been a long time since a man had tried his luck with you.

Perhaps you were so infatuated with him that you never noticed anybody else. Your mind forever filled with visions of oceanic eyes and three piece suits, his Birmingham accent ringing through your ears like a gospel. He invaded all of your thoughts and infiltrated your dreams, and you loathed and loved him for it. The way that he filled your brain and heart like smoke, clouding your decisions and judgments, like some kind of magical elixir, blurring everything but the shape of him.

The man beside you didn’t concede. He cleared his throat, running a finger over the rim of your glass, ignoring the way your eyebrows furrowed and lip curled.

“Let me get you a drink, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl.

It sounded so wrong. It was never pretty girl. It was - darling, sweetheart, princess. It was - my love, honey, kitten. It was said teasingly and exasperatedly, it was whispered in your ear and buried into the space between your thighs. It was never said in the sticky corner of a club, from the greedy mouth of a stranger undressing you with his eyes.

“I’m - ” Taken. But you weren’t, not anymore, and you hated the way the thought of him made your lip wobble. It’s had been three goddamn months, why did the memory of him still make your body go up in flames?

Emma stiffened beside you, waving a dismissive hand at the gentleman speaking to her, and turned to face you and your unmoving suitor.

“We’re alright here, love. Thanks.”

A flicker of annoyance. His fingers tightening until his knuckles turned white, his tongue running across the ridge of his front teeth. He obviously didn’t take rejection well, and he was doing a shitty job at hiding it.

“Are you sure? It looks like she could do with another drink.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes rolling back at the way he dismissed you and spoke as though you were incapable of thinking for yourself.

“I’m fine.” Your words were curt and clipped, a clear indication of your disinterest, but he refused to back down.

“You shouldn’t be here all alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Really? What kind of man would leave a pretty little thing like you all by herself?”

“The kind of man that would punch you in the fucking teeth for speaking to her like that.”

You froze.

Oh Christ.

A million irreverent, evil, blasphemous phrases hurtled inside of your mind, and you knew that if Polly somehow ever caught wind of what you were thinking, you would be on the receiving end of a sharp slap around the head.

He was here. Of bloody course he was. He had a knack for showing up out of the blue and knocking all of the wind from your lungs.

It hurt like an open wound, feeling his eyes on you, the same ones that had looked at you with love and humour and gentleness, and not being able to fully meet his gaze - knowing just how much it would hurt if you did.

“She’s with me.”

His voice was firm, laced with the same sort of dismissive irritability he used to use whenever somebody tried their luck with you. This time was different however, you couldn’t roll your eyes and kiss him, you couldn’t put your head in the crook of his neck or mutter that you were his under the golden chandeliers, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hip.

You couldn’t do any of that anymore, because you weren’t.

The man seemed pick up on the tension, clicking his tongue slyly, unaware of the consequences his words would have. “Doesn’t seem like she is.”

“Get the fuck out.”

The penny must have dropped for the rest of the boys. The booth going silent as they realised just who the handsome shadowy figure towering over them was. You felt them slowly inch away, head down and gazes low, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. A few hushed mumbles of “holy shit! That’s Tommy Shelby! One of those blinders!” hurtling around the tables beside you, not completely drowned out by clatter of the jazz band.

“I have every right to be here.” The ballsy stranger said, stiffening up beside you. His spine curled as he tried to make himself bigger. “Who says I have to leave?”

You huffed at his words, exhaling like a balloon. “That’s enough.” You didn’t want to cause a scene. You were exhausted, the night taking such a sudden turn you felt like you had whiplash, and the alcohol sat deep in your gut like a rock. You just wanted to get home, away from the man you wanted so badly your fingers ached to hold him, and crawl into your bed with your cat and a mountain of chocolate.

“Well, considering I own the fucking place, I think that I do - and if you don’t, I’ll shoot you.”

That seemed to do it.

You kept your eyes focused on the mans paling face, the grim look washing over him like salty sea air, you didn't dare turn and face the man you could feel burning holes in your neck.

“I.. I...” The man spluttered almost incoherently, rising to his feet and stumbling out from beside you. From behind you you heard Emma giggling coyly into her glass. “Sorry.” He mumbled quickly, his knees buckling when Tommy clapped a hand around his shoulder, holding him in place like a dog.

Tommy’s voice was still, almost too controlled, and you knew that his words were deadly. “If I see you around these parts again, I’ll put a fucking bullet in your skull.”

He gulped and nodded, darting into the sea of bodies in the crowd.

You kept your eyes low. Fumbling with the pearl clasps of your purse you squeezed Emma’s hand in parting and rose to your feet, wanting to leave as painlessly as possible, not even daring to look up at the face staring you down.

“I should go.” Was all you said, sliding out of the booth and onto the marbled floor. You saw the way the rest of the girls were watching the scene unfold before them, and you knew that by Monday you would have a lot of questions to answer, but right now you needed nothing but the safety of your flat.

You didn’t even let your shoulders brush against him. You coiled around him like a snake, your feet moving so fast your embroidered shoes were nothing but a blur of scarlet. You only made it to the hallway, he let you go far enough that you were in private before he reached for you, a familiar, large hand curving around the dip in your shoulder. You hated the way your body reacted, goosebumps rising to his touch unconsciously.

“(Y/N), wait.”

Your name on his tongue was sweeter than honey and richer than wine, it sounded so right that it hurt. It had been so long since you had heard him call you by your name, so long since he had spoken to you that your gut was twisting inside of you, your whole body aching for him to do nothing but repeat that word like a mantra.

You inhaled, thinking of a way out. It was too dangerous, you were playing with fire and you couldn’t get burnt, not again.

“I’m sorry — I didn’t know, it’s Jessica’s birthday and we - ” You hated how you stumbled over your words. You had never felt so uncomfortable around him and it made your skin crawl. You had kissed him under the stars, laughed with him in the corner of a private party, made love to him in every room of his fucking mansion, and now he felt like a stranger.

You knew what he looked like when he woke up, with his sleepy eyes and tousled hair. You knew what he looked like when had spent the night doing something unholy, you had cleaned his knuckles and kissed his wounds as you sat pressed up against him in the tub, his hands wrapped around your waist. You’d stood by his side, your hands intertwined in the middle of some expansive ballroom, and listened to him sweet-talk his way into a new business deal, all the while stroking his thumb over yours. You had seen him vulnerable, pulling you so close to his chest that it was like you were bound together, whispering to you how he loved you, how he couldn’t live without you.

But he still let you go.

He moved in front of you, leaving you with no choice but to meet his eyes. He looked good, but that was a given, he always did, no matter the circumstances. He looked so... soft. He always seemed that way around you, his eyes getting a little bit kinder, the harshness of his words dipped in sugar, even the sharpness of his jaw looked inviting and gentle, practically begging you to wrap your palm around it.

You bit your tongue. You were being ridiculous. You were seeing things that weren’t there. It was over between the two of you, he had made that very clear. You were grasping at straws and all it was going to do was hurt you.

He spoke suddenly, his thick accent cutting through the silence that felt so loud. “It’s alright. Only really been ours since last night, there were... problems with the last owners.”

Despite everything you felt the ghost of a smile tugging on the edge of your lips, immediately knowing what ‘problems’ he was referring to.

“Arthur?” You asked.

“Yes.” He said with a small grin. “Arthur.”

A moment passed. The air around you feeling all too hot and all to cold at once. It had been a long time since you had seen one another, and both of you were caught up in appreciating such familiar beauty up close. You had missed the small things about him, like the slight curl of his hair and the veins in his neck, you could remember running your lips across the curve and dip of his throat.

You were treading in dangerous waters. It wouldn’t be long until the current pulled you under, and you weren’t quite sure how much longer you could keep a rational mind. You inhaled, flittering your eyes to meet his in some kind of signal of parting, pulling your clutch tighter to your body as an attempt to keep yourself grounded. “I should go. It was good to see you, Tommy.”

You spun on your heel, heading for the large golden doors that led outside. Fresh air would clear your mind, the stars and the velvet night would be good for clearing out all of the junk rattling around in your skull, but you barely got two steps forward before he spoke, already knowing his next words before he even opened his mouth.

“Let me drive you home.”

He spoke so surely, addressing you the way he would one of his brothers or Johnny, as if he knew what was best for you. Once upon a time you would have believed that he did, let him grasp you by the wrists and drag you to the end of the world if he asked nicely, those fucking baby blues and pink lips dulling any warning sirens in your head.

Even now, after everything, you knew that he would never put you in danger, that he would always protect you. And it was with the knowledge of that striking your heart like lightning, you knew that you were still hopelessly, undoubtedly in love with him - not that you ever thought differently, but you had done a damned good job of pushing your feelings away.

“You’ve had a lot to drink,” He said, “and I wouldn’t even let you out on those fucking streets by yourself stone cold sober.”

You pursed your lips. “I’m not drunk, and you don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m driving you home.”

You looked up at him through your painted lashes, disarming him in a million different ways you didn’t even realise. You were oblivious to the fact that his breath felt trapped in his lungs.“You and I both know that’s not a good idea, Tommy.”

“Cmon. Get your things.”

You sidestepped away, pushing the bottom of your heel deeper into the champagne coloured carpet. “No Tommy, I’m not a child! I don’t need your help.”

He rolled his eyes, something akin to fond exasperation rising to his cheeks. You felt your heart drop and flutter like it was a sparrow inside of you, you had never thought you would see that face again, and it hurt how something so simple could twist and mould you in his hands like clay.

He pressed his hands to the small of your back, pushing you forward.

“I don’t care if you don’t want my help. I’m doing it anyway.”

You huffed. Too tired and drunk and confused to put up a real fight.“Fine.” He smiled coyly and his smug attitude made you click your teeth, running a hand through the curls in your hair, not stopping the childish retort on the edge of your tongue. “Prick.”

You felt his hand swat at you, dangerously close to the hem of your dress and you were certain that your cheeks were the same colour as the candles flickering on the tables below. It was such a playful, tender thing to do, and so horribly familiar - memories of his hands on you, pinching and teasing and digging in, a way of communicating without words, something so intimate and personal, something that only the two of you knew.

You wondered if he felt the same way. You wondered if he was reminded of the past, of peach moons and starlight kisses and strawberry lipstick, but as always he remained impassive, as poker faced as always as he strolled down the hall, pushing open the wide brass doors and waiting for you to pass through, him trailing behind you, like always.

———————————————————————

Through your hazy eyes the moon almost looked pink, like a spotlight shining down on you, illuminating the both of you as Tommy’s car purred down the streets, like a black cat stalking under the cover of darkness.

It smelt like him.

Like cigarettes and sin and mint and woodsmoke. You were reminded of driving at midnight with the windows down, his hand wrapped around your thigh, his eyes anywhere but the road. You thought of sticky skin and leather seats and the smell of sex, breathless little laughs and the feel of his teeth biting down on your top lip.

You stared at the polish on your fingernails, hoping for some kind of distraction from the man beside you. It wasn’t far to your flat, and you prayed that the drive home would be as hitch free as possible.

“Had a good night?” Tommy asked, looking over at you from behind the wheel. He’s not even sure what he’s saying, his usually mechanical brain almost short circuiting because you’re finally next to him again. Words and phrases seem tasteless and meaningless, but he wants to savour as much of you as he can. He knows it makes him hypocritical, especially given everything he’s put you through, but he’s never really been very conventional with his love.

“It was alright.”

“Friends from work?”

“Yeah. It was Jessica’s birthday, she wanted to get drunk, you know how it can be.”

“And that...that man - ?” He cleared his throat, hoping that his words came off breezier than they sounded in his head, pretending as if the thought of you with somebody else didn’t feel like a noose around his neck. “Who was he?”

“Just some stupid twat.”

Your words weren’t doing much to quell the fiery flicker of anger inside of him, half of his brain telling him to turn the car around and put a razor blade through the fuckers eye - but one glance over at your sleepy, beautiful face and all of his jealousy fades into mere smoke.

None of it matters.

Nothing will ever matter more than you.

“I shouldn’t have even been out tonight, but Emma practically dragged me.”

Emma. The name rings a bell. He flips through a mental picture book of everyone you’ve spoken about, and finally lands on the glamorous, dark skinned, velvet haired vixen that you called your best friend.

Memories come flooding back.

The nights you would spend with her when he was too busy with work. How in the darkness of his office with nothing but an empty feeling in his chest and glass of bourbon beside him, the phone would ring and cut through the silence.

He’d roll his eyes when Emma spoke quickly down the line, words slurred and filled with giggles as she would explain the drunken shenanigans you had both fallen into. He’d drive through the night and the dim city streets, his mind for once not filled with business deals or money, instead his heart tugging at the thought of his doe eyed, honey lipped girl waiting for him in the city.

“I think she had too much to drink.” Emma would say, clambering into a taxi cab she had managed to hail, teetering in her tall satin shoes. “I wanted to take her home with me, but she was causing such a big fuss and asking for you - couldn’t bloody say no.”

Outside the club his voice would be stern and his stare would be solid. Clipped, quick words to the doormen, feeling you press your cold nose into the base of his throat, mumbling something incoherent about how pretty he was. He’d scold you fondly. Settle you down in the back seats of his car and cover you up with his jacket, smiling ever so softly at the way you cuddled into the warmth and the familiar smell.

He thought of how lonely his nights had been without you.

“How is she?”

“Fine. Everyone is just fine.”

But how are you? He wants to ask, but he has a feeling that no matter the answer he’ll still end with a bullet in his gut, so he lets the silence engulf the both of you, nothing in the air but unspoken tension and the soft purr of the engine.

He had an idea. Something conniving and crafty, something that he’s been wanting to do since the night he told you that it wasn’t safe to be with him, the night he told you to leave. Thomas Shelby has always been a strong, level headed man, but something about you just makes him crumble. You have a way of twisting around him, snaking around his thoughts and feelings like a vine, and he gives himself up wholly.

He would never put you in a position you were uncomfortable with, but he can’t help the claw in his gut when he thinks of how long it’s been since you’ve been apart. He can smell the sweet liquor and perfume on you, can see the way your eyes are glossed ever and your hair is mussed. You’re tired, and after the way that goddamn leech of a man had been fawning over you Tommy is in no mood to leave you alone, he likes knowing that you’re safe, it’s the only thing that makes him able to sleep at night.

He glanced over to you, watching as you yawned into your palm, your soft, pretty eyes looking at the stars and the moon and his decision was made for him.

“You missed the turn.” You said a few moments later, perking up a little in your seat.

“Hmm?”

“You missed it. You should have turned left back there.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you’re pretty sure you know the reason why. Despite the part of your body that is sparked like a match at the thought of spending the night with him, you also know that it is too dangerous, that the two of you together are fire and gasoline.

“No. No, Tommy. I’m not staying over with you.”

“Yes you are. You can stay in a guest room - it’ll give you time to sleep off that hangover.”

“I’m hardly drunk.”

“Well, when we get home you can walk in a straight line for me, eh?”

“It’s not my home.”

That hurt.

He ignored you, feeling the familiar bite of irritation, hating that he wasn’t the same man to you that he once was. He could feel his tone getting desperate, and under any other circumstance he would be furious at being so weak, but never around you. “Just stay. Tonight? For me. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not getting into any trouble.”

“Tommy Shelby never sleeps.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, sighing in defeat. Tommy smiled, and realised as the car lurched over the bridge that’ll take you back where you both belong that he’s the happiest he has been in a long time.

—————————————————————

His house was as intimidating as ever, even more so under the thick blanket of the night. The architecture looked gothic, the sprawling roof and high chimneys almost seeming menacing as the car pulled up along the gravel, the low sound of the rocks crackling like a fire.

It almost felt strange. A house you had stepped foot in hundreds of times, suddenly feeling unfamiliar and mystifying. It was like the very first time you had seen the house a few years ago, how the large rooms and the tall ceilings seemed empty and dangerous, as though they housed a million secrets.

But since then it had been full of so much light. You had danced with him playfully, barefoot on the kitchen floor, with the windows open and soft jazz flittering in the air like sunlight. You had slept on the sofa in the drawing room, tangled up against his bare chest, the room littered with wine stained glasses and cigarette burns. You had laughed until you had cried, kissed him on the vivaciously on the mouth, sat through dozens of rowdy family dinners, shared coffee and pastry under the sleepy morning light - and now it felt as though a million years had passed.

You let him lead you inside. Keeping a safe distance and a wary eye as though he was an unpredictable stray dog that needed to be kept at arms length. He sensed your suspicion and ignored it, marching forward like a solider, pretending that your distrust didn’t make him feel awful. He hated to think of you on edge because of him, he hated how small it made him feel. He never wanted to be insignificant to you.

You noticed how bare it was in the hallway. Once upon a time the coat rack would have been filled with your furs and shawls, your pastel pink boots and his forever charcoal posh oxfords lined next to one another, a poignant reminder of their owners and the differences that you both shared.

It wasn’t just lack of your belongings, somehow the house seemed much emptier. It didn’t smell as worn as it usually did, the warmth of a recently lit fire didn’t dwell in the air and there were no keys or shoes by the front door. You knew that Mary kept a clean house, but this was something different, and a sour thought suddenly hit you.

“You haven’t been home much?” You tried to keep the jealousy out of your voice and remain level headed, but it was proving hard when you were feeling so nauseous at the thought of him sharing a bed with somebody else.

“Lot of late nights at the office.” He shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and wrapped it around a hanger, his icy blue eyes catching yours. “Home didn’t feel like home anymore.”

You didn’t miss the implication in his words, but you chose to ignore it.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“I thought I was here to sleep.”

“You are. But what kind of host would I be if I didn’t offer my guest a nightcap?”

You made a noise. Something halfway between a scoff and a huff.

“Tea? Whiskey?”

“No, I’m fine thank you.”

“What about hot chocolate? I still have some of that god awful strawberry stuff you love so much.”

Memories of sickly sweet strawberry kisses flash in your head. Images of Tommy wincing and groaning as if you had poisoned him. Belly laughs and pillow talk. All things you had tried so hard to forget.

“No. I don’t drink that anymore.”

He looked at you. There were no diamond chandeliers or dark corners or red velvet walls distorting your appearance, just the two of you stood opposite in the hallway of his mansion. He looked you up and down, not in a sleazy way, like the man at the bar who had so desperately wanted to get his hands under your dress but almost - longingly. There was something in his eyes. Swimming right in those ocean eyes was something you couldn’t quite make out, he opened his mouth to say something but before he could speak you heard the whine of the door above you.

“Mr Shelby! You’re back.” It was Mary, stood at the top of the stairs. Still dressed in her maids uniform despite the ungodly hour, she looked as pristine as ever, and you couldn’t think of a time you had seen the elderly woman without makeup on. She flew down the stairs, eager to offer Thomas anything she could, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she finally saw you.

“Miss (Y/L/N)!” She said, trying to control the shock in her voice. She hadn’t been there the day that you left, but it wouldn’t take a fool to guess what had happened between you and her boss. Just like you, she probably assumed you would never return to the Shelby house. After a moment she smiled kindly, regaining her composure after the initial shock. “It’s a pleasure to see you once again.”

“And you, Mary.”

“Oh! Mr Shelby I’ve made up your quarters and -” she stopped, realising what she was saying and she awkwardly shifted as she tried to change the subject. “Can I get you anything? Shall I bring you some tea? Or some wine?”

“Oh no. I’m fine thank you, really.”

“You know what Mary,” You heard Tommy say, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “Can you fix us some drinks? Whatever’s in the cupboards is fine. Oh, and bring us those chocolates Ada brought from New York. We’ll be in the sitting room.”

“Tommy - ” You started, but he was already gone, walking through his house with renewed energy, and you strained your ears to hear the sentences he called out over his shoulder.

“One drink. For old times sake.”

“Ugh. You’ll be the death of me, Shelby.”

———————————————————————

It should have been awkward. It should have been awkward and uncomfortable and painful - but it wasn’t.

He lit a fire, something about the yellow flames and the crackling wood soothing you like warm milk. You missed the feel of his sofas, the ones that cost such an outrageous price that it made your eyes water, and you sunk into the cushions far more easily than you liked. Mary had made your favourite drink, and the situation felt so familiar that it was ridiculous, but it was more ridiculous how good everything felt.

He was as charming as ever. Giving you those side eye glances and cheeky smiles as he spoke, asking about your family and telling you stories of the trouble his brothers had been in. He moved around the room in a blur of navy, because as God would have it tonight of all nights he was wearing your favourite blue suit, the one that made him look so beautiful and powerful.

He didn’t ask about work, and you were glad, because you weren’t ready to tell him yet.

Perhaps an hour passed, the two of you dancing around each other, neither one wanting to be the one that crossed the line first. Your mind was blurry but you knew that this had gone on too long, you needed to pull the plug before it was too late, but as always, Tommy got there first.

“It feels like fate.” He said, his voice so much warmer than it had been a few moments before.

“What does?”

“Running into you tonight.”

You scoffed. “Please. Tommy Shelby doesn’t believe in fate.”

“I didn’t. Not until I met you.”

Your whole body felt like it had been set alight. He knew just what to say to get you to curl around his little finger. He was watching you intently, moving forward so his elbows were on his knees, as though he was desperate to hear your reply. He was being honest, more so than he had been in a long time, but your mind was too filled with the past to give into his sweet words.

“So,” You said, knocking back the last dregs of your drink. “Are you just going to pretend it never happened?”

“What?”

“Cut the crap, Tommy.” You snarked. “You know what I mean.” A breathless laugh. “God, this is ridiculous. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Don’t say that.”

You rubbed your forehead, massaging away a migraine you could feel brewing. “I need to go to bed. I don’t want to get into all of this again.”

“(Y/N) - ”

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

You stood up and heard the sound of his glass of whisky hitting his red oak table. Your fingers touched the edge of the door handle, but he was pulling you backwards before you could leave. You were facing him, trying to keep your eyes away from his, not wanting to go falling into him the way your body desired.

“You might not want to talk but you can listen.” He said, so close to you that your noses were almost touching. You pursed your lips and squirmed like a child, but he raised an eyebrow and you huffed, letting him speak, his words shattering you like you were a sheet of ice.“Im still in love you.”

You bit your lip to stop from crying. The scab had been picked off, blood clotting down your ankles and onto the floor.

“Think I will be till the day I die. Even after.”

His words were so sincere and you wanted to believe them. You could feel him watching you, cornering you, willing you to say the words back, needing to hear the words fall from your lips.

You held up one finger, trying to stop him from speaking. “Don’t.”

“It’s true.”

You could feel the hot prickle of tears forming in your eyes, and the way your throat constricted like you’d been swallowing cotton balls.“Was this the plan all along? Invite me back, get me drunk and think I’ll crawl back into bed with you after you tell me a few lines?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I would never do that to you.”

He was angry. More so with himself, he’s always been in control, so articulate and calculated, but he was losing his grip on you, his knuckles turning white. He knew he made a mistake that night when he told you to leave, but his pride was too strong to do anything about it. Seeing you tonight had been more than just a coincidence, he knew that, and everything in him was screaming at him to fight for you.

“I miss you.” It ached for him to say it out loud, such a powerful man admitting that you were his weakness, that you bring him to his knees like he’s a child.

“I miss you too, Tommy, you know I do. But - ”

“I fucked up.”

“Tom.”

“I never should have let you leave.”

“We - Us - It’ll never - ” You couldn’t think let alone speak, all of your words twisting and tumbling from your mouth like loose marbles.

“We were a lot of things, but you can’t tell me that we aren’t supposed to be together.”

“I don’t want to talk about this... I can’t!”

“So let’s not talk.”

His lips met yours and you were on fire. The breath you didn’t know you were holding was knocked out of you by the force of his body on yours. His hands were all over you, checking you were real, feeling the curve and dip of your body the way his mind had conjured up in the dark in the months that you had been gone, he savoured you entirely, he devoured you.

“This isn’t - This isn’t right.” It was lie. Nothing felt more right. Your whole body ached and quivered for him, you wanted to breathe in his smell and run your fingers through his hair until they bled, but you also didn’t want to go down without a fight.

He knew you too well though.

“Stop it.” He had you backed up against the wall, his body pressed in between your thighs. He’d caged you in, one hand curling softly under your jaw, manipulating you so that you had no choice but to look right into his damn sea foam eyes. “Stop being so stubborn.”

“Stop being such a prick then.”

Lips on your neck. His hands all over you. Inhaling your perfume and the smell of your hair, digging his fingertips into your hip, a jolt of pain that you knew would leave a bruise. He captured your lips again, relishing in the way you felt under him, he was desperate for more, and he smiled cheekily when he heard you moan.

“I thought you wanted to go to sleep.” He teased, his voice was playful but he was struggling to keep his composure, he felt like his head was being held underwater, the pleasure teetering on pain.

“I hate you.” You said, gasping for air, feeling adrenaline and liquor and lust flow through you.

“No you don’t.”

You bit down on his plump bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. He winced slightly, and rolled his eyes, shoving you backwards into his bookcase, kissing you even harder. A few novels and a porcelain figurine fell to the floor, the small black horse shattering at your feet. He grumbled slightly, and you giggled into his neck. You bent down to try and collect the broken pieces but he swatted your hand away, kissing and sucking all across your neck and throat, wanting to mark his territory.

“Stop that. I don’t want you cutting yourself.” He muttered into your flesh, clasping your hands together and holding you by the wrists, refusing to let you do anything but melt into him - not that there was anything in the world you would rather be doing.

Slowly the kisses got softer, more tender, all across your collar and shoulders like raindrops. There was something methodical about it, almost poetic, like he was trying to savour the taste of your skin, and the way your body rippled under him. After a moment he stopped, his hands tangling into your hair, gripping you by your jaw, looking into your glossed out, wide eyes.

“I really fucking missed you. I’m sorry.”

You shuddered. “I know.”

“Tomorrow we’ll talk. Alright?” There are a million things he needed to say. A million things he needed you to know, but there was nothing more important to him at that moment than having you under him, letting his body show you all of the things he couldn't put into words. He needed you, all of you. His head was fucked and he needed the wash of calm you gave him, he needed to feel whole, the way that only you could make him.

“Tomorrow.” You whispered.

He nodded solemnly. Ducking his head and pressing your mouths together, hot and raw and heavy. You were sweeter than sugar, stronger than whisky and prettier than all of the stars in the sky, and he struggled to keep himself from buckling at the knees under your touch. The only thing that could stop him from moulding your bodies together were the sweet little words that left your lips, the ones that rang like a gospel in his ears.

“Take me to bed, Tommy.”

————————————————————

He broke it off three months prior.

You had been missing each other, your schedules hectic and mismatched, and it had been a good few weeks since you had spoken for more than a few stolen seconds over the telephone. Finally, like the sun parting through rain clouds, there was one weekend that was empty in both of your diaries and Tommy told you to expect a car outside of your flat one Friday afternoon.

A whole weekend. Two days and three nights spent with your beloved, it should have been a time filled with late nights and rumpled bedsheets, coffee in the morning and wearing nothing but his linen shirts and the pretty lilac underwear he loved so much - but it turned soon turned sour.

On Sunday you had been making rhubarb pie. Folding and rolling the pastry between your fingertips, listening to the birds whistling through the open window and the lull of soft jazz from the radio behind you.

He had taken a call. A sullen look falling over his face as soon as he answered the phone. He had shut himself in his study, and all you could hear was the deep rumble of his voice and the sound of his footsteps, and so you left him alone, and busied yourself with other things.

It had all been so wonderful. Riding his horses through the fields, reading books under his arm as he rifled through papers, stealing kisses that tasted like hard candies and peppermint. You'd forced him to relax, made him take a bubble bath with you, poured lavender and vanilla oil across his aching shoulders until he let out an involuntary moan, ran your fingers through his hair until his breath evened out and his eyes fluttered shut, finally feeling at peace next to the woman he loved.

You’d laughed and made love and kissed and danced and it had all be so perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

For 48 hours he had been yours. He wasn’t “Thomas Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders,” he had been your Tommy. You weren’t a fool, you knew that work was always the most important thing to him, that he lived and breathed for the company he had built from his two bare hands, his work ethic and brilliance was something you admired about him, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t sting when he slipped back into business mode.

It had been about an hour, and you were cleaning the counters, something soothing about finding the dark marble granite under the mess of flour. You knew that Mary would have a fit if she knew you were cleaning, but you enjoyed the normalcy it gave you. You heard him before you saw him, the sound of his matte leather brogues on the tile in the hallway, and you lifted your head when you felt his presence in the doorway.

“You need to leave.”

His tone was so sudden and blunt that it almost made you laugh, but one look at the sallowness of his skin and the intensity in his eyes made you straighten up. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Sabini.”

“What about him?”

“He knows - he fucking knows.”

He was being uncharacteristically agitated, and it sent a deep chill down your spine. You lurched forward, hands spread, wanting to carry some of his worry. “Knows what? Tommy, calm down.”

“He’s had men lurking outside your flat.”

“What?”

“One of the new boys spotted ‘em. Fucking filth have been there all weekend.”

You felt your heart sink to your stomach. Truthfully, whilst the thought of Sabini and his men watching you made your skin crawl, you were more worried by the way it seemed to have frazzled Tommy. You weren’t used to seeing him so... anxious, and that sent red hot warning signs to your brain.

Your relationship had never been a secret per se, but you never made it public. After a few months of rendezvous in hotels and bars up and down the country, and Tommy realising his feelings for you were much more than just lust - he laid everything out bare. He told you he wanted you. But he also told you what the consequences of hanging off his arm were. You knew the risks, knew what chaos his love could bring, but you were falling so deeply that none of it mattered to you. You weren’t stupid, and Tommy did everything in his power to keep you safe, and the two of you found a mellow middle ground, a place where you could be happy and young and in love, without all of the mayhem.

“Well - it’s alright. I’m here. I’m safe aren’t I? He was probably just scoping the place out, he probably thought you were there and - ”

You were rambling, and most of what you were saying was untrue. You both knew the reason that Sabini was there, it was a message, a warning. A threat to Tommy that he could take away his weakness with one snap of his slimy little fingers.

You shrugged off your apron, and stepped towards him, shaking your head. “We knew that one day this would happen. That people would find out, it’s not your fault Tom.”

“We were stupid. We were reckless.”

“And what? We were supposed to just stop living our lives in case somebody saw us?”

“Not just somebody. Somebody who could fucking kill you.”

“Tommy.”

“You need to leave.”

“Listen to me -”

“I’ll get Bernard to drive you to the station. Your friend...” He paused momentarily, trying to remember a name he had heard in passing. “Sarah? She still lives in Manchester doesn’t she? You’ll stay with her till I’ve sorted this out.”

You scoffed, your eyes the size of dinner plates.“I’m not leaving.” You tried to make him see sense, but you were having a hard time keeping your voice levelled. “I’ve got work, Tom. I can’t just up and leave.”

He ignored you. You could see his brain whirring a mile a minute, the wheels inside his mind frantically looking for a solution. You marched over to him, forcing him to look at you. “I’m not scared.”

“Well then you’re a fool.”

“Am I? For not running at the first sign of danger?”

“Don’t fucking start with me. Not about this. This isn’t some fucking game.”

“I never said it was, Tom. But what? I’m supposed to hide out in another fucking city until all of this settles down.”

“Stop being so fucking difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult. I know what I signed up for, we both did. We knew this would happen eventually.”

“And now that is has - we have to be smart.”

“Not everything in life is a business deal.”

“What would you know about that?”

It was a low blow. Something that struck you like a winning punch to the gut, you stepped back from the impact, shaking your head and pursing your lips. You’ll let him brew in his anger, let him get worked up and pissed off, and you’ll wait for his apology in a few days, something expensive and designer showing up at your front door, his way of saying “I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

“You know what? I’m leaving. Call me in a few days when you get your head fucking screwed back on. We can talk then.”

“No.”

It came out strangled, like the word sliced the inside of his throat when he said it.

“What?”

“You need to stay away. We need to end this.”

“End this?” You scoffed. “What? Like we’re just a business deal?”

“It’s not safe, and I can’t do anything that’s going to jeopardise the company.”

“The fucking company?” You were furious, your body stinging with hurt, feeling betrayal wash over you like sour milk. “How - How dare you!”

“I think it’s best if we spend some time apart.”

“So this is it then? You’ll throw away everything just because some fucking man has been looking around corners?” His silence made you more enraged, and you willed him to fight back. Fight for you. “Do you want me to leave? Do you want me to go, Tom?”

Silence.

And then - “It’s not safe.”

“Fuck you.”

That was the last thing you had said to him. Three words replaced with two that shattered around the room like an earthquake. You had tears in your eyes, and you rushed upstairs to pack your things, your heart breaking into sharp little pieces inside of you. He could hear the start of your sobs, the ones you tried so hard to muffle with your hand and he truly fucking hated himself. He gripped the marble above the fireplace and steadied his breathing, pushing out any thoughts of the weekend. He willed himself to shove away the happy memories, the sound of your laugh and the smell of your skin, the way he didn’t hear the shovels when you were beside him, safe and warm in his arms.

He needed to do what he did best, regain control and protect those he cared about, and right at the fucking top of the list was you. Any niggles of rationality and guilt telling him that pushing you away was wrong quickly turned to ash in his mind, he was certain that this was the right thing to do, despite the way that it really fucking hurt. He had to keep you safe. Men like him didn’t get to have nice things like you.

So he shut the door to his office, muffling the sound of you rummaging around upstairs, a part of you wishing and hoping that he would open the door and kiss you and apologise, and instead he picked up the phone, and went back to work.

———————————————————————

You woke up to sunlight painting your skin, and an empty bed, the silk sheets in disarray and bundled beside your bare body.

Oh fuck.

Like an ice cold bucket of water dropping over your head, you remembered every detail of what had happened overnight. Your skin relived the feeling of hands and fingertips and oh god, tongue dragging all across you, branded into your memory like a burn. It was the best nights sleep you had gotten in a long time, and the bed was so warm and soft and smelling like sin that you struggled to even lift your head from the pillow to check the time.

Mid morning.

You hadn’t slept in this long for a while, and you knew the reason why. Head slightly pounding from too much alcohol and adrenaline, you crawled out of bed, washing the remnants of last nights makeup from your face and pulling on your crumpled dress and stockings that had been haphazardly flung over the furniture. Your heart lurched a little when you freshened up in the bathroom and noticed your toothbrush still in the holder on the sink, right next to his.

You could hear cluttering downstairs and followed the noise, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, unable to stop the small smile that the sight gave you. He had evidently sent Mary on an errand, something far away so he could make you both breakfast in peace, away from prying eyes. He looked so boyish, so domestic, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, nimble fingers turning the bacon on the pan, his hair mussed from sex and sleep. It made you feel like you had swallowed a match. Your whole body alight from seeing him so gentle and vulnerable, so bare for just you to see.

Thomas Shelby whisking eggs and squeezing oranges, barefoot in his own kitchen, the sight rarer than a unicorn, and you were the only person who ever got close enough.

“Hi.” It left your mouth awkwardly and rolled off your tongue like an ice cube.

“Morning.” He turned and smiled, his lazy eyes trawling the length of your body. You hadn’t noticed it, but he felt a flicker of hurt that you were in your own clothes, a part of him wanting and hoping that you would be in one of his shirts, something that he loved much more than he could comprehend. He shook his head, willing the thoughts away. “It’ll be done soon. I think I’ve burnt the toast though, and probably added too much salt to the eggs.”

You smiled thinly, the light not reaching your eyes. This was all too much, all too soon. He was here and he was beautiful and you were right at the frontline, ready to get your heart broken all over again.“Last night,” You cleared your throat, as though the words were lodged deep inside. “It was a mistake.”

He didn’t blink, cool stare focused on the meal he was preparing, long fingers methodically slicing and dicing, as though your words didn’t make his heart thump against his rib cage. He didn’t like it, not one bit, the way that it sounded as though you regretted the time you had spent together. He never wanted you to feel like that, like the intimacy you had shared was something crude, as though you were a one night stand of a drunken fuck at a bar, this was so much more than that. This was love.

But Tommy liked holding his cards to his chest, and it was much easier to tease you then tell the truth.

“It didn’t feel like a mistake. You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

You scoffed, hating his cockiness yet knowing that he was obviously right. “Don’t be a twat, Tommy.”

The ghost of a smile on his face, if you had blinked you might have missed it, but you were always the best person at reading him - the only person he had let close enough to see him, flaws and all. He always liked when you bickered with him, his little firecracker. He didn’t tolerate just anyone speaking to him the way you did, but he would let you get away with bloody murder and he couldn’t deny that it didn’t bring a flush to his cheeks when you got particularly feisty.

You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off, his hands full with cutlery and plates filled with slap up breakfast foods, and you couldn’t deny that your mouth was watering.

“Eat first. We’ll talk later.”

You let out a sound halfway between a huff and a groan but caved in, clambering into the seat he had pulled open for you and piling your fork high. He watched you with a smile, the way you looked so young and pretty and angelic in the morning light, no makeup on and eyes still drowsy with sleep, like some kind of Renaissance painting he wanted to hang above his fireplace and stare at whenever things got rough.

He filled the silence with small talk, noting the weather and a story about one of John’s kids hiding a puppy in her room for almost a week without anyone noticing. You listened as best as you could, but you were distracted by the palomino mare you could see grazing in the fields behind his house, and something was prickling at your skin like brambles.

You cleared your throat, acting as nonchalant as you could muster. “Emma tells me that May Carlton is training your new mare.” Your knife sliced through your yolk, rich butter yellow bleeding across your plate. You tried to keep your voice steady, but you could feel the thickness in your throat as you remembered how it hurt like a bullet wound when your best friend had told you of his new associate. “I hear she is quite beautiful.”

“Yes, I suppose she is.” He murmured, cutting the edge of fat from his bacon. “But she’s nothing compared to you.”

You tried to pretend that his words didn’t make you swoon, and he tried to hide how much he loved it when you got jealous, something about the fire in your eyes making him want to push you up against a wall and kiss you till you couldn’t talk.

He paused, a coy smile on his lips. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?”

You scoffed. “Well, it’s only fair. What with all those Blinders following me. Can’t even go to the bloody shops without one watching me.”

So you had noticed. He had half been expecting a blazing call where you yelled at him for having men watch over you, and it had left a hole of disappointment in his gut when it never came.

“You know I would never let you be unprotected.”

“I know.”

Your eyes met, a wave of warm affection washed over the both of you, but you pulled your gaze back quickly, focusing your attention anywhere else.

“You should come and watch her.”

You froze, wondering if Tommy had just invited you to spend the day with May Carlton, you were sure that would be one evening that would end in blood and tears.

“The mare.” He said, picking up at your uncomfortableness and biting back a smile. “We’ve called her ‘Wicked Gypsy’, and she is brilliant. I reckon she could win the whole bloody thing.”

You liked how passionate he got when he talked about horses. Liked the way that he seemed to light up like a child, despite all the finery and bravado, you liked knowing that the little boy inside of him was still there, hidden deep, deep down, but still there. You were too busy being captivated by him that it took you a moment to realise that he had asked you to join him at the races.

You wanted nothing more, you truly wanted nothing more than to be his girl again. Cradled under his arm, dressed in lace and fur, his lips pressed to the heat of your throat, sweet little words whispered in your ear, a hand tight and possessive around your waist - but it just wasn’t that easy.

You sighed, crossing your cutlery. “Tom. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I want you there. I need my good luck charm.”

“Tommy, after everything. I don’t think we should.”

Firmer now, he looks at you, emphasising his point.“I need you there. When she wins, I need my best girl to be right by my side.”

He was so slippery. So sickly sweet that you could drown in him, struggle to move in the molasses that dripped from his tongue. He was dangerous, carnal fire and sin, but he wasn’t lying, he needed you, really fucking needed you.

You exhaled, thinking things through, and massaging the migraine brewing in your temples. He could see you trying to think of an excuse, another lie about how you’re bad for each other, but he got there first, not wanting to hear it.

“I’ll have a car pick you up on Friday.” He turned his hands so his palms were facing the ceiling, eyebrows raised playfully, “Or... maybe you can stay here the night. You know you’re welcome.”

Always so bloody charming. But you can’t stop the tsunami of thoughts, the mistakes of the past. “What is this, Tommy? What are we doing?”

“I fucked up. I never should have let you go.”

“But you did. And - I don’t want to get hurt all over again.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“You always do.”

You words stung him worse than if you had slapped him across the face, and he had to take a moment to swallow the sour taste that had been swimming across his tongue. He reached his hands out, clasping them with yours, so large and warm and safe, and he spoke with intensity.

“Just - Come with me, Friday. Please. I can’t do this without you.”

Friday. Suddenly it was no longer about slipping up or falling back in love and wondering what your friends might think when you told them, it was about something else that you needed to tell him.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Leaving where?” His tone was one of disbelief, his eyes sizing you up, wondering if this was some kind of elaborate excuse.

You sighed, taking your hands away from under his, noticing the lack of warmth immediately. “To Oxford. Peggy transferred me to the company over there.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because I asked her to.”

“You did what?”

You could see him thinking, wondering how none of his boys had found out this priceless piece of information that makes him want to throw his expensive fucking china at the wall.

“I did it all through work. Emma’s the only one who knew. I’m getting the train Wednesday night.”

He stood up so quickly his chair squealed across the wood floor, his mouth agape. “So what? You’re just going to leave?”

“There’s nothing here for me.”

He pointed one finger at you, scolding you like a child. “Don’t say that.”

You narrowed your eyes, shaking your head. “It’s true isn’t it? Why should I waste more time on this stupid cat and mouse game?”

“Is that all this is to you? A game?”

“You left me. For three months I was completely alone! What happens when something comes up, huh? How do I know that you won’t leave me all over again?” It was hard to keep the emotion from your voice, hard not to show just how badly the impact of those three months had been. “We need this! Some...some fucking space. Maybe being a few cities away will be good.”

It was a lie. Nothing sounded worse, but you had to say your piece because god knows you can’t keep holding everything in.

His voice was frayed, split like the hairs in an old rope. “Don’t. Don’t give me space. That’s the last thing I want from you.”

His words and his actions never lined up, and it made your blood boil. All of the anger you had turned into tears had remoulded into red hot rage, and you slammed your hands down on his expensive counter tops, flesh on marble ringing around the kitchen. “So then why did you let me go? Why did you tell me to leave?”

“Because I thought that was best for you!”

“You aren’t the one who gets to decide that!”

“Everything I do. Everything I fucking do - is to protect you.”

“Don’t say that. Protecting me isn’t making me leave, and then not speaking to me for three fucking months.”

You could see the click in his jaw, the vein in his throat throbbing. “You knew what you signed up for when you met me.”

“No, actually, I don’t think I did.”

It was true. You expected late nights, days of no contact, blood staining your bathroom counter and men watching your every move. You expected fights and make ups, going to the races in your finery and then walking down the shit filled streets of Small Heath, but you never expected that he would just leave you the way he did.

He was breathless, trying to control the rise and fall of his chest and the way that his fingers clenched. He never thought that you would leave, he had some fucked up feeling that you would always come back to him, that the two of you would always end up on the same ship, drifting along the same ocean. It was maddening. He had tasted you once again, had you under him, his girl reduced to putty in his hands. It had all made sense, the night seemed to be sweeter and the stars a little brighter and his lungs a little looser when you were next to him. It had all felt so right, and now you were going to leave.

He put it down to exasperation at not being in control anymore, the fact that he was watching you slip between his fingers once again like grains of sand, and so he said the worst thing he thought of, something that he knew would rip through you like a shot to the heart.

“Well at least I got one last fuck eh? That was all you were really any good for anyway.”

He could hear it immediately, the sound of the bullet leaving the gun, or perhaps that’s your heart shattering in two. He regretted it, he regretted it so badly that he wished he could pull the words back down his throat and swallow them like they were poison.

Your eyes watered but you didn’t let him see you cry. Your mouth opened and then closed not wanting to waste your breath on a reply, not wanting to hurt him the way he’d hurt you. You didn’t bother with a reply, not trusting yourself enough to talk, only wanting to be alone to like your wounds in peace. So you turned and left, last nights heels echoing through the hallway, the sound of the front door creaking open and slamming shut, silence falling once again.

Tommy pushed the plates off the table.

—————————————————————————-

Wednesday night and you were listening to your favourite record, something to distract you from the suitcase you were packing. Since the fight you hadn’t heard from Tommy, the first thing you’d packed had been your phone, pulling it off the wall as soon as you got home, not wanting to be on edge waiting for his call.

You didn’t allow yourself the time to wallow, refused to let yourself be beaten up by the words he had said, the ones that hung around your head like dead files. You hated that you let him speak to you that way, and you also hated that you missed him with every bone in your body.

Lilac, sapphire and emerald green. You threw your clothes together, watching the colours fade into a blur. You hadn’t packed anything he had given you, but you didn’t want to throw them out either and so they sat in a lonely purgatory in your wardrobe; a little gift to the next tenant.

You knew who was there the second the doorbell rang. Well, rang three times. The sound so shrill and violent that you tipped your head back in frustration. You considered leaving him outside in the summer rain, but soon the rings were switched with incessant knocking, your door surely about to break from the weight of his fists.

“Fucking hell.” You seethed, dropping your shoes onto the floor and stepping over the piles of toiletries stacked in the hallway. “Fuck you, Tom.”

You wanted to say those three words to him as soon as you opened the door, hoping your eyes reflected the anger bubbling inside of you, but he cut you off with a sigh of relief.

“Thank fuck you’re still here.”

“Not for long.”

You tried to shut the door, you really did, but he pushed past and into your flat with little effort.

“Get out, Tom. Now.”

He spun round to face you, and you finally got a good look at him. He looked rough, frazzled almost. His hair messy and his shirt ruffled and his eyes were mostly white, frantically watching your face.

“I fucked up. I fucked everything up.”

“You came all this way just to tell me that?”

“I should have followed you sooner. I should have followed you the second you walked through that door.”

You quirked an eyebrow in challenge. “Which time?”

He spread his hands out, biting down on his tongue. “Don’t go. Don’t leave.”

You sighed, kicking a stray shampoo bottle with your feet, something to fill the emptiness that surrounded you. “I’ve made up my mind.”

He moved one step closer and you moved one step back. “Is this what you really want?”

“We can’t always get what we want.”

“That’s bullshit.”

You threw your hands up in despair. “I’m not doing this with you now, Tommy. My train leaves in an hour and I have my first day tomorrow and I don’t want to fuck it all up.”

“If it’s what you really want, then you should go. But don’t leave if it’s all because of me.”

You scoffed. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself.”

“And I’m not going to let you go without telling you that I love you. I really fucking love you.”

“Tommy.” It’s a warning. It’s a threat. But it hangs between you both, lingering in the air like smoke.

“I know you love me too. I know you do. I also know that I’m a massive twat who fucked everything up, but I’m not letting you get away, not again.”

You're exasperated. His words like honey, but you’re scared that that’s all they are, and you’re more scared that they might be so much more. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because I’m telling the truth. I don’t care about anything. Nothing matters to me more than you. I don’t care if Sabini has men outside my house every fucking night, you’re only safe with me, and I can only do this with you by my side.”

“Talk is cheap.”

“If I have to spend every day proving how much you mean to me then I will. I can’t - I can’t be without you.”

He was so close to you. Your noses almost touching, the hair on your arms and your spine sticking up, something electric about him. You want to hate him but you can’t. Not when he’s standing in your dimly lit hallway, looking dishevelled and beautiful and dare you say, broken. The edge of his jawline caught the light, shimmering like a jewel, and the pools in his eyes were so sincere and so deeply blue that you wanted to fall right into them.

Were you going to do this? Were you going to let him in again? You thought of everything - rain splattered kisses, dancing under the pale moonlight, sour whisky in the corner of his office. You thought of all of the chaos, all of the blood, all of the family arguments and shouting that echoed around his manor. You thought of all the tears you had shed, all the times your throat had been raw and your heart shattered into pieces. You thought of strawberry fields and his hand in yours, laughing with his brothers until you couldn’t breathe, the way that he felt and smelt and spoke like home.

It had been bad, but it was also the best thing you had ever been a part of.

You sighed loudly, clicking your tongue, meeting him somewhere in the middle. “Fuck. I’m never going to get my deposit back.”

His whole body trembled, relief coming from every pore, and he made a vow to go to Church with Pol on Sunday and thank whoever was listening for getting you back. “Well you’re moving in with me so there’s nothing to worry about.”

You rolled your eyes, his large hands wrapping around your jaw, making you look at him. He smelt like woodsmoke and peppermint, like a million bad decisions and the tang of a smoking barrel. It took everything in you to not buckle at the knees and let him carry you like a child.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He cradled your face, hoping his words came off as strongly out loud as they did in his head. He’s not going to fuck up again, but even he can’t stop his brain from short circuiting at the sight of you, so pretty with your doe eyes and raspberry lips, the skin on your throat just begging for the tug of his teeth.

You buried your head in his chest when he pulled you close, your words muffled through the cotton of his shirt. “If you ever speak to me like that again I’ll rip your fucking balls off.”

A soft smile, one that washes over him like warm candlelight. “I know.”

He’s not letting you go, not again. You’re a fucking part of him, like the blood that runs through his veins and the steady thump of his chest, you’re a part of his body, the reason why he can breathe and run and love. You’re the thing that stops the tremor in his hands, the thing that makes him so unshakeable, so tough and in control.

He had something to fight for.

And only knowing that you’re by his side, safe and warm and pressed into the crook of his body, does he finally allow himself to exhale.

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