#i miss the pub…… so bad…….. Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[skyburger]

i love reading things set in countries that i'm knowledgeable and/or have been to because i can point out really minor errors in fanfiction. i think the average american does not know that in england (and apparently some of asia! which i only just found out) there are switches on power outlets so you can just turn it off instead of unplugging it. like 9 times out of 10 that won't come up but on the off chance it does i'm like ohoho. this clown has never been to england...! my favorite part though is watching americans (specifically americans because i swear to god people who speak english as a second language and/or are from any other country have some idea of what it's like to have an accent / personally know people who have accents? idk) try to write british accents like it is REALLY funny. i literally only lived their for five years and i never picked up a full accent myself (certain words and tones i did but they're mostly gone after living in the states again for a few years) but between living there and having a ridiculous amount of family there & visiting them often (like once a year if im lucky) i like KNOW what british accents sound like. i think some americans genuinely dont even know theres more than one or two english accents i think some people think there's like posh english and chav english and nothing else. maybe scottish accent gets thrown in there if they remember the uk is not in fact just england. i would bet real money they've never heard a welsh accent. anyway my point is it's really funny watching people who don't know as much as i do write this stuff. like i see it and i understand how doctors read this and go Oh that is so medically inaccurate. i get them now. anyway i dont remember what my point here was but please know if you are attempting to write a british accent. reddit and youtube are your best friends if you don't have a british friend you can ask and also rest assured even if you do ONE google search. it will not be the worst attempt ive seen guaranteed

[specshroom]

*°~There are many benefits to being a mage~°*

Includes: Fem reader x male orc, size kink, "human fetish", friends to more?

In which: Orc with a big problem confides in his mage friend who decides to help him out with a useful spell~🪄

You've been in this town for quite a while now, almost 3 years. That wasn't the original plan but It just so happened that this seaside town was more welcoming than many places you've been to on your travels. It sits at the coast of two major trade routes, connecting people of many different walks of life.

The friendliness and diversity you experienced allowed you to make a few friends you might not have otherwise.

Like the one you're sharing breakfast with right now. His name is Grimmok and he's the self-proclaimed, "Best fisherman in this damn town". He's your typical young, burley orc.

The first time you met him was in the local pub, you were intrigued when a crowd formed infront of the huge orc. He was dramatically telling one of his fisherman's tales and the small crowd hung onto his every word. He was a very good story teller and you happened to be very interested in folklore and myths. You made a habit of just walking up to him, if he didn't look busy and asking him to tell you a story. Soon it wasn't uncommon to see you sitting on the docks listening and writing intently as he waxes on about some old wives tale while repairing his nets.

Now you sit in his home, eating breakfast while he grumbles on about having to train a new fishing boy.

"The boy gets distracted by the smallest things, every time someone even resembling female walks past the docks he's panting like a dog." Grimmok bites into his ridiculously large breakfast sandwich signaling the end of his rant.

He did look more grumpy than usual when he opened the door to let you in for your weekly Sunday breakfast. His shoulder length black hair was tied into a hasty half up half down bun and his stubble looked more scruffy than usual. You can only huff in amusement at his troubles.

"Cmon, don't be too harsh on the kid. You did the same thing with Rosie Cotton, remember?"

The orc stills and huffs indignantly, scratching at his neck. This makes you grin.

"Mhm, you'd be telling me a story and then just stop in the middle of a sentence. I'd look up and sure enough there's Miss Rosie walking on by. Fiery hair flowing in the wind, cleavage spilling out her dress, swaying those hips and-"

Grimmok interrupts your overdramatic musing by flicking your pointy hat off your head.

"Hey!"

"You're acting like you didn't like looking at her too." The big guy grumbles almost like a child. He wipes his hands on his plaid pajama pants and picks up his empty plate, heading towards the sink.

You lean down to pick your hat off the floor, dust it off and mumble,

"Yeah, but I never got to bed her."

The dishes in the sink clatter a little too loudly as he tenses up. You hardly try to stifle your laugh.

"We didn't actually...she was...too small... For me to...." The orc struggles out as he wipes his plate clean.

It's quiet for a minute until you ask.

"But she did try, right? I'm pretty sure that counts, Grim."

The orc just grumbles something unintelligible. You want to sympathise with the poor guy but imagining Rosie Cotton, a "short stack" type of woman, trying to fit his massive green cock in her little pussy was pretty erotic.

"I want to feel bad for you mate but you kind of bring this on yourself. You obviously have a bit of a human fetish."

"It's not a-" The orc goes to defend himself but stops and just sighs when he realises it's no use.

"...and a size kink to boot." You mumble with toast in your mouth.

"I can't help it if I think horny humans trying desperately to take my cock is literally the hottest thing to me!" Grimmok finally lets the dam of sexual frustration burst after you've done a sufficient amount of poking at it. You always were good at getting him to actually talk about his problems.

"But the problem comes in when I actually have to fuck them, they can barely take half! How am I supposed to fuck them!? I'm too big! I'd kill them!"

You can't help but choke on your toast as a cackle forces itself from your throat. "Sorry. I'm sorry!" You struggle between snorts. Your big green friend just stands there with a grimace, arms crossed as he waits for you to finish.

You sigh and wipe your watering eyes. "Well, I'm glad you've confided in me because now I can help you." You wipe your hands clean and stand up from the orc sized table.

"You know that cool thing I can do with my hat?" You take your hat off and reach inside of it, the magic pocket space allowing you to reach your whole arm inside of it when you physically shouldn't be able to.

He nods sceptically still leaning against the sink, a bit concerned about where this is going. He thought by "help" you meant like you were going to pep talk him or something.

"We just have to do this but with...." You gesture down to your crotch.

Grim stands there, mouth slightly agape, blinking at you.

"I mean it's not exactly the same obviously." You pull your trusty spell book out of the hat before placing it back on your head while the pages of the spell book fly open to the page you want. "You basically draw this sigil on someone and then they'll be able to take whatever they can push inside no matter how big. Girth might still be an issue though..."

You explain this to him like you've explained many other spells, like you're reading him a recipe, deliberating what ingredients would work best. He doesn't even know how to react honestly.

"You're serious?"

You clap the book shut and adjust your hat on your head, smugly shrugging,

"This is what I do."

The poor guy just stumbles in disbelief.

"Magic, I mean.... Magic is what I do." You correct yourself a bit awkwardly and clear your throat, regaining your confidence.

"It's a pretty easy spell so we can try this whenever you want really."

"We?"

"Alright! Alright."

"Well yeah, unless you want me to go up to Rosie Cotton and say "Hey love, you mind if I put this sigil on your womb so my friend can finally pound your tight little-"

Grimmok rubs his face with his hands, sighing again and looking unsure. You lean against the sink next to him, barely coming up to his pecs.

"Look, it'll just be a one time thing so you can actually see if human pussy's all that and if you like it, I'm sure we can find plenty of humans who would love to try it out."

"...Alright. That sounds good."

You give a slap to his thick bicep and an encouraging "ata boy."

"and if you don't like this one, I'm sure I could find a spell that'll just make you..." He doesn't miss how you glance down at his crotch. "Smaller."

He huffs and pushes your shoulder playfully, he liked how you could always joke away the tension in any given situation. You walk up to the big wooden chair you were sitting at a second ago and pull it away from the table so that it's facing outward, struggling a bit as it's very much orc sized like most things in his house.

"Cmon. Sit."

You pat the chair, looking at him expectantly.

"Now?"

He's really not used to other people being so forward especially not when it's his mate. You shrug at him.

"Why not? I mean we can wait till you're ready, I don't mind. I have literally all day."

You put your hands behind your back and rock on your feet as you both just stand in his kitchen for about a minute...waiting. He eventually huffs and steels himself, fully committing to the idea and walking over to plop himself in the chair. He's going to put his dick inside one of his best mates.

You place your hat on the table so it doesn't get in the way of your activity and step in front of him. You levitate your spell book In front of you, looking down at the page with the sigil that's way more familiar than you're letting on.

"Okay, I'll face this way so it's less....personal." You turn around so your back is facing him. "You do still need to take off your pants though."

He smacks his teeth, "I figured that." He mumbles, pushing his soft pajama pants down to his mid thighs, immediately freeing his cock as he wasn't wearing underwear. He leaves his white long sleeve on, the sleeves folded to his elbows, giving you a perfect tease of his thick strong arms and multiple tattoos. When he looks back at you and sees that you've already disappeared your pants, he quickly looks away.

Sensing his nervousness you ask with a softer voice than before,

"can I sit?"

He clears his throat before grumbling a "Yeah."

You gently lean down and sit your naked ass onto his lap, legs open wide over his own you can see his half hard cock laying between his legs but try not to stare. Obviously Grimmock is a big guy but he's even big by orc standards so of course his cock is massive even when he isn't fully hard.

Grimmock clears his throat and jolts you out of your thoughts. You adjust a bit on top of him feeling his happy trail against your lower back. Your eyes skim the page levitating in front of you, when you finally find the incantation passage you straighten up and start chanting the ancient words in the text. Your eyes glow and the air feels static, Grim has seen magic before but the novelty never truly wears off.

An intricate shape starts to form right above your pubic bone, where your womb would be. The sigil glows brightly on your skin as Grim peers from above your head to look at it. At first glance he thinks it looks a bit demonic but then remembers he doesn't know anything about magic and decides not to mention it. When the sigil is complete you clap the book shut, immediately cutting off the static energy in the room and startling him in the process.

"That should do it."

You place the book on the table and lean back against his clothed chest, feeling the tension in his body not letting up.

"Damn, I can't believe little Miss Rosie took half of this. What a lass."

Your joke lightens the mood once again as Grimmock scoffs at you. Feeling him relax, you bring your hand down to finally touch the wetness that's been growing for awhile now. "We should still do some prep before you put it in. Is that alright?"

He nods and watches your hand disappear between your thighs. You readjust so that your boot clad feet are on either side of the chair rests. Opening yourself up to the air and to him, he can see you've already got two fingers pushing inside. He hesitates before reaching for his cock and slowly starting to stroke himself under you but it was painfully clear he was holding back.

"I know I'm not as short or.... endowed as Miss Cotton but I could put on a red wig if you'd like."

Grim huffed a laugh at the mental image of that.

"Oh wow~ Grimmie, you're soooo big and strong~"

You say in a high pitched voice (that doesn't sound anything like Rosie Cotton), using her embarrassing pet name while looking up at him and batting your eyelashes dramatically.

Grim scoffs and holds his hand over your mouth "Stop playing around." He tries to sound serious but his smile and the grumble in his chest betrays him. You laugh against his hand holding his wrist. You slowly pull his hand off your mouth and inch it gradually down your body giving him ample time to pull away. He doesn't and you move his hand to rub against your wet pussy ever so gently.

You're both looking into each other's eyes, this was not supposed to be so intimate but it doesn't look like he minds when he takes charge and slowly eases two fingers inside your aching pussy. His thick fingers stretch your pussy so good as you lightly buck into his hand, greedy pussy already hungry for more. The way he's looking down at you with so much need gets you so hot inside. A heat that only increases when he starts pumping his fingers in and out. Grim works you open with one hand and pumps his fat cock with the other.

This entire situation has you pent up and impatient so you pull his hand away and sit up, "I can take it now." He can't help but groan at your words but remains concerned at the perceived lack of prep. Whenever he fools around with humans most of the engagement is spent just doing prep so he's more than a little worried, "Are you sure?"

You don't reply as you gently take his fully hard cock from his hand, holding it up against your stomach to see how far inside you this thing could go. You both groan at the comparison between his ridiculously massive dick and your body, he reaches way past your belly button and into your stomach. Definitely more than a human could safely take. You adjust your legs so that you're almost squatting on his lap, your feet plant on the seat on either side of his hips.

You support yourself with your hand resting on the seat between his legs and lift yourself so you can rub your wetness along the length of his cock. He brings his rough hands to hold your hips gently, not applying pressure but just resting there so he can have something to hold.

You lift yourself up until his tip is in-line with your entrance, slowly rubbing it against your clit. You both groan lightly when the tip pops in and you slowly ease yourself down his cock. He's amazed at how easy your cunt swallows him. You pause half way down to adjust and give a few pumps to the rest of him before your hand leaves his cock to settle next to your other hand on the chair in front of you. He squeezes your hips a little in silent concern and you smile before easing the rest of him in, gently descending until you reach the hilt. Your pubes kiss his and he can't help but let out a weak moan at the sight and feeling of you taking all of him. Finally feeling tight walls grip the entire length of his cock has him reeling. You're overwhelmed as well, It's been a while since you've taken someone this big.

You slowly circle your hips around so that you really feel his cock against your walls deep inside you, you're obviously very pleased with yourself. Grim is seeing stars, eyes shut, head tilted back, trying to regain himself even a little while his literal dreams are coming true.

"Well, we know it works. I guess that's it then." You move to lift yourself off his cock as if your work is done.

"Nononono, Please no. Please."

Comes Grim's hasty but soft displeasure, both his thick arms circle around your waist to keep you in place as he leans against your back, head resting on your shoulder.

"What's the matter big guy?" You lean into his chest, stroke his arm and turn your head to look at him. He huffs, you know exactly what's the matter. He takes a deep breath and lifts his head to look at you.

"I need you."

Your heart jumps in your chest.

"I need you to fuck me...please."

You look up at him, wide eyes, mouth agape as he looks back down at you. The moment is almost sweet until your mouth forms into an evil grin and you snicker softly, a dreadfully familiar mischievous glint in your eyes. Grim closes his eyes and almost regrets all the choices that lead him here.

"Riiight~. I almost forgot, this is probably the first time you've actually been able to fuck someone sooo much smaller than you."

"Poor guy, you must be so pent up, huh?"

You reach down to gently hold his massive ballsack, making him suck in a breath and twitch his thighs.

All he can do is let out a choked moan of your name which only makes you chuckle.

"I can really play the part for you, if you'd like. Y'know the, "Ah, your so deep!" and "You're filling this human pussy up so good!""

You laugh when you feel his dick twitch. Poor Grim can only grip your waist and try to keep his hot face from getting hotter. He looks down at you with pleading eyes and you decide you're not so evil after all. You pat his arms and move them so he's holding your waist. He startles a little when you playfully kiss him on the cheek.

"I've got you big guy."

You lean forward again with your feet under you and start to lift yourself up very slowly until the top of his cock is juuust about to pop out. Your thighs burn as you stay there for a few seconds, teasing Grim and yourself. Grim thinks he might actually cry if you don't move.

Suddenly you grip the edge of the chair and force yourself down hard on his cock, taking him all the way to the hilt in one hard thrust. You both groan very loudly, he downright yelps with the sudden movement. You grip the chair and clench around him so hard he can't help the way he grips your waist tightly. One hand covers his mouth as he tips his head back and tries to not cum immediately. He tries to regain his breathing but you have other plans. You can feel him twitch inside you and a desperate need to be filled engulfs you.

You start thrusting up and down on his dick, moving your whole body up and down his length. It's a good thing he can't see your face because you are enjoying this way too much. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you bite your lip, the sensation of being filled to the literal brim is intoxicating. You work yourself and him so diligently, it's no time before your thrusts become more frantic and you're right at the peak. With one final deliberate thrust you cum hard around him, clenching and unclenching like you're trying to milk him dry.

You both moan freely now, though his are more like growls. Your pulsing walls quickly lead him to his own climax, holding you close to his chest and thrusting up into your cunt, spilling hot seed deep inside your womb. You shake and squirm even more with the blissful feeling of your walls being coated with his spend.

After a few moments of you two spasming and twitching you eventually ease up and fall limply against his chest, adjusting your thighs to rest on top of his again. You breathe out a long sigh and bask in the fullness of your cunt, stroking your stomach up and down.

You're blissfully unaware of the knowing smirk that grows on his face. He cards his fingers through his hair, composing himself a little more. His warm hand joins yours in caressing up and down the expanse of your stomach and chest, loving how small you feel in his hold.

"You've done this before." His voice comes out in a low growl that makes you shiver, not expecting it. You crane your head up to see him smirking down at you and all you can do is sit and stare. He chuckles deeply,

"There ain't no way, this is your first time taking a cock this size."

You stumble for words but none come out. His hands caress your thighs and one hand comes up to gently hold your jaw. He leans down really close to your face.

"You're a size queen."

You suck in a breath and your pussy clenches involuntarily around his cock which you only noticed now hasn't gone down at all. Grim laughs louder this time.

"I should've known the second you pulled out that spellbook."

You sit there, quite embarrassed at being caught. You smack his hand away from your waist.

"Shut up, you're the one with the-"

"Yes, we both know about my kinks, you teased me about it enough which is very hypocritical of you."

Grim is just loving the way you fluster and fumble for words right now.

"Oh, so you don't have a thing for inhumanly huge cock?"

He challenges and uses both his hands to bring your naked thighs to your chest, exposing your pussy, leaking with his seed.

"So you don't like the way I stretch and fill this little human pussy?"

You can't help but whine at his dirty words and the position he's binding you into. His cock adjusting inside of you, hitting a new spot.

"If you don't, I guess I could just pull out and-"

"Nonononono... Grim Cmon."

You frantically babble your disagreement, shaking your head. He chuckles again, very pleased with himself at turning the tables on you but thankfully for you he's not as evil as you are and his dick is still painfully hard.

"Alright Darlin, I'll take care of you."

He lifts himself from the chair, leaving a puddle of both of you when he stands. He comforts your whines when he pulls out to set you ass up on the table and just stands at the edge, one hand on his hip and the other leisurely stroking his cock.

You look back at him with confusion, expecting him to just fuck you over the table already.

"If you ask nicely."

He says looking real smug, you sigh in defeat and turn your body so that you're facing him. You disappear the rest of your clothes, leaving you stark naked on the large kitchen table you were just eating breakfast at. That realisation makes him pump his cock harder.

You press your knees as close to your chest as possible and bring your hands down to your puffy, leaking pussy. You spread your folds for him with your fingers and say, as sexily as you can manage.

"Please fuck me Grim."

Grim is so fucking floored, he's cursing himself for not thinking of doing this sooner. He sighs and pumps his cock harder, lining the leaking tip up to your pussy lips. He eases it inside and the new position makes for a new sensation for both of you as different spots are brushed and tension melts away. Once he's balls deep again he gently worms his arm underneath your back to lift you up with ease. You wrap your arms around his neck for support being mindful not to pull his hair. Suddenly you're face to face, looking into his eyes for the first time since you started.

You look into his dark eyes and they relax you, this is your best friend, you trust him. His eyes leave yours to stare at your parted lips. When he sees that familiar quirk on your lips he looks back to your eyes, catching the mischievous glint. You lean closer so that your noses are just brushing against eachother. You feel his breath hitch when your lips meet his. He spares no time getting into it and moves his lips against yours. You make out while he adjusts your body in his hold, one hand on your ass and the other on your waist.

He then, without warning, lifts you up and brings you down hard thrusting the whole length of his cock into you in one hearty thrust. You break from the sloppy kiss for a moment to groan out in absolute ecstasy, loving the way he takes the lead from you effortlessly. He brings down your whole body to meet his upwards thrusts. The way he's basically using your entire body like a fleshlight makes you embarrassingly horny.

It feels like it's been years since you were fucked like this, the way your body is reacting, so sensitive you're sure you could cum again any minute. This is exasperated greatly when he brings you closer to his chest with one arm locked around you so that he can worm his other hand in-between you two and rub at your engorged clit.

You grab at his wrist as he frantically works you to your climax, you basically scream when you finally reach that high. Clenching and shaking on his cock while he holds you up with his buff arms. You cling into him so tightly, getting drool on his shirt. You even squirt a little, getting your wetness all over his cock and the floor. Your intense climax once again has him reeling. The sight of you clinging onto him, squirting and losing yourself on his cock makes his balls clench painfully as his frantic thrusts turn faster and sloppier. He reaches his climax as he holds you close, groaning into your neck, pumping another thick load deep into you.

You both stay like that for a while, coming down from your respective highs. Your fingers slowly unclench from his shirt moving down to lazily caress his chest, feeling it move with his breaths as you rest your head on his shoulder.

He slowly manoeuvres your legs so he can sit back down on the chair, holding you to his chest. His hand strokes down your back as you both soak in the warm, tranquil after glow. His breathing evens out to a steady rhythm and your eyes flutter closed.

Knock knock knock

You both jolt awake and stare at each other wide eyed and then at the front door, which is very much visible from the kitchen. You both stay quiet and he holds you closer to hide your fully naked body if the rude intruder somehow manages to break the door down.

Knock knock knock

"Uhh Mr Grimmock Sir?"

The tension in Grim's body sags when he hears who's on the other side of the door. A hand goes to massage his impending migraine.

"BOY! What do you want?!"

You can imagine the way the poor fishing boy cringes at the anger in Grim's voice.

"Sorry Sir, I was wondering if you could give me some extra lessons on the boat?"

Grim growls in frustration, you chuckle in amusement and start kissing up his neck which settles him down a little.

"Tomorrow lad, it's Sunday."

"But I was-"

"Tomorrow."

The finality in his tone seems to get through to the young man as he mutters an "Alright Sir, see you then." Before walking off, his steps getting lighter and lighter.

"He doesn't want to work all week but suddenly he wants to work on Sunday?!"

Grim's irritation is clear as he gestures to the door incredulously. You can't help but laugh at the orcs misfortune. You settle your arms around his broad shoulders, one hand playing with his hair as his hand begins to stroke down your back again.

"Thank you for...helping out"

He says, quite genuinely.

"Anytime."

You throw him a thumbs up and he has to laugh and shake his head at the award winning nonchalance. When the amusement fades though he leans forward in the chair and brings his hands lower to cup your ass cheeks.

"Anytime?"

You can feel his soft cock gradually hardening inside your pussy and you look up at him in utter disbelief.

"Unbelievable."

You shake your head and chastise him but the smile that breaks on your face rats you put. He grins and lifts you up, walking out of the kitchen. His mouth marks up your neck and his stubble tickles, dull tusks dig into the sensitive skin.

"Just unbelievable."

You mutter to yourself again as your legs hug around his waist tighter and you feel his cum dripping out of your hole, leaving a trail all the way to his bedroom.

[boowritess]

very mild 18+ simon riley x reader

lmaoo i can't breathe Simon Riley is just a man.

atleast to you.

when he's home, all he is to you is dry humor, a couple beers every night, sat in front of the tv on his spot on the couch, the game is playing - some soccor or rugby match. he doesn't wear his mask, his clothes are a simple t-shirt and some pair of shorts he just threw on.

he uses your shampoo and conditioner, as much as it pisses you off because it's expensive and for some reason he uses half the fucking bottle everytime he's home, but when he does the groceries he still comes home with '2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner' he would’ve got the '3 in 1' but the last time he did that he got no head for 3 weeks.

he'll go to the pub, take you out, pushes the trolley, holds your bag, let's you dress how you want it, belly gets a little soft because he eats food like he's never ate before, buy you anything you want even after the 'do you really need it though?' talk.

he's bit lazy on workouts only goes on the occasional run, but will fuck you whenever you want; always vanilla and only gets rough when you ask.

he will say he'll fix whatever appliance needs tending too but won't do it right away, starts the occasional handyman job at odd times.

it's just - he's so mundane and normal that you'd never know just how dangerous he is ???? like he so carefully hides that side from you. seriously. when he's home, he throws his gear in the bottom of his closet in a box, locking Ghost away and just existing as Simon.

even when the rest of the task force come around on the occasion. they're so normal and are just... men. yelling at the tv during a sport match. teasing each other. stealing snacks and helping with cleaning. they never speak about work and when you ask them, it's always a smile and shrug, "just another day really." "little boring and slow." "oh not too bad." their answers are so half-assed, that you don't even ask anymore; which is what they want.

but you really aren't missing anything. not when you don't even know what you're missing out on.

it's crazy, because he even keeps Ghost hidden when you're being harassed by men. whether that be when you're shopping or just going for a walk.

he'll loop an arm around your waist or over your shoulder, look at the guy with a grin - that's more of a sneer, "can i help you, mate?" he'll drawl. his stature and stare is enough to make the man who had been harassing you back off.

"what a freak..." you mutter with a roll of your eyes, letting Simon guide you away as he presses a kiss to your temple, a deep chuckle leaving him.

around midnight you wake up to Simon in the laundry room washing his hands. he doesn't blink or hesitate when you wonder in and wrap your arms around his waist. "what're you doing?" you mumble, sleepy eyss dropping to the sink.

Simon's hands are red, and you would be alarmed, should be alarmed. but how could you when Simon hums softly, a sound that rumbles deep from his throat, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. he's so warm and casual that you don't even do a touble take seeing the blood.

"caught a rat. right pest they are. the trap i set snapped it clean in half." Simon's mutters, he raises a bloodied hand to you, sniggering when you crinkle your nose up in disgust and step away from him.

"ew, i'm going back to bed." you huff, yawning and leaving him to what he was doing.

Simon laughs softly as you head off. "just be a sec, love." he says as you go. all he receives is a yawn and a tired 'mhm'.

he cleans his hands and then his phone chimes. he pulls it out and it's a private message.

'getting rid of your pest now, LT.'

image attached

Simon opens the picture and sure enough there's the man from earlier in the boot of a car. all bloodied like Ghost left him.

Simon heads back upstairs to your shared room, you quietly snoozing away. you don't steer or wake as the closet door opens and Simon's putting his mask back in with his gear. No. Ghost is too quiet to let you wake from such a warm and sweet sleep.

he turns from the closet after putting everything away and changing clothes. he crawls into his side of the bed and wraps his arms around you. letting your body nestle back into his side. limbs tangling together.

just you and your simon.

a/n: inspired by a tik tok video on how he is just a man lmaooo

[wzrd-wheezes]

Smitten - James Potter x Reader

AN - Here's a little James fluff that I wrote and completely forgot about lol. Enjoy <3.

He’s smitten. Completely and irrevocably captivated. One glance from her and the world shifts on its axis. When she smiles, his imagination soars and his brain is all white doves and champagne toasts.  

Her laugh isn’t just a sound. It’s church bells on a spring afternoon. He’s not a religious man, but for her, he’d build a cathedral with his bare hands and worship at her altar forever. A simple curve of her lips and he’s envisioning vows under a canopy of twinkling lights, her name being the only prayer he’ll ever need. 

Pathetic. That’s what he tells himself when her hand brushes his. The fleeting touch sparking fireworks he swears other people could see if they looked close enough. In his mind’s eye, he’s already down on one knee, slipping a pretty ring onto her finger. He doesn’t even know her that well yet, but one thing he knows for sure: he’s done for. 

This isn’t like anything he’s ever felt. He’s dated before – flirted, kissed, even thought he’d loved once – but none of that prepared him for this. His heart races, his palms sweat, his cheeks flush whenever she’s near. 

“Mate, you’ve got it bad.” Sirius drawled, taking a long sip of his beer, “I’ve never seen anyone go full Romeo like this before.” 

“Romeo wrote poetry. I’m not writing poetry.” James shot back, leaning against the table. 

“Yet.” Sirius quipped, “Give it a week. You’ll be sitting in your room scribbling odes to her in your journal.” 

“That’s Moony’s thing, not mine.” James teased, raising his glass in mock toast towards Remus. 

Remus raised an unimpressed eyebrow but didn’t miss a beat, sticking two fingers up at James and rolling his eyes, “At least I have the self-respect to not get googly-eyed over someone I’ve spoken to, what? Twice?” 

“Three times.” James corrected automatically, only to wince when his friends dissolved into laughter. 

“You fall in love quicker than Sirius can down a pint.” Remus quipped, clearly enjoying himself. 

“So, when’s the wedding?” Sirius tormented, “or have you not planned it yet? Here, Moony, do you think Prongs is a spring wedding guy, or more of an autumn kind of thing?” 

“Spring.” Remus replied dryly, “Flowers blooming. Birds chirping. All very poetic.”  

“Obviously, there’ll be doves,” Sirius added, gesturing grandly as if arranging the scene. 

“Maybe throw in a harpist for good measure,” Remus suggested, deadpan. 

James groaned and dropped his head into his hands, “You two are insufferable-” He froze, mid-protest, his groan dying in his throat as the sound of laughter drifted across the pub. It wasn’t loud or dramatic, but the soft sound hit him square in the chest. 

 She was here. 

Of course she was. The universe had an impeccable sense of irony. 

Sirius, ever observant, followed James’s line of sight and grinned like the Cheshire Cat, “Oh, would you look at that.” He said, far too loudly for James’s liking. 

“Keep your voice down!” he hissed, “Shit. What’s she doing here?” 

Sirius and Remus exchanged a shifty glance with each other and Sirius took a slow sip from his pint, his grin growing more smug by the second.  

“You bastards!” James gasped, realisation dawning on him, “You knew she was going to be here! I thought it was weird that you picked this pub and not the Broomsticks!” 

Remus snorted, his mouth splitting into a cocky smile as he nodded. Maybe the universe wasn’t cruel, but his friends sure were.  

“Guilty as charged.” Remus sniggered. 

“Yep.” Sirius replied, popping the ‘p’, “Mary mentioned that they were coming here tonight. Thought you could do with a little push in the right direction.”  

“You planned this?”  James said incredulously, “You’ve been conspiring behind my back!” 

“More like wingmanning really,” Remus shrugged, “You go on about her all the time Prongsy. We were just... facilitating the inevitable.”  

“Right, and what was the grand plan?” James pretended to look annoyed but his heart was racing a little, “I’m supposed to just walk up to her now and –what? Spill my heart out?” 

Sirius quirked an eyebrow, “If you want to. Or you could just start with ‘Hello’. You know, like a normal bloke.”  

“Or go and buy her a drink.” Remus drained the last drop of his beer and waved the empty glass in James’s face, “It’s your round anyway.” he winked. 

James hesitated, glancing across the room to where she stood. 

“Fine.” He muttered, raking a hand through his hair, “but if this goes sideways then I’m blaming you.” 

Sirius grinned, “Oh, it’ll go brilliantly. Go get her, Romeo.” 

Okay, Potter. Play it cool. Don’t trip. Definitely don’t trip. 

James’s heart hammered in his chest as he crossed the pub, the hum of chatter and clinking glasses fading into the background. All he could focus on her- and the pounding in his chest. She looked so effortlessly radiant, standing with Mary and Lily, a drink in her hand.  

Just say hello. He told himself. It wasn’t hard. Two syllables. Completely manageable.  

When her reached their table, she turned, her smile softening when she saw him. “James, hey! I didn’t expect to see you here.”  

Step one: complete. She remembers your name. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting, leaning casually against the table. Or at least, what he hoped looked like casually. 

“Hey. Yeah, funny coincidence, huh? Was just on my way to the bar when I saw you guys. Thought I’d come and say hello.” 

From across the room, Sirius fake coughed something that sounded suspiciously close to “liar!”. James ignored him, focusing entirely on her. As always. 

“Are you out with Sirius and Remus?” Mary asked, smiling at him knowingly. 

“Sat planning their next scheme I assume?” Lily grinned.  

“Probably.” James tried to slyly wipe his clammy palms on his jeans, “I’ve learned not to ask questions.”  

“Smart man.” Y/N smiled softly, “So, are you here to escape them?” 

“Something like that.” the tightness in his chest eased a little, “I’m just heading to get a drink. Do you want anything?” he directed the question towards her. 

“Oh, I'll come with you.” She said, standing up, “It’s my round anyway.” 

He barely managed to keep his face neutral as she fell into step beside him, the warmth of her presence making his brain short circuit.  

“So,” she said, glancing at him as they approached the bar, “Did Sirius and Remus drag you here, or was this your idea?” 

He hesitated for a second, scared that he’d been caught red handed. He could like, pretend this was all a coincidence, but something about the casual way that she asked made him think that she’s just making conversation. She doesn’t know. She can't know. She has no idea how often she’s occupied his thoughts, how ridiculous he’s been about her. 

“They had opinions of the venue,” he settled on, trying to keep his tone light, “Remus often drags us here – cheaper pints and all that.”  

She hummed, considering his answer and then picked up the menu, “So, what’s your usual?” 

James blinked. “My what?” 

“Your usual drink,” she clarified, throwing him a bemused look, “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those blokes who just orders whatever.” 

“Absolutely not.” James lied. 

Y/N narrowed her eyes playfully, “You so are.” 

James shrugged, trying not to look thrown off, “I like to keep things interesting.” 

“Yeah?” she said, clearly unconvinced, “So what are you ordering then”? 

He opened his mouth to speak before realising that he doesn’t actually care what he drinks. He couldn’t order a beer, could he? That was far too predictable. A cocktail maybe? Then, to his horror, he blurted out, “What are you getting?” 

She lifted an amused eyebrow, “What, are you going to copy me?” 

“No,” James scoffed, as it that would be ridiculous, “I’m just... curious. Looking for inspiration.” 

She pursed her lips a little, scanning the selection of bottles behind the bar, “I was thinking a rum and coke.” 

“Excellent choice.” James said, as if he had any thoughts on rum and coke whatsoever. 

“That’s what you’re getting, isn’t it?” her lips twitched into a smile. 

He gestured vaguely, “I mean, if I happen to want the same thing-”  

She laughed, shaking her head as she places their order. James exhales, wondering if this conversation is going as awfully as it feels, but she seems relaxed, like this is normal.  

Which for her, it probably is. She doesn’t know. 

“You didn’t properly answer my question earlier.” she turned back to him. 

“Which one?” 

“Why this pub?” she tilted her head, “You guys are always at the Broomsticks.” 

Shit. Shit. 

“Oh, are you stalking me now?” he teased, “Change of scenery I guess.” 

She hummed again, clearly not buying it, but before she can dig deeper, the bartender returns with their drinks.  

James latched onto the distraction like a lifeline as he paid.  

“Cheers,” he said, lifting his glass. 

She clinked her against his, smiling easily, “Cheers, Potter.” 

His name sounds too good when she says it.  

When he returned to the table, Sirius is grinning like he knows exactly what’s going on.  

James pointedly doesn’t look at him. 

She doesn’t know.  

And maybe, for now, that’s for the best. 

“You’re gone, mate.” Sirius smirks. 

“Completely gone.” Remus agrees. 

“Yeah, I know.” 

[jmflowers]

Swarla Kisses Rated [x]

1. "Don't get dressed." (22nd November 2024)

The loud noise that occurred at the moment this kiss aired was the sound of an entire population's proverbial panties dropping. Has there ever been a hotter line spoken? This is the power-necking the soap community taught us about. Swarla started off SO strong it's frankly terrifying. 14/10 Carla knew what she wanted.

2. "Have you?" (29th November 2024)

When the most confident dyke on the cobbles asks you if you've changed your mind about your feelings for her, you are required by law to stubbornly keep your hand on your hip. Even if she pushes your hair back from your face as delicately as humanly possible??? If Lisa Swain ever looked at me like that I would burst into flames. 11/10

3. "Is that better?" (16th December 2024)

We reached the domesticity era of their love in 0.2 seconds flat and I for one am not upset about it. The way Carla nuzzles in? The tilt of Lisa's head? The repetition? I was not expecting more kisses so soon in their story. The only way this could've gotten better is if they'd eaten each other's faces after this had been a clearer angle. 7/10 Carla Connor saying, “I want you.” plays on loop in my head at all times.

4. "Mmm... truffley." (20th December 2024)

The prolonged eye contact???? The dazed look on Lisa's face immediately after?? The fucking giggles???? The sheer power Carla Connor has and wields for good (ie. my own entertainment). Coronation Street said y'all deserve this. 10/10 Carla can hand feed me any day of the week.

5. "See you later." (20th December 2024)

Have you ever seen anyone look so peaceful about a decision before? Carla Connor said, "Today's the day I kiss my girlfriend in the street." I know y'all were waiting for that Live Sally Reaction and it did not disappoint. I hope they kiss each other goodbye constantly forever. 6/10 The way she analyzed Lisa's entire face before leaning forward made me scream both internally and externally.

6. New Year's Countdown (31st December 2024)

If you thought I wouldn't lose my mind over the image of them off in a corner of the pub in their own little world, you were wrong. I need to know if this was a scripting choice, an acting choice, or an editing choice for reasons. I'm never going to get sick of the way Lisa pulls Carla closer by the shoulders (almost) every time they kiss. Lisa closing her eyes like that makes my heart stop beating. 8/10

7. "Ooh, your lip!" (31st December 2024)

You ever just get aggressively snogged by a woman who's falling in love with you (while your lip is busted open from fighting bad guys)? Superheroes really don't get days off but they do get the girl. I miss the power-necking (literally a month ago?!?), but this was still so cute. 9/10 for the sheer fact that Carla needed a New Year's like this considering she dies like 12 hours later.

8. "Won't take that long." (31st December 2024)

Carla Connor isn't the only one who nearly fainted shortly after this kiss. Lisa said let me flutter my drunk eyelashes at you. The way Carla opened her mouth?? The breathy, "Shall we go to bed?" from Lisa??? The fucking forehead lean???? I am too goddamn gay for this to be on my screen. How did we get a month into this relationship and already reach 8 kiss scenes? 10/10 thanks Coronation Street for the gay rights.

9. "Please don't leave me here." (1st January 2025)

The fact that Lisa could walk away from Carla in this moment is frankly mind-blowing; her face is the same colour as Betsy's shirt. Lisa, woman, OPEN YOUR DAMN EYES. Someone said Carla looks like she died 3 hours ago and they're not wrong. 3/10 because I'm a sucker for the domestic nature of this but also I want to punch everyone in the face for not protecting our sick baby. Gold star for the Corrie makeup department and their highlighter collection.

10. "Are we okay?" (8th January 2025)

Lisa Swain's affectionate eye roll immediately after Bobby interrupted them is like 1/1000th of how we all really felt. She lingered on this kiss for so long. The hand coming up to cup Carla's head? The forehead lean again? Carla's little smile when she realized what was about to happen? Give these ladies a room that isn't in hospital or full of their children. 9/10 we're watching f/f hurt/comfort fanfiction live on ITV.

11. Comforting Hand (9th January 2025)

We're deep in the trenches of this hurt/comfort storyline now, kids. I hope Lisa plans on sitting vigil at Carla's bedside for the rest of their damn lives (yes I'm wearing my clown makeup while I watch this soap). 4/10 because my self-deprecating baby pulled away from the love and support she deserves.

12. Good Luck (13th January 2025)

As far as kisses go, this barely passes the test, but THEY ARE FAMILY. Carla, proper bricking it. Betsy, also bricking it. Good thing Lisa Swain swooped in to wish her wife girlfriend good luck with the most vanilla cheek peck known to man. Someone get them a room and a dialysis machine whirring to drown out all their kids, stat! 5/10 cause I respect the domesticity.

13. "We'll make it happen either way." (17th January 2025)

At the precise moment that Carla Connor's head settled in against Lisa Swain's shoulder and her eyes closed and she smiled that little smile while Lisa declared them a 'we', my heart officially stopped beating and I passed away. Rating this soft head kiss an 8/10 from the grave because (whatever entity you believe is on the other side) agreed with me: that's the Connor-Swain family!

14. "I'm not scared. I'm not." (20th January 2025)

Carla Connor is absolutely not scared. And she absolutely did not inch forward slightly so that Lisa could be the one to decide to hold her and make her feel safe. Absolutely none of that happened. I'm going to forever be soft about all these forehead kisses and collapsing-into-each-other hugs. Rating this a 9/10 for the utter loving, vulnerability of it all. Now, go make sweet love about it!

15. "Ugh, in my dreams." (5th February 2025)

DOMESTICITY ERA IS A GO. They greet each other with kisses, y'all. We're really in it now... we've made it! Coronation Street said have all the vanilla lip pecks you desire, cause they live together. 7/10 Because all I'm really thinking about is them staying up all night in the glow of the dialysis machine making sweet love.

16. "...the best possible future I could imagine." (5th February 2025)

Lisa Swain: Certified Softy said I'm gonna stick by you so hard, Carla Connor. Through sickness and in lunch break. I'm obsessed with how committed she gets to these hand and forehead kisses; how long she hovers on the moment, making eye contact, making sure Carla knows what she means. 8/10 This is what love looks like.

17. "Just introducing myself." (10th February 2025)

Listen, I know y'all went feral for this show of dominance kiss (and it was really such a dyke power move), but this had literally nothing to do with Carla and everything to do with Lisa and Rob's dick-measuring contest. Carla didn't even close her eyes. Do we know if she consents to public displays of affection in front of her estranged, murdering little brother and his prison guard? Grab your pitchforks cause I'm giving this a 2/10

18. "...I want him fit enough for the transplant." (10th February 2025)

Lisa really said, "I know who your brother is now, but I'm still soft for you," and we respect her for that. Even if Carla in this moment thinks she literally doesn't care. Can you hear the cogs turning in her head, Carla? Let a woman scheme. Rating this a 5/10 cause she's got a Carla-shaped space in her arms and I'm mush about it even when they're too focused on kidney transplants to kiss sloppy-style.

19. "Oh, I love you. Thank you." (12th February 2025)

A barely audible "I love you"?!?!?! I nearly didn't believe it myself. But if anything warrants such a declaration, it's Lisa running Carla a bath. This whole scene was so domestic and life-partner-coded that I could implode just thinking about it. 7/10 cause there's hands and whispering and that's like gay kryptonite.

20. "You're gonna be here when I get back..." (14th February 2025)

The arm grab. The reciprocal I love yous. The fact that they're STARING INTO EACH OTHER'S EYES AS THEY KISS. Listen, I am a weak woman and this kiss nearly took me out. Not that unlike how Mandy took Carla out of the hospital like 24 hours later. 8/10 cause I'm about ready to propose on their behalves.

21. "You tryna get away without a little kissy?" (12th March 2025)

Carla Connor certified fucking loser when it comes to Lisa Swain. Honestly, she could've said anything and that's really what she chose. But then she yanked Lisa to her by the neck and hummed through the entire thing and I very momentarily stopped dreaming about the day they'll kiss like it's November 2024 again. 8/10

22. "We can't keep around Betsy 24/7, lovey, can we?" (17 March 2025)

The pat on Lisa’s head moments before this kiss occurs will live rent-free in my mind for all eternity. Carla Connor said, “down, girl.” I’m just over here thinking about the weeks of Lisa comforting Carla with head and hand kisses and how Carla is now returning the favour. It’s about balance, folks. 7/10 for the sheer number of places they’re physically connected in this scene.

23. "Well, that's your department, missus." (17 March 2025)

Lisa Swain popped like a damn balloon with one touch from Carla Connor. You know when you’re cuddling with someone you love and you’re suddenly so exhausted because you’re so at peace? That’s this moment to me - even if Lisa’s brain is still positively swirling with stress and Carla’s is run rampant with guilt. They’re safe together and that makes this kiss pure. 6/10 for the way Lisa’s eyes close and her little smile appears.

24. "I shot my own daughter." (26 March 2025)

Thank goodness for this camera and this lens, but fuck this angle. How am I supposed to dissect kisses for ratings when I can’t even see them, Corrie?!?!? Carla’s first response to Lisa’s confession being to pull her closer makes me feel so many things all at once. They really said they’re a team, y’all. 3/10 cause I’m not heartless, I just want some words with the director and DP and editor of this episode.

25. "Tantrums and hormonal breakdowns?" (28 March 2025)

It’s so gay of them to have lasted all of 12 hours in a fight before they were collapsing into each others’ arms, crying and professing their love. I’d like the look of relief and exhaustion and peace on Lisa’s face in this moment tattooed on the inside of my eyelids so I can look at it while I try to sleep. 7/10 cause I need all of their scenes shot Big Brother style for my sanity.

26. "...we can get through anything." (28 March 2025)

There’s a vine somewhere that makes the exact squeeeeing noise that’s been playing on loop in my head since the moment this kiss aired. The fucking sound of them kissing! The eyelashes, the tears, the l o o k i n g. The SNIFFLE. 9/10 I never expect to be as gay as I am about them, and then moments like this occur and a god damn pride flag pops out of my mouth.

27. "Come 'ere." (28 March 2025)

Thank GOD Alison King is a soap queen who knows how to work those camera angles for her own coverage. I’m sick with the Sappho from the way Lisa looks up at Carla as she is pulled into this kiss/hug combo. They’re so everything I could literally die. Bury me beneath the cobbles, Corrie; I’m here until the end of this couple. 8/10

[briefinquiries]

Under the Blood Moon | Peaky Blinders | Chapter 7

Tommy Shelby x Reader : Chapter 7

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Fic Summary: You came to Birmingham for a fresh start, to bury the past and keep your head down. As a former nurse in the war, you’ve seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime. But fate (and the Shelby’s) have other plans. After stitching Tommy Shelby back together, you find yourself drawn further into their world, a world of violence, loyalty, and power. When Tommy offers you a job, it comes with more than just good pay, it comes with expectations and lines you never planned to cross.

Chapter summary: After an unsettling night at the Garrison, you begin to understand that Tommy Shelby’s bad moods are rarely without reason. When a familiar face confronts you outside the pub, you realize you’ve drawn the attention of someone dangerous. Forced to tread carefully, you play your part, but the encounter leaves you with more questions than answers.

Word count: 7k

Warnings: Violence, injury, mentions of blood, gore, and open wounds, brief PTSD and war flashbacks, alcohol use, and mild language.

--

The party was still in full swing when you slipped out the back door– the warmth and noise of the Garrison fading as soon as it swung shut behind you.

Your boots clicked softly against the damp pavement as you started walking. 

Your hands were still trembling. You clenched your fists, trying to shake it off. But the weight of Tommy’s words, the sharp, cutting way he had looked at you, like you were an inconvenience, a problem that needed to be corrected, still clung to your skin like an ugly bruise.

The thing was… you hadn’t even fucked up. At least, you didn’t think you had. Arthur took a swig of the whiskey you’d poured him right there at the bar– he even toasted to you. 

But even if you had given Arthur the wrong whiskey, did that really warrant a public dressing-down? 

Harry had taken one look at you after Tommy stormed off, muttered something about “Fuckin’ Shelby moods” and told you to take the rest of the night off.

You hadn’t argued.

You didn’t want to be there anymore, didn’t want to stand behind that bar and pretend everything was fine when the weight of Tommy’s words still sat heavy in your chest.

So you left.

And now, as the damp night air curled around you, you tried to shake off the feeling of humiliation still burning beneath your skin.

You were so caught up in your own head that you almost didn’t notice the figure stepping out from the shadows ahead of you.

Your breath hitched slightly, your pace slowing on instinct.

The man was standing just off to the side of the road, hands clasped behind his back, posture upright and intentional. Not a drunk stumbling home. Not a lost traveler.

He had been waiting.

And when he took a step forward, the dim light of a nearby lamp caught his face– Your stomach twisted.

You knew him.

The same man from the market, who had slipped into the Garrison without being noticed. 

Your pulse picked up, and you forced your expression into something neutral.

He offered a polite, almost cordial smile. “Evening, Miss.”

You swallowed, shifting your weight slightly. “Can I help you?”

His head tilted slightly. “I hope you can.”

Your brows furrowed. 

He stepped forward again, slow and measured. “I couldn’t help but notice you at the Garrison tonight. You’re new there, aren’t you?”

Your stomach tightened, but you kept your expression even. “Been there a few weeks.”

He hummed, like that was something of interest to him. “And before that?”

Your spine stiffened slightly.

You hesitated for only a second before responding, voice careful. “Before that, I wasn’t working for the Shelbys, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The man’s smirk was brief, but pointed. “Is that so?”

You exhaled, crossing your arms. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you’re asking, Mr…” your voice trailed off as you waited for him to offer his name.

He did, though not without a small, knowing smile. “Campbell.”

You swallowed. “And what exactly do you do, Mr. Campbell?”

Campbell studied you for a long moment, then gave you another one of those polite, curt smiles. “I look into things.”

Your pulse jumped, but you kept your expression neutral.

Campbell took another slow step forward, hands still clasped behind his back, posture as stiff and calculated as his words. “And tell me,” he continued, voice smooth, almost pleasant, “what exactly have you seen in your time working for the Shelbys?”

“I pour drinks,” you said simply. “I wipe down the bar. I keep the books when Harry needs an extra hand.” You tilted your head slightly, feigning confusion. “Is there something specific you’re hoping I’ve seen?”

Campbell exhaled sharply through his nose, the ghost of amusement flickering across his face. “Come now, Miss. I think we both know that the Shelbys deal in more than just whiskey.”

Your stomach twisted, a slow coil of unease, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You met his gaze, willing your expression to remain impassive despite the prickle of sweat at the nape of your neck. You couldn’t let him see you waver. Couldn’t let him pick apart the cracks in your carefully constructed armor.

“I know Mr. Shelby keeps horses,” you said evenly.

Campbell’s smile was slow, condescending. “Yes, and the devil wears his Sunday best, but we both know what he really is.” He took a step closer, the air between you growing thick with unspoken threats. “I’ll ask you again– what do you know about their business?”

Your jaw tightened. Tommy had been a right bastard earlier, cold and cutting as ever, but still, there was something in you, some irrational, unshakable instinct, that made you want to protect him. Protect all of them. The Shelbys had a way of pulling you into their storm and making you feel like you belonged there, even when you knew better. Even when it was dangerous. Even when Tommy made it impossible to forget that you were expendable to him, that he could push you away whenever it suited him.

And yet, here you were, standing in front of Campbell, lying through your teeth for a man who just berated you in front of the entire pub.

“I wouldn’t know,” you replied evenly. “They don’t exactly tell the barmaid their business, funny enough.”

Campbell’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t let his irritation show. Not yet. “Do they talk about the horses?” he asked.

That, at least, was an easy answer.

“Yes.” You nodded, careful to keep your expression neutral. “They’re betting men. Own a few racers.”

Campbell tilted his head slightly. “That all?”

You shrugged. “That’s all I know.”

He let the silence stretch between you, his sharp eyes watching, searching. You didn’t waver.

Finally, he gave you a small, unreadable smile.

“Very well,” he murmured. “I appreciate your time. Goodnight, Miss.”

You forced yourself to offer a polite nod. You didn’t thank him. Instead, you turned on your heel, before walking away at an even pace. Not too fast. Not too slow. And the entire time, you felt his gaze lingering on you.

Watching.

Waiting.

You couldn’t get home fast enough. Your heart was still racing by the time you reached your front door, breath uneven, pulse thudding in your ears. You fumbled with the key for a moment before finally shoving the door open, stepping inside and shutting it firmly behind you, twisting the lock into place.

Then, for what felt like the first time since leaving the Garrison, you exhaled.

Your mind raced, replaying every second of the encounter with Campbell, dissecting every word, every shift in his expression. 

Who the hell was he?

You had no idea if he was police, if he was working for someone else, if he was just another enemy in whatever war the Shelbys were waging. But the way he had questioned you, the way he had watched you, searched you, made your skin crawl.

Then, as if on command, your mind flickered back to the bar, to the way Tommy had stood too close, his voice cutting sharp as a blade.

The words had cracked like a whip, dragging everyone’s attention to you whether they wanted it or not. Because it wasn’t just what he had said. It was the way he had said it– like you were foolish, like you were insignificant, like you hadn’t earned your place in their world despite everything you had done to prove otherwise.

You shook off the thought, pushing your coat from your shoulders and setting it on the hook. Your hands were still shaking slightly as you moved through your usual nighttime routine, lighting a candle and placing it on the small table near the window.

You needed to calm down.

You moved through the motions, grounding yourself in ritual– setting out a glass of water, washing your hands, brushing the dust from the windowsill. Little things. Familiar things. 

Tea. Candlelight. Wash the day away. You reminded yourself. 

But then–

Bang.

A fierce knock at the door.

Your stomach twisted.

Your eyes flickered toward the candle, the only source of light in the room, the flame dancing wildly from the sudden jolt of sound.

Another knock. Harder this time.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to move.

Slowly, cautiously, you approached the door, wondering if you should even entertain asking who was there. What if Mr. Campbell had more questions that you couldn’t answer? 

Just before you reached for the handle– 

A voice, low and familiar, rang out. “Open the door.”

You hesitated for only a second before undoing the lock and pulling the door open.

Tommy Shelby stood on your doorstep, coat damp from the lingering mist in the air, eyes sharp, unreadable.

His gaze flickered over you, scanning your face, before settling on your wide-eyed expression.

His jaw tightened.

“What did Campbell want with you?”

Before you could even offer a response, Tommy pushed his way inside.

You stepped back on instinct, barely catching the door before it could slam into the wall. He moved past you without hesitation, shaking off his coat and tossing his flat cap onto the nearest chair.

You stared at him, still gripping the edge of the door, your pulse racing from the way he had stormed in like he owned the place.

“What–” You swallowed, trying to steady yourself. “What the hell are you doing?”

Tommy exhaled sharply through his nose, ignoring your question completely. His jaw was clenched so tight you thought it might crack.

“What did he ask you?” he demanded, still pacing. “What did he say?”

You hesitated, your fingers twitching at your sides.

“Who is he?” you asked instead, your voice careful, despite the tangle of emotions raging inside of you. 

Tommy stopped pacing just long enough to pin you with a sharp, cold stare. “He’s a problem,” he muttered. Then, after a beat, “And I need to know exactly what he said to you.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, but the weight of the entire day was pressing down on you. 

You were so tired.

Tired of being snapped at. Tired of being humiliated in front of an entire pub. Tired of Tommy Shelby acting like you were a problem one second and something worth his time the next.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you exhaled slowly, trying to push past the sting in your chest.

“He asked how long I’ve been working at the Garrison,” you said, voice quieter than before. “Asked what I know about your business.”

Tommy’s eyes darkened. “And?”

You lifted your chin slightly, fighting to keep your emotions in check. “And I told him the truth. That I know nothing. That you deal with horses. That’s it.”

Tommy watched you closely, like he was picking apart your words, searching for something unsaid. “Did he ask you anything else?” 

You opened your mouth to answer, but Tommy cut you off before you could get a single word out.

“Did he mention any names?”

You frowned. “No, but–”

“Did he threaten you?”

Your frustration spiked. “No–”

“Did you–”

“Jesus Christ, will you let me fucking talk?” The words exploded from you before you could stop them, your voice sharp, breaking through the tight space between you.

Tommy’s mouth snapped shut.

You could feel the heat behind your eyes, the sting of everything, the exhaustion, the frustration, the way he had been so cruel– only an hour ago, and spent the past week pushing you away, only to show up at your door demanding answers like you owed him something.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, your voice raw when you finally spoke again.

“I am so fucking tired of you talking at me.” Your hands trembled as you jabbed a finger toward him. “You either ignore me or snap at me or decide when I’m worth speaking to, and I am–” you exhaled sharply, shaking your head, “I am so done trying to figure out what the hell I did to piss you off.” 

Tommy didn't speak right away. Instead, he just stood there, watching you, his eyes dark and unreadable, his breath coming a little heavier than before. You hated that silence. That cold, infuriating patience of his.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply through his nose. "You didn’t do anything."

You let out a hollow laugh, disbelieving. "Really? Because you’ve spent the last week acting like I did."

Tommy inhaled slowly, dragging a hand over his face, before exhaling just as deliberately. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, lower, more measured than before. “I was trying to keep any of this from happening.”

Your breath was still uneven, your chest still tight from everything that had boiled over moments ago. “What are you talking about?”

Tommy didn’t answer right away. He rolled his shoulders, almost like he was trying to shake something off before meeting your gaze again, calmer now. “Campbell’s got his eye on us– on me. He’s looking for any reason to dig deeper. The last thing I needed was for him to think you had anything to do with our world.”

Your brows pulled together. “I don’t have anything to do with your world.”

Tommy’s expression didn’t change. “You patched up James.”

Your brows furrowed. “And?”

Tommy let out a slow, measured breath, watching you carefully. “James isn’t… he isn’t just a Blinder,” he explained. “He’s wanted. By Campbell.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. “Wanted for what?”

Tommy exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “He’s been running jobs for me. Big ones. Campbell’s been after him for months.”

You swallowed hard, something cold settling in your chest. “So Campbell knows?”

“He knows someone patched him up. I think he’s making connections.” Tommy’s voice was steady, but there was an edge to it now. Tommy must have seen the panic in your face because his expression shifted, his voice lowering. “Listen to me.”

You met his eyes, the steel in them keeping you from unraveling completely.

“I know what Campbell’s capable of,” he said, his voice even but firm. “Because I work with him.”

You blinked. “What?”

Tommy’s jaw tightened.

“I don't have a choice,” he said. “He has leverage. Things he can use to break us. So, I play his game.” His gaze flickered, as if the memories had sharp edges. “I do what I need to do to keep the family safe. To keep them alive. Campbell’s the kind of man who doesn’t let go of things,” Tommy continued. “Not grudges. Not power. If he thinks he can use you, he will. If he thinks you’re in his way…” His voice trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish.

Tommy watched you for a moment before speaking. “I think he’s trying to figure out where you fit into all of this.”

Your stomach twisted painfully.

“I didn’t want you anywhere near this,” he said, and for the first time since he’d stormed through your door, his voice didn’t carry that usual edge of control– it almost sounded like he meant it. “I thought… if he saw me talk to you like you were just a barmaid, he might actually think that was true.”

“So you humiliated me on purpose.” You huffed a humorless laugh, crossing your arms. 

Tommy’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t look away. He didn’t deny it. “I needed Campbell to think you were nothing,” he said plainly, voice low. “That you weren’t involved, that you didn’t matter to any of this.”

“Well, congratulations. You did a hell of a job making me feel like I was nothing.”

His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t immediately reply. 

You took a step back, exhaling through your nose. “Christ, you could have told me.”

“I thought it would look more genuine if you didn't know.”

“You don’t get to treat me like that! Like I’m some disposable piece of shit you found on the street,” you snapped, voice raw with emotion. “Like I’m just another thing to be used when it suits you and tossed aside when it doesn’t. I’ve spent the last week trying to figure out what I did wrong,” you went on, your voice rising. “One minute, you walk me home– act like you give a damn, and the next, you’re humiliating me in front of a bar full of people. Acting like I’m some incompetent idiot you barely tolerate to hang around.”

Tommy held your gaze, steady and unwavering. “I do give a damn,” he sighed, voice lower now, rougher. “More than I should. That’s why I did it. You weren’t supposed to get involved… not like this. You were supposed to stay on the outside of all this.”

You froze, blinking at him, your breath still heavy, your pulse still thrumming in your ears. Finally, you let out a slow, uneven breath, your anger slowly fading. “Well, it’s a bit late for that, don’t you think? I mean, you don’t get to treat me like that, Tommy. You don’t get to decide when I matter and when I don’t. I’m here– I stitched up James, I just lied through my teeth to Campbell. I'm pretty far from the bloody outside. But I know what I bloody signed up for. So stop using me like a pawn in your little game without at least giving me the courtesy of telling me about it, first.”

His expression didn’t shift, but something in his eyes flickered. You knew he was used to control, to making all the choices, to moving people around like chess pieces without them even realizing it.

Tommy exhaled slowly, cigarette still balanced between his fingers. His sharp gaze flickered over your face, his jaw tightening just slightly, like he was weighing his options, deciding what move to make next.

Then, after a long pause, he simply said, "Okay."

You blinked. "What?"

Tommy sighed, rolling his shoulders as if this conversation had worn him out. "Okay," he repeated. 

Your arms stayed crossed tightly over your chest, your pulse still thrumming in your ears. "That easy?" you asked, suspicion creeping into your voice. 

Tommy exhaled another slow drag of smoke, tilting his head slightly. "Would you prefer I argue with you about it?"

You let out a short, humorless laugh. "I’d prefer you actually mean it."

Tommy’s brows pulled together slightly. "I do."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Forgive me for not entirely believing you, but you just spent the last week acting like I was worse than the scum under your shoe. And now, what? You just say okay?" Your voice was sharp, unwavering. 

His jaw tightened, but this time, you saw it– the flicker of something in his eyes, something unguarded, something that told you he wasn’t as composed as he wanted you to think.

You huffed a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "You’re such a bastard."

His lips twitched, his face unreadable. “Aye. That I am.”

You gazed at him skeptically, slightly taken aback by his submissive stance to the situation. Tommy Shelby didn’t strike you as the type of person to admit he was wrong. And the fact that he was doing exactly that… in his own way, made the armor in your chest soften the slightest bit. 

Tommy shifted slightly, rolling his shoulders, his cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. He glanced away for a brief moment, exhaling smoke, before his gaze flickered back to you. Then, finally, he sighed. "Look, if it helps… We run racecourses– legal ones and the kind that aren't. That’s where the real money is."

Your breath hitched slightly. You'd known there was more to their dealings, but hearing him say it out loud? It made it real.

Tommy continued. "We take protection money from businesses that want to keep their windows intact. We run bets. Move goods. Some of it’s clean. Some of it’s not." He tilted his head slightly. "Campbell wants to make it sound worse than it is. But you’re clever enough to know that corruption runs in every part of this city– including the ones he works for."

You searched his face, trying to make sense of this version of Tommy Shelby– the man who wasn’t arguing, who wasn’t pushing for control. "Why tell me all this now?"

His jaw clenched slightly, and for a second, you thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then, his voice came low, rough. "Because I don’t want you looking at me like that."

Your brows pulled together. "Like what?"

He inhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "Like I broke something I can’t fix."

Your throat felt tight, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. 

Tommy watched you carefully, measuring your reaction. "Look, if you’re in, you have to trust me," he said. "That’s the only way this works. But I want you to know the kind of fight you’re walking into. As well as the kind of men Campbell answers to."

You exhaled slowly, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. "And what kind of men are they?"

Tommy’s expression darkened, his blue eyes turning to ice. "The kind that don’t leave loose ends."

He took a step closer, his voice quieter but no less firm. "Campbell isn’t just after me. He’s after control. He wants to crush the Blinders and make an example out of anyone who stands in his way." He paused, jaw tightening. "That includes you now."

You held his gaze, searching for any sign of deception, any hint that this was just another manipulation. But all you saw was truth. Hard, unflinching truth.

The worst part was– you believed him. 

You sighed. “I had a whole speech prepared– Reasons why you should tell me more… reasons why you should let me help.”  

A brief flicker of amusement, gone as quickly as it had appeared, flashed across his face. He took another slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling smoke into the dimly lit room. “That so?” he murmured, voice low, steady. “Well, by all means, let’s hear it.”

You exhaled, shaking your head, your arms still folded tightly across your chest. The tension between you had thinned, but it wasn’t entirely gone– still lingering beneath the surface like embers that hadn’t quite burned out.

“That’s alright,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “I think I’ll save it.”

Tommy arched a brow, waiting.

“I never know when you’re going to start acting like a bastard again. I might need it later.”

That time, he exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head as he flicked the ash from his cigarette. “Right,” he muttered dryly. "If you do save it, make it a good one."

You let out a small, tired chuckle, though the exhaustion still clung to you. “I will.”

His lips twitched, just barely.

"Does that mean you’re finally going to be honest with me?" you dared to ask. 

His jaw tightened, and for a long moment, he simply looked at you– measuring, considering.

Tommy inhaled slowly, letting the silence stretch between you, his sharp gaze locked onto yours. "Yeah," he murmured. "Suppose it does." 

Tommy’s gaze flickered over your face, searching, waiting for hesitation, for regret. "You stay now, there’s no running away later,” he said. 

Your breath was tight in your chest, but your voice was firm when you finally spoke. "I wasn’t planning on running."

For a second, something in his face shifted. Not surprise, but something else. Something almost like... admiration.

Then, just like that, the flicker was gone, replaced by that cool, unreadable expression again.

Tommy nodded once, slow and deliberate. "Alright. Get some rest, then."

You hesitated for just a second, watching him walk towards the door. He didn’t say it like a suggestion. He said it like a command. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Shelby,” you replied. 

You caught the way he paused at that, the way his cigarette lingered between his fingers, his head tilting just slightly.

Then, after a beat, he said, “Stop calling me that.”

You lifted your brows in amusement. “What?”

Tommy sighed, “Anyone brave enough to call me a bastard to my face can call me by my first name.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “Alright then,” you said, voice quieter now. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

His lips twitched again– just slightly, but it was there.

“Goodnight,” he murmured. 

…

You had spent the next few days turning over your last conversation with Tommy, picking apart his words, the way his voice had softened, just barely, when he admitted you weren’t nothing to him. The way he had let you in, even if only a fraction.

True to form, he hadn’t mentioned it again. He hadn’t tried to explain himself further or reassure you. He had simply gone on being Tommy– stoic, calculating, always one step ahead of the rest of the world.

But something had shifted.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know him. But you did, or at least, you were beginning to.

He still kept his distance, still carried that sharp edge of authority wherever he went, but there were moments– fleeting, barely-there moments, where you caught him watching you like he was waiting for something. Like he was measuring this new version of your place in his world.

And while he hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to make things easier, you hadn’t missed the change in how others treated you, either.

No more cold shoulders. No more skeptical glances. 

It started small– checking the books, keeping an eye on deliveries, noticing when numbers didn’t add up, but it had grown into something else entirely. Now, you weren’t just counting crates of whiskey; you were keeping tabs on who came and went, who talked too much, who looked nervous when Tommy’s name was mentioned. You had learned that a missing shipment wasn’t just a mistake, it was a message. That a man running his mouth about the Blinders one night often ended up with a bruised face the next. Tommy hadn’t sat you down and explained the rules of his world, he had let you figure them out on your own. And the worst part? You had. You weren’t just a barmaid anymore, not really.

You knew it. And so did Tommy.

And now, as you wiped down the last of the glasses in the near-empty Garrison, you felt it again– the weight of something hanging in the air.

You glanced up just in time to see Tommy approaching, his movements slow and deliberate. His coat was already off, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows– like he had settled in, like he had time.

That was rare.

He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned against the counter, reaching for the glass you had just cleaned. He turned it over in his hands, running his thumb along the rim, his expression unreadable.

You exhaled sharply, crossing your arms. "Alright. What is it?"

Tommy arched a brow, finally looking up at you. "What?"

"You never just... sit," you said, nodding toward him. "Not unless there’s a reason."

His lips twitched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he tapped a cigarette from his pack, lighting it with a slow drag before speaking.

"I need you to do something for me," he said, exhaling smoke into the low-lit room.

…

Later that night, the Garrison was nearly empty, the low glow of lanterns casting flickering shadows across the bar. You wiped down the counter, letting the hum of the quiet night settle around you. 

Which was why you weren’t surprised when the door creaked open and a new kind of tension settled in your chest.

You didn’t have to look up to know who had walked in.

Mr. Campbell.

His heavy boots echoed against the wooden floor as he approached, a picture of cold confidence in his perfectly pressed suit. He didn’t belong here—not in the way the usual men did. The Blinders carried violence in their hands, but Campbell carried it like a quiet threat beneath his skin.

"Evening, Miss," he greeted smoothly, settling onto a stool in front of you. His voice was controlled, measured.

You forced your grip to stay relaxed around the cloth in your hand, offering him a polite nod. "Mr. Campbell."

He hummed as he pulled off his gloves, setting them neatly on the bar. "I’m looking for Mr. Shelby.”

You nodded, reaching for a glass. "He should be back soon."

Campbell hummed again, slow and thoughtful, like he had all the time in the world. "Then I suppose I’ll wait."

You forced a neutral expression. “Whiskey?” you asked. You waited for him to nod before you poured him a drink. 

The liquid sloshed softly in the glass, the only sound between you as he watched you too closely– assessing, searching for something.

“How have you been enjoying your time here?” he asked. 

The casual question made your pulse tick up, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you shrugged, placing his drink in front of him. "I like it enough.”

Campbell smiled– tight, knowing. "I imagine you see some things."

Before you could respond, the doors to the Garrison swung open, letting in a gust of cold air and the heavy sound of boots against the wooden floor.

Tommy.

He entered with purpose, slow and deliberate, his coat unbuttoned, cigarette already in hand. His gaze swept the room once before locking onto the two of you at the bar.

And something flickered inside you.

It was quick, unexpected. A brief, unsteady jolt in your chest, something that had nothing to do with fear, nothing to do with the plan.

It was the way he carried himself, the quiet authority that demanded attention without needing to ask for it. The way his eyes, sharp, calculating, found yours first, even if only for a second, before flicking to Campbell.

You swallowed hard, shoving whatever this feeling was, down, forcing yourself to keep your posture neutral. 

"Campbell." His voice was flat, unreadable.

Campbell barely turned his head. "Mr. Shelby."

Tommy strode forward, settling beside Campbell at the bar like he had all the time in the world. Like he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see him sitting there.

He glanced at you once– brief and fleeting, before tilting his chin toward the bottle. "Pour me one."

You moved without hesitation, sliding a glass in front of him as he took out his cigarette case. His movements were calm, measured, as he tapped one out and lit it, exhaling smoke through his nose.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Inspector. Campbell?"

Campbell took a slow sip of his whiskey before setting the glass down neatly. "Just checking in. Making sure you remember our… arrangement."

Tommy smirked faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Hard to forget when you keep sniffing around."

The tension stretched between them, coiling tight like a wire about to snap.

Campbell turned slightly, eyeing you again before speaking. "Your barmaid here was just keeping me company."

Tommy exhaled smoke, leaning against the counter with calculated nonchalance. "That right?"

Your stomach twisted, but you stayed steady, busying yourself with straightening bottles.

Campbell hummed again. "It’s a shame, really. Being in a place like this, working for a man like you."

Tommy’s gaze lingered on Campbell for a moment longer before he exhaled a slow stream of smoke, tilting his head slightly. "No sense in talking business out here, eh?" His voice was casual, but the weight behind it was anything but. "Why don’t we step into the back?"

Campbell hummed, swirling the last of his whiskey in his glass. "Lead the way, then."

Tommy nodded, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray before pushing off the barstool. He adjusted his coat, already turning toward the hallway.

That was your cue.

You reached for the glass beside Campbell’s, fingers just slightly unsteady, just careless enough. As Tommy turned, you made a sudden, deliberate movement, just enough to send the full glass of whiskey spilling forward, drenching the front of his shirt and coat.

"Shit!" The exclamation left your mouth before he could react, and you snatched a rag off the counter, reaching toward him in a hurried, useless apology. "Oh, God, I’m so sorry, Mr. Shelby. I–"

Tommy jerked away from your touch sharply, his jaw clenching as he stared down at the spreading stain, his fists twitching like he was deciding whether to hit something or walk away.

When he looked up, his eyes were cold, cutting.

"Fucking useless," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Campbell to hear.

You flinched. Trying to sell it. 

Your hands tightened around the cloth as you stepped back, bowing your head slightly like you were expecting worse.

Tommy scoffed, shaking his head in disgusted dismissal before exhaling sharply, straightening his coat. He turned back to Campbell with a forced smirk, like this was just another inconvenience in a long list of them.

"Apologies, Mr. Campbell. I hate to waste more time, but I’ll need to change."

Campbell chuckled under his breath, casting you a side glance that made your skin crawl. "No need to apologize, Mr. Shelby. I quite enjoy the entertainment."

Tommy didn’t acknowledge Campbell’s remark, just let out a sharp breath, muttering something under his breath before striding toward the back, shoulders tense with barely-contained irritation.

You kept your eyes down as he left, hands still gripping the cloth, still playing the part.

The moment the door swung shut behind him, the air shifted.

Campbell exhaled slowly, leaning back against the bar, stretching out his fingers like he had all the time in the world. "Cruel man, isn’t he?"

You hesitated, just for a second– just enough to make it believable, before shaking your head weakly, giving him the reaction he was looking for. "I spilled a drink on him," Your voice was quieter now, unsteady. “That’s just how Mr. Shelby is.”

Campbell hummed, eyes sharp, calculating. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice like he was sharing some great truth you hadn’t yet realized.

"No, my dear," he said smoothly. "That isn’t just how he is. That’s who he is."

You swallowed hard, fingers twitching around the cloth. "It’s fine."

Campbell’s lips curved into something between a smirk and a sneer. "Ah, you wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what he was truly capable of.”

You hesitated again, just long enough for him to notice. That was what he wanted.

“What’s he capable of?” you asked quietly… weakly. 

Campbell tilted his head to the side daringly. “Things that would give you nightmares, my dear.” His voice softened, becoming almost coaxing. "I’ve seen the way he treats you. Like you’re nothing. Have you ever thought about getting back at a man like Tommy Shelby?"

Your breath hitched.

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his, blinking once, as if the thought had never crossed your mind, until now.

The hook was set.

Now, all you had to do was let him reel you in.

…

The air inside Watery Lane was thick with cigarette smoke and whiskey, the dim glow of the fireplace casting long shadows against the walls. You sat at the worn dining table, the weight of the evening still pressing into your chest as you recounted every detail of your conversation with Campbell.

Arthur let out a sharp bark of laughter, shaking his head as he tipped back a drink. "Christ, love– you're a proper fuckin' spy now, ain't ya?"

You scoffed, shaking your head, but your fingers tightened slightly around your glass uncomfortably. 

Polly, sitting across from you, wasn’t laughing. She had that sharp, knowing look in her eyes, the kind that made you feel like she was peeling back your skin, searching for cracks.

"I don’t like it," she said, voice clipped as she tapped ash from her cigarette. "This game you’re playing with Campbell– it’s dangerous."

Polly flicked her gaze to Tommy. "And you? You’re just lettin’ her walk right into it, aren’t you?"

Tommy, who had been silent up until now, just listening, finally spoke, his voice low, certain, final.

"It’s the best plan we have. This is the only shot we have at getting ahead of Campbell for once." 

A hush settled over the room at that.

You exhaled slowly, your shoulders relaxing just slightly, but not completely. You were still trying to feel like you belonged here.

Arthur, still grinning, smacked his hand against the table. "Reckon we should give you a razor cap next, eh?"

John snorted. "Make her a proper Blinder, aye?"

"Enough!” Polly’s sharp voice cut through the room, instantly silencing John and Arthur’s amusement. She leaned forward, stubbing out her cigarette with more force than necessary, her gaze locking onto Tommy.

"I mean it, Tommy. I don’t like this. It’s too dangerous."

Tommy exhaled slowly, fingers pressing against his temple before he finally met her eyes. "We’ve been over this, Pol."

"And I’ll keep sayin’ it till you listen." Her voice was firm, unwavering. "You’re putting her in the middle of something she has no business being in. You think Campbell won’t see through this? You think he won’t turn it back on her the second he gets the chance?"

Your chest tightened at her words, but you stayed quiet, watching the exchange between them.

Tommy’s jaw tightened. "We’ll handle it, Pol." His voice was calm, but there was an edge beneath it– the kind that meant the conversation was over.

Polly’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t push further. Instead, she turned her gaze to you, her expression softer but still carrying that same weight. "Be careful."

You swallowed, nodding once. "I will."

Tommy leaned back slightly in his chair, letting the tension settle before he sighed, rubbing his temple. "It’s late."

You took that as your cue, standing up. "Right. I should go."

But before you could even push your chair back properly, Tommy stood up as well. He didn’t say anything, just reached for his coat, shrugging it on like it was second nature.

Arthur smirked into his glass. Polly just watched Tommy closely, her fingers laced together on the table. John raised a brow. 

Tommy ignored them all, tilting his head slightly toward the door.

You hesitated before falling into step beside him.

As you moved toward the door, Arthur leaned back in his chair, smirking over the rim of his glass.

"G’night, Doc," he called, amusement laced through his voice. "Try not to get into any more trouble, eh?"

You huffed a quiet breath, shaking your head as you pulled the door open.

Arthur’s chuckle followed you out, but you barely heard it as you stepped into the cold night air.

Tommy was already a step ahead, hands tucked into his coat pockets, his stride easy, unhurried but deliberate.

For a moment, you considered saying something, asking why he kept doing this, why he kept walking with you even when he didn’t have to.

The night air was crisp and quiet, the distant hum of the city settling into the darkness around you. Tommy walked beside you, his steps measured, thoughtful, but there was a weight in the way he carried himself tonight– like something was pressing against his ribs, like he had something to say.

Finally, after a long silence, he exhaled sharply, his breath curling in the cold. "You know this plan is dangerous."

You didn’t hesitate. "I know."

Tommy’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept walking, his gaze fixed ahead. "Campbell isn’t a fool. If he figures out what we’re doing–" He stopped himself, shaking his head slightly.

You swallowed, your fingers flexing inside your coat pockets. "I know."

Tommy scoffed lightly, shaking his head as he took out a cigarette. "He won’t just throw you in a cell and be done with it. He’ll make an example of you."

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers pressing gently against his shoulder, stopping him mid-step.

Tommy’s entire body stilled. The shift in him was immediate, his breathing slowed, his posture tensed, like he wasn’t used to being touched like that. Like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

"I know," you repeated.

Tommy shook his head, muttering something under his breath before looking at you again, his voice lower, more measured. "You don’t know what he’s capable of–”

“You’ve told me." 

Slowly, he looked at you, the sharpness in his expression cracking– just for a second.

You swallowed hard, voice steady. "I know the risks, Tommy."

His lips parted slightly, but you didn’t give him a chance to interrupt.

"And I still want to help."

Tommy’s throat bobbed with a slow swallow, his gaze flickering between your eyes.

You let your hand drop, taking a breath. "I care about your family. About what happens to them. And I care about what happens to you."

His shoulders tensed beneath his coat, his expression shifting.

You weren’t sure what he was thinking, what calculations were running through that sharp mind of his. But after a long moment, he exhaled slowly, turning away slightly, running a hand over his face.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter.

"I wish you didn’t."

 << Previous Chapter

Next Chapter >>

[thoughtwriter]

multitudes [part 2] - a. tv

summary -> your first pub golf and you meet the one and only arthur tv who is infatuated from the moment he lays eyes on you

PART - 1, 2, 3, 4

wc -> 1.1k

masterlist | main masterlist | requests

the next morning came with a headache, two empty water bottles on your nightstand, and three missed dms. the first was from chris.

chrisMD: you’re a menace. flamingo facts live rent-free. next time: pub quidditch.

the second was a video from max fosh - shaky footage of you and arthur mid-“valerie,” yelling into a pub mic like you were auditioning for a sitcom about two people falling in love via amy winehouse.

and the third… was from arthur.

no text. just a selfie. slightly disheveled hair, duvet pulled up to his chest, sleepy grin. and a message quickly following it - still thinking about cube poop and diet-pink birds. brunch?

your heart betrayed you immediately. it did that weird little stutter - like it forgot how to beat for one full second before coming back with a crash.

you met up that afternoon at a tiny place in notting hill he insisted had “the best hash browns this side of london.” he wasn’t wrong. but if you were being honest, you barely tasted them.

because arthur in the daylight was a different kind of disarming.

gone was the pub-haze version: flushed cheeks, alcohol bravado, and silly commentary. in its place was something quieter - more deliberate. his hair still did that annoyingly perfect floppy thing, and his voice was still soft in that way that made everything he said feel just a bit more important.

he sipped his coffee. “so, still full of weird facts?”

you grinned. “always, it’s a condition. completely incurable.”

“tragic. guess i’ll have to stick around and suffer through it.”

“poor you.”

he laughed. but then he set down his fork and leaned forward, elbows on the table like he was about to confess something. the restaurant noise dulled around you, even though you knew it hadn’t actually changed.

“listen, i meant what i said last night.”

you blinked. that could mean several things.

arthur seemed to sense your uncertainty, so he clarified. “about liking you. before. and now. well, even more now.” he scratched the back of his neck like the words itched coming out. “it’s weird, right? one night and suddenly i can’t stop thinking about you.”

your stomach twisted, but not in a bad way. you just weren’t used to someone saying something like that and meaning it - especially not someone like arthur. smart, emotionally fluent, and possibly half-made of charm.

you could’ve made a joke. deflected. but you didn’t want to. not with him.

“it’s not that weird,” you said. “i’ve been thinking about you too.”

there. out. no take-backs.

arthur looked down at his coffee for a beat. then up at you. his gaze sharpened - focused in that quiet, attentive way he did when he was listening not just to what you said, but how you meant it.

“would it be crazy if i said i wanted to get to know you properly?” he asked. “off-camera. no pub golf. no chaos. just… you.”

you smiled. “only slightly. but I’m not particularly sane either.”

“brilliant,” he said, beaming.

that brunch turned into a walk, which turned into a shared playlist, which somehow turned into you guesting on one of arthur’s videos three weeks later.

it wasn’t planned. at least, not by you.

you were just in the background, originally. sitting off to the side while he filmed a lighthearted reacting to terrible tiktok advice bit. but at some point, he turned the camera toward you and asked, “as a certified facts machine, what’s your opinion on this guy’s take that drinking lemon water cures heartbreak?”

you blinked. the camera was rolling. but more importantly, he was looking at you like you were the only person in the room.

so you said something snarky about citric acid and unresolved emotional trauma. arthur laughed so hard he wheezed.

the comments the next day were brutal in the best way.

randomuser1 - sorry but WHY do they have more chemistry than every netflix couple ever?

randomuser2 - arthur’s in love and we’re all just watching it happen like a nature doc

randomuser3 - if they don’t do a podcast or start dating immediately, i will RIOT.

you tried to ignore them. you really did.

but then arthur sent you a screenshot of one with the caption - let’s give the people what they want?

and that was that.

still, not everyone knew. not yet.

you were careful - meeting late, taking back entrances, always arriving and leaving events separately. it wasn’t that you were hiding. you just… wanted to keep it yours a little longer. before the internet tried to rename it and ship it and pick it apart.

but at another ‘youtube gathering’ - this time a chilled game night at willne’s - you forgot to be subtle.

you were sitting on arthur’s lap, his arms loosely draped around your waist as you quietly roasted him for his uno strategy. willne walked by, did a double take, and yelled, “OH, IT’S HAPPENING!”

everyone looked. phones came out. chris shouted something about being best man at the wedding. niko started filming. you were done for.

arthur just smirked and pressed a kiss to your shoulde, “guess we’re public now.”

later that night, the two of you slipped onto the balcony to breathe. the london skyline sparkled beneath you, the kind of fake-romantic that only works when you’re a bit drunk and deeply infatuated.

arthur leaned against the railing beside you, his knuckles brushing yours.

“you know,” he said softly, “that flamingo fact really did it.”

“you laughed. “you’re never letting that go, are you?”

“never. it was the moment. everyone saw it. even me. i just didn’t know how to admit it yet.”

you turned to face him, your smile slow and full. “and now?”

he stepped closer, closing the distance until there was only the buzz of shared breath between you.

“now i’m all in.”

and then he kissed you - soft and sure and entirely off-camera.

something real.

part three out tmr!!

tags - @wherethezoes-at

[endlessxdreams]

The little hints that are easily missed part 2:

1. When Charles said to Declan (I’m paraphrasing because I don’t remember exactly the lines) that he and Rupert are the same, stubborn, workaholics and want their way always winning I feel like it was a for shadowing for the dynamic between Declan & Rupert’s relationship with each other. They are the same person that in another universe they might be the other way around (Rupert married with kids and Declan a playboy). Regarding that, I feel that it was intensionally assigned as a scene to showcase that Declan’s hate was influenced by Tony but also reasonated the reason why Taggie is entangled with Rupert. Electra’ s syndrome where women fall for men that have the same personality as their father. She sees a lot of her father (which she admires) in Rupert. It may be far fetched but hear me out. Maud is a really bad mother to her children, especially Tags, which she is jealous because of her youth and beauty and she calls her retarted and stupid. Declan on the other hand, has a drinking problem, is a workaholic who rarely goes to his house, has anger issues and has been in a weird relationship with his wife (he enjoys other men watching Maud, lusting after her, being desired and sleeping with them) but as a father he loves Taggie (I think she is his favourite because in their house she’s the only person that is not problematic and tries her best to care for them).

2. Declan immediately saw the way way Rupert was watching Taggie at the pub and said “Stay away from Taggie, you’re old enough to be her father”. So if Taggie is 20 years old (in the books she’s 18) that makes Rupert 40 (in the books he’s 38). The dirt he gathered for Rupert and his secret weapon he will use it when he finds out about AngelBlack (I love the ship name, kudos ❤️❤️ to the person that suggested it).

3. The way he calls her “Angel” is his way of seeing the celestial light, she is an innocent creature, full of love, care and compassion for animals, people, her family. She’s an introvert who loves her own space, likes to provide comfort and love to others but also she didn’t choose this role. She’s not the typical 20 year girl. She’s like a mother figure, she takes care of the household, she cooks, she tries to help other people, her father, her sister while at the same time she tries her best to make her life better, to overcome her own difficulties (dyslexia)- As someone who has dyslexia I can assure you that is difficult, I’m lucky in a sense because while it was 20 years ago (I was in first grade) and it was when my teacher noticed and informed my parents, they didn’t dismissed her and they took me to speech and occupational therapists and is not bad (I read-write-think perfectly without a grammar mistake and when I tell people that I have dyslexia they don’t believe me because I’m the devils advocate and they tell me I should be a lawyer because I’m always 5 steps ahead. But I have a terrible ADHD brain disorder and I can’t remember stuff I read a day before and I can’t concentrate to read and understand what I’m reading/I have also a bad anxiety disorder so while I read I can’t get my mind to remember shit and get anxious and start crying and feel like I’m an idiot because I read the same paragraph 15 times to comprehend what I’m reading and wherever how hard you study and you try you always fail miserably). Mind you that this was 20 years ago in Greece which is not a place that people have empathy or tolerance toward someone else being different than them (even some teachers back then didn’t want me in their class or they didn’t want to help me study because they though I was slow and dummy and some of my classmates were the same). Therefore, I love the representation of people with learning disabilities and how difficult is for them to navigate life. And in the 80’s when so little things were known back then. Thus, Taggie is a fallen angel, she pays for other people’s sins, she is a pure sensitive soul, who from a young age she is always puts other people’s needs first, she keeps her distance, doesn’t try to make herself visible to others, doesn’t take space, attention, affection and love (only her siblings love her continuously as we saw at the hug scene of the NYE episode but I feel like the love her like a mother figure and not as a sister). Rupert’s sees all of that, her sacrifices, her fierce nature to others and her willingness and is drawn to her like a dog needs water, he is the devil and she will redeem him from himself. Someone on Tik Tok mentioned that the bedroom scene from the NYE episode was directed to Rupert’s emotional state. He is in a cold place, he doesn’t care about anyone or tries to give this impressions, he doesn’t see his children because his ex wife didn’t want him anywhere near them, he finds comfort between women’s legs but is temporary and he is a shell of himself and his glory days. And as he puts Taggie to sleep and they look at each others eyes, the celestial light shines bright making Rupert feel warmth inside of him, like all his sins will be consumed.

4. From all the people in NYE episode he was the only one that went into the kitchen and told her to relax and have fun, no one other cared to bother to remember that she existed (expect Patrick and Caitlin). He took care of everything that needing to be taken care of, he protected Charle’s photo of panic attacks getting on paper, he payed the DJ’s, cleaned up and went home. Acts of service. He saw Taggie in an fragile emotional state, feeling unlovable, unworthy, unable to cope with all of this pain and wanted to help her. He talked to Freddie and wanted all three of them to make the franchise in order for Taggie to not leave and because she was devastated by her father losing his job, credibility and leave the town she liked for once in her life. Rupert saw all of this. She had the world on her shoulders at such a young age and wanted to make her happy.

5. The line “What if no one ever loves me?” is a parallel to Rupert’s own thoughts. He confessed to never have been in love in Declan’s show.

6. The way that he was jealous of Ralphie and said that she can do so much better than him and watched intensely and wanted to throw hands for hurting her in the worst way, of Seb who took her to the movies meanwhile he was fucking Cameron.

7. He cared about her opinion of him. He doesn’t give a fuck or pretends to to other people’s opinions but with Taggie he’s eager to learn what she feels of him and he starts slowly to unmask himself from his persona. He gave her an egg jewel and not something mainstream which he would get for other women (for example the bracelet). He was pleasantly surprised by the fact that she accepted his apology but not his gift, because he is so used to pay his way into women’s hearts-pants and Taggie returns it. Also I believe that the egg jewel was a personal gift in which he choose himself whereas all the others were picked by the Jewerly stuff or his assistants.

8. He wants her empowered and to speak her mind. In the episode of the killing of the birds which she did the catering, he pursue her to admit that she will not do another catering job for hunting/killing innocent animals.

9. Rupert’s worry of Taggie’s accident and the way they hugged each other, especially him, the realisation that shr could have been dead. He immediately drove the car and Taggie home because she was so upset that she couldn’t drive and when he heard the tape of the directions, he offered both of them to go to the tours around city promoting Venturer.

10. The way that I HATED HIS GUTS/ LOATHED HIM in the first episodes and couldn’t fathom the fact that they’re a ship and slowly we saw him change, yearning and longing for a glimpse of her, like he see his true self come to the surface and be vulnerable when he sees her . As Bas said “crushing like a school girl”. A 40 year old playboy with a lot of issues that wants his partners daughter which he promised that “she’s out of bounds” and everything is complicated, he could loose everything, his money, his house, his position as a minister, Declan, Freddie, Taggie and his entirety of his life. Talk about complicated and difficult.

[doctor-dusk]

𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

a private session, as he said.

warnings: mutual masturbation, fingering (f receiving), exhibitionism and voyeurism.

word count: 3.4k

part 1, part 2

it took me longer than expected. ngl that i've been feeling a bit discouraged and insecure about my writing lately and i've been putting off posting. anyway, hope you like it :3

you haven't stopped talking for a minute since alex got your phone number. like, for hours, going into the early hours of the morning sometimes. 

you found out he lived a few minutes away from you and was a bartender at a night pub, so eventually he had to be absent when he was on his shift. of course you understood, but you couldn't help but miss talking to him when he was away for too long, especially at night. you found yourself looking at his profile picture, or at the photos he sent you throughout the days. 

obviously, at this point you already had a certain level of intimacy, so he didn't see a problem in sending you some kind of spicy photos, for example, after the shower. oh, these were your favorites. you loved his toned muscles glistening with water, the fluffy towel wrapping around his waist, the marked v line. and of course, you loved seeing the outline of his cock in the towel. 

a was a tuesday night. particularly rainy, the wind was not violent and the news reported that it could last until the next day, but that doesn't bother you. you were reading a book peacefully on your bed when you felt your cell phone vibrate under your pillow.

you fumbled around the bed looking for your cell phone, reaching under your pillow to grab the phone, turning on the screen and smiling when you saw that he had sent you a message.

“hi baby, just got back home.’’ he texted you.

you smiled at the nickname. it was already natural for him to call you that, but you still found yourself giggling about it whenever he called you like that.

“did something happen?” you texted him back. he should be working now, since he had said he had a shift at the pub that night.

“the power went out at the pub because of the rain,” he explained in another message after a while. “guess i'll have to go back tomorrow to make up the hours. yay.” 

you chuckled softly. it wasn't like he didn't like his job, he just found it tiring sometimes.

“what are you going to do now?” you asked him. 

“well, for starters, i’m gonna take a shower and eat something.” he answered, sending another message afterwards. “but first of all take off these clothes. i'm so fucking wet.” 

“hey, that's my line.” you joked, imagining he must have laughed when he read it. and he did.

“cheeky. later i'll make you wetter than i am now, what do you think?” he suggested. you bit your lip.

“i’ll wait for it.’’ you texted back, swaying your legs up and down like a teenager.

“good. i’ll call you in 30 minutes. wear something nice for me, love ;)” 

you thought you were dressed appropriately for him. a cotton cropped shirt and a flared mini skirt. but you thought there's something missing. it wasn't "nice" enough for him.

you opened your closet and drawers, looking for some suggestion. you didn't even know exactly what you were looking for. 

your eyes landed on your underwear drawer, remembering that you had a pair of white knee socks somewhere. you didn't know if he would like them, but knowing him well enough, you could deduce that was worth a try.

you put on the socks, the soft fabric gliding over your legs like a massage, the hem resting right above your knees. you looked at your reflection in the mirror, flexing your leg and bending your knee to see how it looked. then you turned your back, looking over your shoulder to see how it looked from this angle. it wasn't bad. it showed off your legs nicely. he might like it, but if he doesn't, he'll be polite enough to ask you to take it off.

you made sure your door was locked, turning the knob twice as a precaution. once confirmed, you jumped on your bed, grabbing your phone. as if on time, a message from him popped up on your screen.

‘’ready?’’

‘’yep.’’ you texted, settling yourself in bed, lying partially between your pillows, your back resting on the headboard, your knee bent so you could rest your phone on it.

seconds later, a video call popped up on your screen, and you answered it without delay.

oh, as always, he was handsome. unlike you, he was standing, probably walking around his apartment, the position of the camera revealed that he was holding his phone a little too low. and of course, shirtless.

‘’hey love, i- fuck, no, no! wait a minute.’’ he said before you could say anything, leaving his phone in a corner, the camera focusing on the ceiling was all you could see now. you waited for him to come back, listening for some noises and trying to figure out what it was. seconds later, he came back. ‘’sorry, i had to put the neighbor's cat out. the bastard tried to steal my last slice of pizza.’’ 

you laughed at what he said. you expected anything but that. 

‘’how did he tried to steal your pizza?’’ you asked as he was making his way to the bedroom, turning off the lights on the way.

‘’he came in through my kitchen window. can't turn my back for a bloody second.’’ he rolled his eyes, entering his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed. ‘’you look lovely, baby. new necklace?’’ he pointed out. you looked at your chest, the silver necklace resting on your collarbone. you didn't even think he would notice that. but he was very observant, especially when it came to you.

‘’yeah, i bought it yesterday when i went out to shopping with my mom.’’ you answered and he hummed, his mouth was too busy eating a piece of pizza. ‘’although this isn't the necklace i was looking for.’’

‘’which one did you want?’’ he asked, his voice a little muffled as he was finishing the slice of pizza.

‘’your hand.’’ you answered him, causing him to cough almost uncontrollably because he almost choked on the piece of pizza. you would have laughed if you weren't so worried about him. “are you okay? i'm sorry, i-”

‘’no, no, i'm fine. wasn't expecting it, you can't do this to me, jesus.” he laughed after catching his breath, his face was a little red because of it. “you can't have my hand as your necklace if you choke me to death on a piece of pizza.”

“sorry, i didn't know you'd be so surprised.” you chuckled softly, watching him wipe his mouth with a napkin, throwing the paper in the trash.

“you just caught me by surprise, hon. you're not usually this forward.” he said. he was right, sometimes you were a little shy, even though you've done things that say otherwise. “by the way, are you wearing something nice like i asked you to?”

you nodded, adjusting your posture, getting into an angle so he could see your body when you stretched out your arm holding your phone in your hand, giving him a good view. he let out a low whistle, enjoying the view.

“no way, knee socks?” he asked with raised eyebrows as his eyes landed on your legs, making himself comfortable in his bed. it wasn't in a disapproving tone, by the way.

“yeah, did you like it?” you asked a little insecurely.

“hell, a lot.” he licked his lips, taking a look at you. “i have an idea, do you want to know what it is?”

you nodded eagerly. by the tone he spoke, he was certainly going to suggest something for you to do.

“take off your clothes. i want you in nothing but those knee socks. can you do that for me, love?”

the idea made your hair stand on end. you knew that eventually you would undress for him, but you didn't know that you would be so nervous about the idea and that it would be so exciting to be naked for him, wearing only a pair of white knee socks.

“you can take your time, baby. don't worry, i've got all the time in the world for you.” he reassured you, making you even more comfortable with the idea.

“shirt?” you suggested and he hummed in agreement.

“are you wearing a bra?” he asked and you shook your head. “good. i miss those nice tits of yours.”

you giggled, grabbing a pillow and placing it on the middle of the bed, positioning your phone so that it rests on it.

“is the angle okay?” you asked him, sitting with your legs spread on the bed. he could even get a small glimpse of your panties.

“amazing, baby. keep going.” he said. he didn't really care about the angle as long as he could see you and your body on full display for him on his phone screen.

you pulled your crop top up, pulling it over your head. the mere sight of your breasts on the screen made him groan, biting his lip as he palmed himself over his sweatpants, even though you couldn't see it for now.

‘’so beautiful. one day i'm going to suck those tits, mark my words.’’

you smiled at the idea. alex seemed like the kind of hungry man who could devour you if he could. and he really was. he wanted to mark you, to sink his fingers and teeth into your flesh, so that he and everyone else could see that he was the one who did this to you. he wanted to make sure everyday that you were his, that only he could see you like that and make you feel that way. 

you touched your boobs, adding a little more anticipation to the moment, your nipples hardening with the mere stimulation on them, your eyes rarely looking at him on the screen, focused on losing your shyness as you touched your left breast while your right hand went down your belly.

“the skirt too?” you asked him, tracing your index finger along the waistband of your skirt.

“everything.” alex answered, a minimally authoritative tone was noticeable in his voice, but you didn't think it was bad. it turned you on even more.

you shifted in bed, your fingers hooked on the sides of your skirt, slowly pulling it down, letting the material slide down your legs, his eyes watching every move without blinking, as if he would never see something like that again in his life. his hand tightened his grip on his cock, feeling that sooner or later he would have to take it out, such was the pressure inside his boxers.

“you have beautiful legs, love.” he praised you as he drank the sight of your semi naked body, the only thing that kept him from seeing you naked were your panties and knee socks.

“thank you.” you smiled, you liked it when he complimented you, even when it was something simple. you felt desired, in a way.

“you're nervous, aren't you?” he asked. he had never seen you in person and never lived with you physically, but he knew you well enough to know that.

“god, yes. i'm sorry, i've never done that.” you mumbled, closing your legs a bit so you wouldn't feel so exposed.

“that's okay, baby, you're doing so good. take your time.” he said in a reassuring tone, not wanting you to feel insecure or embarrassed around him. “just remember that sooner or later i'm going to see this pretty pussy of yours. and believe me, i'm going to gorge myself on it.”

you chuckled awkwardly, still feeling a bit insecure. he pouted slightly.

“hey, look at me.” he asked you, he couldn't just hold your face and make you look at him, so he expected you to look back at the screen, which is what you did. “don't worry about it. we're just going to have some fun, i want you to enjoy yourself with me, hm?” he spoke calmly and patiently, knowing he needed to be careful with his words.

you smiled, nodding in response to him. he knew how to reassure you, how to make you feel safe. you were in this together, after all.

you tried opening your legs again, your hand running over the fabric of your underwear, testing the waters as he swallowed hard at your actions. you touched your sensitive bud, feeling it contract inside your panties with the touch of your fingertip.

‘’mhm, that’s it. doing so good, love.” he said, his voice almost in a whisper as he stuck his hand inside his sweatpants, squeezing his cock more directly over his boxers, his thumb ghosted over his sensitive tip, leaking precum and staining the fabric of his underwear. 

he felt uncomfortable with this, shifting in bed to get his sweatpants and boxers down, freeing his cock, the angle he was lying at made the tip touch his stomach.

“you're making me hard as fuck.” he moaned in a somewhat anxious way.

“yeah? show me.” you instigated him.

fuck, you didn't even need to ask twice. he angled his phone so you could see his cock, his free hand grabbing it firmly by the base, massaging it deftly, working his way up until he reached the head, pulling back the foreskin so you could see his glistening tip practically taking over your screen.

you leaned against the headboard, supporting your body weight there while your hands were free. one hand hooked your panties, finally pulling to the side, showing him your most intimate area.

“beautiful. just like i imagined.” he bit his lip, watching your fingers firmly grip the fabric of your panties like a real hook while the fingers of your other hand roamed the skin of your crotch, teasing both you and him. “god, i can already imagine myself with my face buried in this pussy all day.”

you giggled, you loved how vocal he was. your index and middle finger wandered through your folds in an inverted 'v' position, sliding up and down your labia, feeling your digits getting wet.

“'wet?”

“so fucking wet.” you answered and he groaned. you also knew how to tease him with words, his dirty thoughts getting the best of him as he saw you touching yourself like this.

“yeah? think i can shove my cock inside you without needing lube?” he asked you, starting to pump his cock faster.

“oh, you have no idea.” you said in a sly tone, moving your hands away from there only to pull the panties down your legs, discarding them on the bed among the sheets. and you were just the way he asked, completely naked, except for the knee socks. oh, that made his cock throb.

“god, you're so fucking hot.” he hissed, pumping faster, his fist closed so tightly that his tip was getting redder and the veins were getting more visible. “touch yourself for me, love. please.”

you brought your index and middle fingers to your mouth, thinking about it. please. he never asked you “please”, not that you remember. he always asked, in a polite but authoritative tone, sounding like a gentle order. but never added the word please. 

it sounded like he's begging you. and you liked it.

“please?” you repeated the word, wetting your fingers, bringing them down to your sensitive bud that was aching to be touched.

“fucking please…” he said in a desperate growl, his eyes fixed on your body as you tesed him furter, circling your fingers on your clit, the contact making you hiss. “feels good?”

“mhmm, so good…” you hummed, circling your fingers counterclockwise, the way you always did when you pleased yourself alone in that bed in your room. “i wish you were touching me right now.”

“don't say that to me or i might come out in the rain and climb in through your bedroom window just to fuck you.” he panted, making you imagine the scene, a small whimper leaving your lips.

“yeah? would you fuck me good?” you asked, moving your fingers down, teasing your wet and slick entrance, your fingertips sliding in with ease.

“so good, baby. would you like it hard and deep?" he asked you, feeling the pleasure starting to get the best of him, he tried to hold on as much as he could.

you nodded eagerly, sliding two fingers inside your tight heat. he watched as you buried your own fingers inside your cunt until reached your knuckles, withdrawing them just to repeat the motion. nothing had ever turned him on as much as this. he felt like a teenager watching porn for the first time, but it was a thousand times better. it was real, and it was for him. only for him.

“so be it. gonna fuck you good, baby. the way you deserve it.” 

his words entered your mind like a virus, your eyes squeezed shut as your fingers went back and forth, coating them with your arousal. you couldn't help but vividly imagine him fucking you hard, his hips snapping against yours, his cock filling you to the brim as he squeezed your neck, calling you his little slut who takes his cock so fucking well.

“oh my god, please…” you whimpered breathlessly, your legs starting to tremble involuntarily, your head tilting to the side.

“are you going to come for me, love? you're so close, i can see it.” he hummed, watching you nodding, his fist was hurting, but he didn't want to stop, not when he was so close too.

“yes, yes, oh alex…” you moaned his name, making him grunt in response, his breath ragged and his body trembled, he could barely concentrate on holding the phone anymore, even though he doesn't want to miss a single second of you fingering yourself, chasing your climax.

“fuck, i can't hold back…” he almost whined, and you let out a satisfied smile, so close that you're already seeing stars.

“yes, fuck me, alex…” you moaned, and that was the last straw for him. he moaned loudly, his head falling back into the pillow as he came, making a mess of his own belly and chest, but he didn't stop, even though his senses were overwhelmed at this point.

as you watched him fucking his own fist through his orgasm and heard his whimpers, you followed him suit, cumming on your fingers, your free hand covered your mouth so you wouldn't moan loudly as the climax hit you, your trembling legs closed automatically around your hand as your fingers pumped and curled inside you to prolong your pleasure.

in the seconds that followed, all that could be heard besides the sound of the rain outside were the panting breaths as the bodies lay completely exhausted on the respective beds. it was so intense, you couldn't remember the last time you had an orgasm that good, especially when you were touching yourself.

after a few seconds, he broke the silence.

“still there?” he asked. you gave him thumbs up and he chuckled. you needed a few more seconds to recover.

“yeah, yeah…” you mumbled, taking a deep breath through your nose and letting it out through your mouth. then, you lifted your head, looking at him. he was as broken as you were.

“it just gets better, princess. you're amazing, really.” he said. and he was sincere, you could see it. or at least he gave you enough confidence to make you think that.

“you're amazing too. you must be even better in person.” you answered him next. it was like you were having pillow talk after sex. the difference is you hadn't had sex. not yet.

“well, baby, i'll try to impress you. i have to win you over every day.” he chuckled, groaning as he saw his own mess, knowing he would have to clean himself up. “hate this part.” 

“i wish i could lick you clean.” you pouted and he pouted too, chuckling at your boldness.

“you always get feisty after having your orgasm, huh?” he questioned and you giggled, picking up your panties to put them back on carefully, your legs felt like jelly. 

“only with you.” you winked at him, licking your fingers as he sighed at the sight of you. he was quiet for a while, just looking at you, his mind working in different ways. “what?”

“i want to see you.” he answered after a few seconds of silence.

“you’re seeing me already.” you chuckled and he shook his head after letting out a weak laugh.

“no, i want to really see you. to meet you in person.” 

oh. now that was another level.

[moody-alcoholic]

The Missing Piece

Chapter 10 - The Morning After

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. 2.4k words. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe.

CW: Fluff, hangover, Johnny and reader shower together but no sex.

Previous parts - masterlist - next

AO3

Enjoy <3

When you wake your head is throbbing. You don’t remember falling alseep, you look round the dark room. You’re in Johnny and Simon’s bed. You pull yourself out the bed leaving the room. You can see the sun coming in lighting up the flat. You can hear voices, the bed was empty. 

You press the guestroom door open, she’s not there the bedding has been stripped. Where is she? You head into the bathroom opening the cupboard looking for painkillers, you accidentally drop a bottle of something off the shelf making you jump. You bend down to pick it up.

“You okay?” Simon asks, you look up at him in the doorway. 

“Yeah I’m fine just looking for some paracetamol.” You say getting up. 

“It’s in the kitchen,” Simon says coming in the room. You close the cupboard stopping at the mirror. 

“How’s it look?” You ask, he steps closer his hand cupping your face, his thumb brushes  your cheek. 

“Not bad.” He says, you smile turning your head to look in the mirror, the side of your head is swollen but the bruising doesn't look to bad, you must have not been hit hard they were drunk.

“Where’s Chloe?” You ask as you start to leave the room. 

“She woke early insisted on being driven to her place.” Simon says.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” You ask frustrated letting Simon lead you to the master bedroom. 

“Go lie down I’ll get you the pain killers.” He says kissing your cheek and gently pushing you into the room. You turn to watch him walk away. There must be someone visiting, you can still hear Johnny talking in a hushed voice. You’re trying to look as Simon comes back with a glass of water and two pills in his hand. You take the glass from him trying to crane your head to listen as he pushes you into the room. 

“Is there someone here?” You as sitting on the bed.

“Price came round for coffee.” He says. You throw the pills back gulping down some water, handing the glass back to him. 

“Want me to come say hi?” You say, although the thought of interacting with anyone right now seemed like too much effort. He smiles bending down to kiss your forehead.

“I’ll tell him you say hi.” He says, you nod getting yourself into bed. As you pull the duvet over you you look over on the bedside table. There was a framed picture of Johnny and Simon, looks like they’re at a party or something, maybe just out at the pub, they’re both looking at each other, Johnny’s arms wrapped round Simon’s arm pulling him close. They’re both smiling at each other. You smile and close you’re eyes, hoping it won’t be long till the painkillers kick in. 

—————————— 

You wake to Johnny by your side, the throbbing in your head dulled. You move closer to him which stirs him awake as he pulls you onto his chest.  

“Hey, you okay?” He asks sleepily, almost like it’s an automatic response. 

“I’m so sick of people asking that.” You say puling yourself up to his face. You kiss him, you’ve missed his touch and Simon, where is he? You can’t feel him behind you.

“Where’s Simon?” You ask. 

“Work,” Johnny says stroking your hair out your face. His fingers stopping round the bump, he doesn't touch it instead his fingers finding their way back to your chin. 

“What time is it?” You ask. He turns over reaching for his phone. 

“Four, wanna order some pizza?” He asks looking back up at you. You smile, pizza does sound amazing.

“I could kill for a kebab.” You say giggling. 

“Kebab sounds good, the work out after doesn’t.” He says pulling you up. You swing your legs over his waist so you’re sat on top of him. 

“We can just have lots of sex.” You say leaning down kissing him. 

“Pizza sounds good too,” you say. “Whatever you want.” You stroke his face looking down at his sleepy blue eyes looking back at you. You kiss him again playing with his tongue, his fingers digging into your waist. You pull away smiling. 

“I’ll take a shower, you order food?” You say. He nods and you quickly kiss him one more time climbing off him heading into the bathroom. 

Johnny joins you in the shower after he’s finished ordering food. He helps you wash lathering your body in a thick layer of soap, he spends his time mapping out your curves, running his hands over your body like it’s the first time he’s touched you. 

You think he might want to have sex but that doesn’t happen, instead he spends the time touching you, kissing you, running is tongue across your neck. He washes you while you stand there running your hands up his chest or down his back. You let the steam in the room relax you, the throbbing in your head is completely gone. 

You enjoy his touch letting him dig his fingers into your skin, he presses his nose against yours kissing you until his phone pings. 

“That’ll be the food.” He says opening the shower doors and stepping out. He leaves you and you finish washing the rest of the soap out your hair before you leave too. 

—————————— 

You end up on the sofa with Johnny watching some cheesy action film with a pizza each. Johnny screams at the film talking about how unrealistic it is. You laugh each time then cuddle on the sofa watching the sun set and the rain move in. 

When the door to the flat opens and Simon walks in he still has his mask on. Your breath catches in your throat as he walks down to the dining table putting his phone and keys down. Johnny mutters something under his breath before getting up to meet him. Simon’s eyes lock onto yours but he almost immediately looks away. You don’t know what to do. 

“Need anything?” Johnny asks him as he picks up Simon’s phone and keys. Simon won’t meet his eye line either. He shakes his head heading to the bedroom. Johnny comes back over to the sofa putting Simon’s phone on the coffee table. 

“Is he okay?” You ask. Johnny nods playing with his wedding ring again. “Should we talk to him?” 

“He might just need a few minutes, he’s had a long day.” Johnny says sighing. You decide to drop it, turning back to the TV, it’s raining outside now, feels like it could storm. Johnny doesn’t move, just sits there, starring out the window occasionally flicking his eyes back to the bedroom. 

You sigh suddenly distracted by the buzzing of your phone you pull it out. It’s work, they shouldn’t be calling you for another week at least. You get up to answer it going into the kitchen. You see Johnny turn to look at you, you turn away.  

“You’re being stationed in Syria, you’ll be expected to report for duty at London Heathrow airport at oh-six-hundred on the 20th of July.” The voice said. You were too distracted by the fact you were being stationed overseas, the middle east, fucking Syria that you almost missed the fact that the 20th was in 3 days. 

“I still have two weeks of leave.” You protest quickly. 

“It’s been postponed you’ll be getting an official letter within the next 48 hours or the next bushiness day.” You didn't know what to say, you have never been called up like this before, you’re an army nurse you sit on army bases doing health checks and vaccinations. 

“I need to hear you acknowledge the message.” The voice says you’re almost not listening. 

“Yeah, I acknowledge it.” You’re too stunned to speak, not even remotely professional. The woman says have a good day and you echo back the same. You turn to look at Johnny still on the sofa. His head moves to look at you as you make your way back to the sofa. 

“You okay love?” Johnny asks. Shit, he already has to deal with Simon, you’ll tell them when he’s feeling better. You force a smile looking back out at the rain pelting down harder. 

“Yeah, weather sucks.” You say sitting back down.

“Who was on the phone?” He asks, seemingly being able to read through your bullshit. 

“Chloe, she was checking in.” You lie, he nods looking back at the TV. You scoot up next to him trying to relax against him. His arm leaves his wedding ring and he starts to rub your back.  

 —————————— 

An hour later Simon materialises from the bedroom, you see out the corner of your eye as the bathroom door closes. Johnny sits up and you move too leaving a gap for Simon to sit between you both. When he comes out the bathroom he pulls a shirt on walking towards the sofa. His hair is a mess he must have taken a nap. He walks over to the sofa leaning down and kissing Johnny on the head. 

“Feeling better?” Johnny asks him as he squeezes his shoulder. Simon just grunts in response bending down and burring his head in Johnny’s neck. Johnny whispers something too him quiet enough that you cant make it out with his head facing away from you. Simon stands back up coming over to you his hand cups your cheek bending down to plant a kiss on your lips. 

“How’s you head?” He asks as he makes his way into the kitchen. 

“Fine.” You respond looking over at Johnny he seems way more relaxed now, no longer playing with his wedding ring like a fidget toy, his arm laid over the back of the sofa. Simon comes over a glass of water in his hand and you move over so he can sit between you and Johnny. He puts the glass down and leans back. 

You lean into him and Johnny follows. He sighs his left arm resting on Johnny’s thigh, you pull your legs on the couch. It’s nice leaning up against Simon with Johnny, you can hear his heart beating and Johnny’s breathing from across you. It’s perfect, and you hoped you would have two more weeks of this. 

You always thought about the fact that they could be called up at any time but not you, you always had a schedule, you always knew when you had to work. Your hand reaches over to Johnny to grip his hand, he looks back up at you smiling, then his expression changes as you look him in the eyes. 

“What’s the matter love?” he asks sitting up, Simon follows turning to you for a second you’re confused then you blink and feel the tears run down your cheek. You open your mouth to speak but the words catch in your throat, it’s almost like you can’t breathe you swallow hard, but it just brings more tears. You throw yourself onto Simon’s chest as his arms wrap around you trying to hide the tears. Johnny gets up coming to sit next to you, his hand starts to rub your back.

“Talk to us.” Johnny says as he brushes hair behind your ear. “Was it about the phone call with Chloe earlier?” You shake your head on Simon’s chest.

“Stupid,” you say between sobs. “It’s so stupid.” Simon’s hands grip your shoulders holding you up, his eyes look you up and down. 

“It wasn’t Chloe, it was my deployment.” You say.

“That’s still 2 weeks away,” Johnny says pressing on the small of your back, letting out a sigh. You shake your head. 

“Three days,” You shrug. 

“Where?” Simon asks using his thumb to whip your tears away. 

“Syria” You reply. Simon brings your lips to his and kisses you deep, his arms move you into Johnny’s embrace, you lean up against him as Simon gets up picking his phone up off the coffee table. 

“Si?” Johnny says quietly as you bury your head into Johnny’s chest his arms wrapping round you as you sniffle. You hear Simon kiss Johnny. You hear the bedroom door close again as Johnny’s strokes your hair, he moves his body so he’s laid flat on the sofa and you scoot up his chest. He kisses your forehead. 

“Syria is nice, it’s warm at least, not like here.” He says, you look out the window it’s dark now but you can see the rain splashing on the window. 

The bedroom door slamming makes you jump Johnny pulls you further up on his chest. There is a blanket around you now. 

“I like the sun.” You say as you sniffle. He kisses your head, still stroking your hair. You close your eyes listening to his breathing as he tells you it’s all going to be okay. You want it to be okay, you want to believe him, overseas and it’s shortened your leave, they must be desperate, or maybe you’ve just been having too much luck. 

…

“It’s okay, go back to sleep.” Johnny’s voice hums in your ear, his breath hot on your cheek as he pulls the blanket over your shoulders. You’re still tired you don’t remember falling asleep, your body is heavy, you should not be tired, you’ve slept so much since yesterday. The feeling of Johnny’s warm arms around you, rubbing your back, his gentle kisses on your head, it’s enough to lull you back towards sleep. 

“How’d it go?” Johnny says quietly, you hear Simon sigh as he flops down on the recliner. 

“Whoever sent the order is high up.” Simon says, Johnny shushes him. Simon tuts. 

“So nothing we can do?” Johnny asks. 

“‘Fraid not.” Simon says quieter. 

“What about the reason for cutting her leave short?” Johnny asks as he kisses your head again. 

“Staffing issues.” Simon says, Johnny scoffs. There are a few moments of silence and you’re about to dip back into sleep when Johnny speaks up again.

“Think it had anything to do with the party?” Simon doesn’t say anything. 

“She’s going to a warzone.” Johnny says pulling you tighter. 

“She’s a soldier Soap.” Simon says, there’s a hint of something in his voice, anger, annoyance, sadness.  

“You know what I mean.” He says huffing. Simon sighs, Johnny’s fingers stroke your face hair being pushed behind your ears again. 

“I fecking love her Si,” Johnny says as you feel his breath on your cheek. Your heart skips a beat, luckily you’re tired enough your body doesn’t betray you keeping still.

“I know Johnny, I do too.” He sounds sad, you don’t get chance to think about it though your body heavy, breathing shallow. Hopefully it’s all a dream and you’ll wake up tomorrow with two weeks left to spend with Johnny and Simon. You’re not counting on it though. 

Banners by the-aesthetics-shop

Next part

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 2.

Summary: Felix and Y/N's first year of university means being more open with how close they are, while perhaps growing a little more distant than Felix would like. Also the Catton family have bestowed Y/N their own title, which Felix hates, and Y/N and Farleigh have a moment of connection over Christmas.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader with Felix, Venetia, and Farleigh in this chapter. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: Smut (reader bottoming but their gender is not made explicit), Degrading language (reader is referred to as as dog & pet)

A/N: 3071 words. i definitely meant to get to the start of their second year/first run in with Oli..... but this chapter got long enough, so instead we'll meet Oliver at the start of the next chapter and instead we get Felix and Reader at university, best friends who hook up shenanigans, Venetia being a pot-stirrer because she likes to rile up her brother, and Farleigh and Y/N bonding and boning. i feel like the pacing is a bit strange so id love some feedback <3 ALSO I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT UK COLLEGE CALANDERS IM SO SORRY LOL

Taglist: @strangemaximoff @renaissance-mama @tsach @malscorner @xhoneymoonx134 @yelchinweasleylothbrok @tarriea @florencediet @butitsbetterifyoudoittoem @belladonnadarksshade @fandom-multiamory @snazzynacho @jubileexoxo @soocore @be-lla-vie @nightingale2124 @willow-sages @null4ndv0id @gracieluvthemoon @day2dream @marvellover98 @navixfr @bitxhinthecomments @daintylovers @alesunsets @noturningbacknow @d0llysposts @alilcloudy @callsignwidow @moviequotes23 @325575 @bonnieblue0606 @osoqueen125 @hot-dino-nuggies @darkness-falls-xo

----

To absolutely no-ones surprise, least of all yours, Felix takes to the social aspects of college like a duck to water. Neither of you missed a single day or night of activities during first year orientation, and you both left the various pubs and bars with a different hook up each night.

Felix sees a poster for a band in town, and crows with laughter as he talks about how his mother would hate if he ever got a piercing, but you know the look in his eye too well, and tell him there's a piercing place a block away.

"God I miss Farleigh," you sigh with a smile, watching him size himself up in the mirror of the tattoo parlour where the piercer had drawn approximate dots to mark his soon-to-be eyebrow piercing.

"Oh he'd love this, wouldn't he?" Felix agrees, grinning from ear to ear, catching your gaze in the reflection. Despite the piercer's reassurance that it doesn't actually hurt that bad, Felix plays up the bit of being concerned, insisting that you hold his hand.

It's easier in this environment to be affectionate. Perhaps its the way that all nights liked to blur together, lips and teeth and tongues and hands, and you find yourself invited to parties and into bedrooms and Felix is in the crowd, pupils wide and drugs in his blood and knowing you can take care of yourself.

Fruit flies mistaking his light in the night for the rot they're used to.

That being said, while of course Felix is gorgeous and the life of the party, your own magnetic aura and love features draw in your own crowd of admirers; you proximity to Felix was merely a perk.

You yourself find yourself blooming at college; with a far stronger sense of identity than you'd had for most of your teenage years, you shed many of your adolescent insecurities and begin to embrace yourself and the people around you as more than just Felix's friends.

"I miss you," he teases, eyes shiny and pupils huge, looking at you with that look that made everyone else weak in the knees. The two of you are crammed too close in a booth at a club, everyone else having left to dance or find something interesting to snort in the bathrooms.

"I'm always around, Fi," you murmur, just as high, lips twisted into a bleary smile, your finger beneath his chin to lift his face to you.

"They love you here," he grinned, lips inches from yours, skin glowing with sweat from the adrenaline and high of the night, "knew they would," it's not especially jealous, more proud, and you sigh against his lips with the kind of warm contentment his praise always brings you.

"Don't care if they love me," you say, very tellingly, voice low and flirty. Anyone could see the two of you, but the unspoken rules of high school had fallen away; the rules of college seemed to prioritise a lack of judgement, especially with the people you surrounded yourself with. Felix giggles, flushing red, leaning into your touch, leaning even heavier against you in the little, otherwise empty booth.

"You miss me, Fi?" You prompt, letting his face go as you wrap an arm around him, drawing you in close to him. Despite his height, he folds himself up to lean into you. Felix giggles again, mostly to himself, clearly shitfaced, without answering, he angles his face up to press a kiss to your neck, "we see each other every day, we still fuck around, we -"

"Do you think I could live without you?" He asks suddenly, and surprisingly frankly. His chin is on your shoulder, eyes wide and demanding an answer. It's not a joke, nor some strange attempt at flirting, and your throat turns dry as the lights spin around you both.

"You're drunk," you tell him gently, "and high."

"Why would I ask that?" He frowns, suddenly, sitting up, as if he's talking more to himself than you, "that's a fucked question actually, sorry Y/N, I shouldn't have -"

"I think it's more about how you feel about it." You tell him gently, "we should get water. You sit here, I'll get it."

You're unsteady on your feet when you head to the bar, collecting two cups of water, almost overflowing, from the end, trying not to think about it all. It didn't matter either way, how he thought or felt about it. It was a foolish, drunken question, it doesn't matter. Right?

Except he's bopping back and forth in his seat, tapping the rhythm with surprising success on the table top, eyes shining in the light where all he seems to look at is you. Felix grin wide and bright, thanks already in his smile before the words reach his lips as you sit back down next to him.

You could live without him, but you know you'd never want to, so long as he'd want you around.

"Think I'd rather die than live without you," he says with little prompting, holding the cup with both hands as he downs half in a single gulp. What?

"What?"

He turns those perfect, brown eyes upon you like you don't already live your life in his shape, like he hadn't validated every choice you'd made since you'd met him. He smiles.

"You're my best mate, you're always good to me and help me with shit and never get mad at all the dumb ideas I have and you've made sure I haven't gotten kicked out of any schools, even if I probably deserved it," he rambles and takes another drink, this time choosing to look out at the nauseating crowd of haze and lights and bodies, "I love you, I don't think I could live without you."

"Is that why you miss me?" Your voice is barely audible above the music, but Felix still hears it. Putting his mostly empty cup on the table, he shoves his shoulder against yours, refusing to let up until his full weight is against you, the two of you toppling down in the booth, him draped over you wearing the absolute goofiest grin. It's a good reminder that you're both incredibly drunk.

"Just miss you."

You stumble out of the bar together, and back to the dorms. Felix is insistent that you stay with him.

"No funny business," he mumbles against your ear, breath hot and smirk in his voice, "promise."

"You couldn't get it up if you tried," you snorted, "whiskey dick." Though he tries to protest, you gently elbow him in the ribs and he sulkily admits that you're probably right. Still, in the warmth of his room and the two of you stripped to your underwear, it's kind of irresistible to not make out like teenagers for a good while. You get you both glasses of water to put on the nightstand, and Felix tells you he loves you while on the brink of sleep.

"Love you too, Fi."

"Couldn't live without you, meant it," he hiccups, cracking an eye to smirk up at you from where he's splayed out on the bed, "probably."

"Don't think I could live without you either," you shuffle yourself into the bed beside him, letting him roll over to wrap an arm around you, "even if you are a fucking wanker sometimes," you grin, and hear him laugh into his pillow.

Felix has more game than anyone you've ever met without even trying, stealing and breaking hearts from all areas of the university. You watch it happen with amusement as you find your own slew of pretty guys and girls to keep you company when you feel like it. Still, for all the charisma and charm Felix had been blessed with, his touch-starved nature becomes both a blessing and a curse when he finds himself drunk and tactile and desperate for touch.

A desperate, affection Felix loses all of those carefully-curated social barriers that the two of you had put between yourselves as teenagers in public. Girls are more open and supportive around here; perhaps you should be offended, that many, once they learn he's prone to clinging to you, to kissing you, they end up rationalising it. It doesn't count.

Or perhaps they think they can shift the affection to themselves. Felix always learns to be more affectionate to them, but will find himself with you more often than he's not.

And those girls don't even know about the sex.

"I think about you," he huffs between short, jagged breaths, with you bent over the end of his bed, "is that weird?"

His latest breakup isn't even twelve hours old yet, but when you'd showed up at his room with a six-pack of beers and the offer to let him vent, he'd taken it without hesitation. While they hadn't been going out for long, she'd been pretty, but an apparently lousy fuck. When you'd jokingly offered to remind him what a decent lay was like, Felix had genuinely jumped at the chance.

"A bit - ah," you mused for a moment, hips rocking back to meet his in a pleasant rhythm. He takes a pause to tap one of your ankles with his foot, and you adjust your stance to be a bit wider, "what context? Just in general - fuck, Fi, there," and you find yourself lost for words as he presses his hand against the small of your back. His pace remains steady as he fucks you, and you obliging lean further down; he knows you well, know how to fuck you just the way you both enjoy.

Then you're in his bed, straddling him, riding him with his hands on your hips, your thighs, bouncing as his nails dig pleasantly into your skin.

"Think about me?" You finally continue, breathless, and something about the way he holds you steady, lets you pause as he laughs, flushed cheeks growing even more read, makes you grin too, "you mean like this, don't you?" And you rolled your hips, eliciting a groan from him that was like music to your ears.

"Shut up," he'd laughed, giving you a squeeze, unable to meet your gaze.

"Did you ever call out my name?" You lean down, across him, and for a moment his hands slide up your body to wrap around your neck, bringing you in for a gentle kiss.

"Thankfully not."

"Still, those poor girls," you teased.

"Poor me," Felix argued, "having to try and power through terrible sex while thinking about someone who's not even there, just because I know you're better at it," and he played at pouting for a moment, looking for sympathy.

"You really didn't have to tell me all this," you laughed, sitting back up and setting a gentle pace, smiling down at him, "you're such a perv." When his fingertips trail down your body, a shiver runs down your spine. There's this look in his eyes for just a moment, something knowing, something teasing, something you'd seen on occasion that made you feel so wanted and seen and -

He likes you knowing.

"You gonna give me something to think about?" That tone of voice, the teasing, the faintest hint of authority, like he's pretending like he doesn't know all the ways you'd debauch yourself if only he asked.

Venetia gets you a collar for Christmas, and Farleigh's already been kicked out of several universities by the time your first Winter break had arrived.

"Oh Pet, that's so cute," Elspeth coos at the designer, velvet collar that Venetia had smugly handed over while Felix had scowled, "is that Cartier?" Much to Felix's dismay, Elspeth and Sir James have apparently taken to calling you Pet as a pet name. He blames his sister entirely.

"Pet's easier, sweetheart," Elspeth had tried to argue when you'd sat down at your first breakfast of the Winter break at Saltburn, and she'd asked Duncan 'don't forget about our dear pet'. Naturally Felix had frowned the entire time while arguing with his parents, who insisted it's easier to use Pet than a whole new set of names and pronouns.

"It's been years mum, how have you not adjusted?" He demands, while you have shrunken in your chair and tried to divine life's secrets from your breakfast.

"What do you think, Pet?" Venetia said with a venomous kind of sweetness. Looking up at her, she's wearing this smug kind of smile, directed not at you but at Felix next to you. When you look to him, you see Farleigh across the table trying to hide his amusement in several pieces of toast eaten with no break in between.

"I think," you paused, looking past an annoyed Felix to his mother at the head of the table, "that if you want to call me Pet, you can, I think it's sweet, but please don't expect Felix to refer to me as such," you said with a surprising amount of firmness. Then after a beat of surprise from the rest of the table, you took a deep breath, "and for events and guests, I really wouldn't appreciate being introduced as such."

"Of course," Elspeth quickly amends, adding, "Y/N," for good measure.

"It's a pet name, Pet," Sir James gives an awkward little smile, nodding in agreement. Farleigh met your gaze for a moment, and you could see only the bread was keeping his laughter from spilling out. Beside you, Felix relaxes, and finally you look at him. Dark, serious eyes, with something grateful shining faintly in the morning sun.

Of course you let him throw Venetia's collar gift in the fire in front of her, despite her protests.

You get used to the sweet way the Cattons refer to you as Pet; as much as Felix despised it's connotations when it came from his sister, there was something comforting, something almost secure about the way the whole family had picked it up so easily.

"Was wondering where I'd find you," Farleigh's voice is warm while you're raiding the expansive kitchen for some kind of easy midnight snack. You could have asked one of the many staff members who reside on the property, but you hadn't wanted to bother them over probably some crisps.

"Farleigh!" You light up upon hearing his voice, turning, refrigerator door still open in your hand. He approaches, and you close the refrigerator, hugging him tightly, "oh this is great, it's been so long since it's been just us!"

"Darling pet," he says with a surprising amount of gentleness.

"You should come to Oxford, Fi and I miss you terribly," you tell him, leaning into his touch with a sincere smile as he holds your face gently, while you still hold him is a loose embrace.

"I've already been accepted into another college; you'll be fine without me," and he grins, kissing you on the nose, pressing a kiss to each cheek, "pet." He adds, almost to himself, and your face falls as you think about what he'd said.

"Everything's better with you," you insist, "and you'd love it; we could party like we did that Summer in France, but every weekend -!" Farleigh cuts you off with his lips against yours; you can taste the sweet smile he's wearing before he deepens the kiss.

Later, in Farleigh's bed, bathed in moonlight and the afterglow, you light up a cigarette and open his window.

"Fucking freezing," Farleigh mutters.

"Sorry," but you don't close the window. Silence stretches out between you both. You hope Farleigh enjoyed himself, hope he's happy -

"You don't need them," he says quietly, staring up at the ceiling. After a moment, you breathe out a lungful of smoke and turn to him with a frown, "this family; we all know where you're from. You don't need them." There's something strange about his tone, clearing his throat when he finally looks at you, "but you still want them to love you."

"They're good to me," you finally say, dropping your gaze as you reach back to offer the cigarette, "to us," you tell him, and he hums with the smoke in his lungs. Then, taking back the cigarette, you inhale the sour-sweet smoke and tap off the ash off the window sill.

"I'm not their fucking dog, Farleigh," you mumble, surprising frustration escaping you, anger you hadn't even realised you were holding on to.

"I know, pet," he says softly, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, "you'll let them think they have you kept, but you're not their dog, I know."

"I like you, Farleigh," you say with a faint smile, leaning back to see the way he's grinning too, "and I love you a bit as well I think."

"I know, I love you too, Y/N."

"We miss you a lot." There's something about the quiet that follows your words that you know all too well; Farleigh's about to tease you for something. Probably Felix related.

As if on cue;

"Does he know you like being his dog?" Grin widening, Farleigh gives you a slight shove, though the truth of his words has you hiding your own embarrassed smile.

"He thinks it's an insult to me, which is sweet of him," you chuckled, and Farleigh eases the cigarette from your fingers, "but it's like he has no idea the effect he's had on me for over a decade now. Yeah, I'm my own person, I have hobbies and friends outside of him, but -"

"You're a service bottom and desperately in love," Farleigh cuts in with a surprisingly sage tone, nodding like he hadn't absolutely called you out. Shocked with his vulgar kind of accuracy, you practically shove him out of the bed, laughing that he needs to fuck off, and the discussion is left at that.

The next morning, sitting down to breakfast, Duncan quietly informs Sir James that there had been a disturbance during the night. Immediately you throw Farleigh under the bus and declare that it's his fault.

"Hey!" He shouts back, grinning, "it takes two to fuck in the kitchen!" Which has all four of you, Venetia, Felix, Farleigh, and yourself, cracking up with laughter as Elspeth and Sir James were exasperated by your collective antics.

There is so much affection in Felix's eyes in this moment, this simple, strange moment of admitted sexual deviance. Except it's never felt like that to either of you. It's one of the ways you've both shown love, and he loves that you love those closest to him.

And you love to make him happy.

Farleigh was right, not that you'd ever tell him.

[fan-a-saurus-rex]

Caught being Naughty

Plot: Since meeting each other, before being experimented on, you’ve had a huge crush on Bob Reynolds. Now the two of you have been reunited and you’ve got even more baggage. Despite all that two of you find a way to make the best of your lives. He’s sweet and caring and you’re falling hard for him. But he’s not as innocent as you think he is and eventually the two of you get caught.

Pairing: Robert Reynolds x Thunderbolts!Reader

Warnings: smut, loss of virginity, swearing

Requested: A friend of mine wanted me to write a story for her and her friend who are obsessed with Lewis Pullman at the moment! This one is for you Betty (and you’re friend too, sorry I can’t remember her name 🤣)

Masterlist

You were so grateful for The Thunderbolts/New Avengers. While your previous captors saw you as a weapon and the rest of the world saw you as a monster, they saw you a girl who had been wronged and deserved a second chance.

They took you in and gave you a chance to join the team if you wanted to. You were still thinking about that. For now you were surrounded by people you know considered family. You trained with your new powers at least 3 times a week. At one point, they seemed like such a burden. Having superhuman strength and telekinetic abilities was no joke. Over time, you learned to control them and they didn’t seem as scary anymore. Now you had a bunch of new friends to help you out with training when you needed it.

Upon arriving to the tower a year ago, you were surprised to see an old friend.

Robert Reynolds.

Everyone knew him as Bob, you know him as Bobby.

You had grown up together in Florida and if you were being honest, you kinda had a crush on him. But that all changed after you were taken from your home by strangers and used as a Guinea pig like so many who had come before you. You were beat up, experimented on, and trained to be an assassin, but you rebelled. You never had it in you to be a bad person. So they threw you away, left you on the street to fend for yourself since you couldn’t be indoctrinated to do their bidding.

You had no idea that Bob had also been victim to that same fate, but with much different results.

Fortunately, you had both started over. In the past year, you’d become super close. Your feelings for him reignited inside you and you were reminded how amazing he was, despite the fact that you were both mentally broken now.

One night, while the rest of the team went out to a local pub to let loose and chill. You and Bob decided to stay in, not really wanting to go out amongst so many people.

You were watching movies when you felt something brush across your hand. You looked down to see Bob’s hand next to yours, stoking the back of your hand with his pinky finger.

You smiled a bit and scooted slightly closer to him. The connection between the two of you was undeniable. It was hard to be physically close to him with everyone else in the tower always in your business. Now that everyone was gone you finally had a chance but you were still shy. Apparently he wasn’t because he finally pulled you as close to him as he could get you, his arms wrapped around you.

You cuddled into him as you continued watching the movie. His fingers began tracing patterns on your arm. You looked up at him, curious about something.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” You asked

He chuckled “of course I have. Have you?”

“Yeah, once. Before they took me” you said.

“Only once?” He asked

“Unfortunately” you said smiling up at him “guess thats what you get for having a target on your head and forcibly trained to be an assassin. You miss out on life”

He nodded “I get that”

You wondered who he had kissed. You were a bit jealous of whoever it was, but you’d never admit it out loud.

Suddenly, you felt his grip on you tighten. Like he wanted you even closer. You wanted him closer as well. You sat up a bit, facing him. You looked at his lips, biting your own. You wanted to kiss him so bad.

“Bobby?”

“Hmm?”

“Kiss me?”

He looked at you, his eyes a bit wider than before. “You sure?”

You nodded.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours. You filled the space, your lips finally pressing against his fully. A soft sigh left your mouth.

God his lips felt good on yours. You never wanted to stop kissing him.

You didn’t.

* * * * *

You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been kissing but you didn’t care. Your face was flushed, your lips were swollen from Bob nipping at them gently, and you couldn’t breathe.

You pulled away slightly so you could both catch your breath. You smiled at him, thinking he would pull away for good and stop kissing you.

He didn’t.

He pulled you back in, holding the back of your neck. His tongue slotted between your lips and you let it. He tasted like the soda you two had been drinking and something else that you couldn’t identify, maybe something that was just unique to him. Either way you loved it.

He pulled you in even closer till you were straddling his lap.

You were enjoying yourself until you felt something beneath you. You gasped when you realized what it was.

Oh shit.

“Bobby?”

“{y/n}?”

“We um….we should stop” you said.

“What? Did I do something wrong?” He asked suddenly concerned.

“No, no. It’s just um. I um….I’ve never done that before”

“Me neither…but I want to…w-with you” he admitted.

“You do?”

“Well, yeah. But if you don’t want to we won’t” he said.

“I…I want to. I’m just nervous. I’m not experienced”

“Neither am I. We’ll figure it out together”

You smiled and nodded. Instead of saying anything else you just kissed him again.

“Wait…are we?” He mumbled against your lips

“Yes, now shut up” you said giggling as you kissed him deeply again.

As if by instinct, his hands gripped your hips and pulled you as close as he could he could get you. The kiss heated up quickly and your hands slowly creeped up his shirt.

He took the hint immediately and pulled away long enough to take it off. He looked at you and you slipped out of yours as well. You smiled at each other and leaned back in to kiss each other.

Within minutes your hands were roaming each other’s bare torsos. His hands were soft against your skin and left a trail of electricity wherever they went.

He had an amazing set of abs on him and his chest was toned. It was hard to believe that that’s what he had always been hiding behind his sweaters and t-shirts.

You started to get braver and a bit impatient. You got up off his lap and undid his jeans, pulling them off before wiggling out of your shorts. You repositioned yourself back in his lap, the only thing separating your bodies now was your underwear.

You felt his hard-on poke your thigh and you gasped. You couldn’t believe a girl like you would have that effect on him. You loved it just the same. You felt the heat pooling in your core and your breaths started becoming more rapid as your kisses got more feral and hungry. You were still nervous about the prospect of the two of you losing your virginity, but Bob’s sudden spike in confidence put you at ease.

He picked up your half naked body and carried you to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He would have locked it but there was no time, he needed you. You were a bit concerned about being caught but that thought was quickly put to rest when he pinned you to the bed.

He reached over, pulling off your underwear, then paused. “We need protection”

“No we don’t….I’m infertile” you said softly. Just like the rest of the female assassins in training you had been sterilized. It didn’t matter though, you never wanted kids anyway.

“Oh…yeah…forgot they do that to you” he said, blushing.

You smiled “it’s okay” you said pulling off his boxers.

You both looked at each other for a moment before you gave him a nod. He placed his hand on your hip while guiding himself into you with the other.

It hurt a little at first, but you adjusted. After that it started to feel amazing and you moved softly “Bobby…move” you whimpered.

He started thrusting slowly at first, then got more bold and brave when he noticed it wasn’t hurting you anymore.

“Fuck…feels so good” he groaned as he continued going.

You too became braver and flipped him over so you were on top. You tried to get into a rhythm as you moved your hips against his, eventually getting the idea of how to ride him. Apparently you were doing a good job cause he was moaning beneath you.

It turned you on even more.

You moaned as you slowly bounced on him, gasping when you felt him reach up to grab your boobs. You watched as he kneaded them in his big hands, causing you to moan louder.

That ignited a spark in him and he flipped you over again, pounding into you until you were both a moaning mess. You both quickly reached your highs at the same time and finally relaxed into each others bodies to catch your breath.

Suddenly you heard a noise, someone clearing their throat.

“You two done?” You heard Bucky ask annoyed, noticing the rest of the team standing with him in the doorway.

You were mortified.

“Awe, young love, it’s beautiful!” Alexei said loudly with a smile as he ushered everyone to leave the two of you alone again “you two be good now” he said before he left.

You blushed bright red, but eventually the two of you burst out laughing.

“Well that was unexpected” you said biting your lip.

“Worth it though” he said stroking your cheek.

“Next time we’ll try not to get caught”

“Next time?” He asked

“Oh…was this just a one time thing?” You asked

“N-no, I just didn’t think you’d want to do it again” he said, his shy side coming back again.

“Believe me, I want to do it again…and again…and again” you said smirking.

Hope you all liked my first Bob Reynolds/Lewis Pullman story!

[leaawrites]

No one's gonna tell her what I'm on about

Liam Gallagher x fem!reader

Summary: when Liam takes on a dare from his friends, he doesn't believe of finding himself making the biggest mistake in his life.

This part 1 of a series.

Warnings: swearing, lying, Liam being a player

Wordcount: 1.6k

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Masterlist

“I dare you to -”

It started simple - it really did. A shot here, a dare there and so on. Nothing too harmful, just little jokes on the bartender or the people around.

With the lights dimmed and the air in the pub growing thicker by the second, Liam could hardly tell apart what once was and what was happening right now. His friends’ words blurred together, creating a chain of sounds with no meaning behind them other than, ‘I dare you to’ and he’d do it. No matter what it was, he’d do it because in his eyes: What was shame if not loneliness? He’d still have the same people around after doing whatever and people might like him less but what did he care about them?

One of his friends looked around the room as he thought of a second part to his sentence, a challenge that would make him say “no” even when it seemed impossible for Liam to say that. It seemed like that word didn’t even exist in his vocabulary, like it was some foreign sentence he could only deny because he wasn’t aware of it’s significance and would rather go on with his day like normally.

“I dare you to,” he started again, his eyes lighting up with mischievous as they found it’s next prey. Bouncing his leg, Liam waited patiently for his task, cigarette burning down in between his fingers. Being the ‘cool guy’ made it easier, he had to admit, he was never lonely, there would always be someone around. “Go home with her.” His friend pointed somewhere into the crowd at a table.

Liam followed his finger, letting his gaze linger on all the people around until he finally found her. The girl he was dared to take with him tonight. Sat in a corner far away from them with her head hanging low over the pint in front of her eyes.

“Easy,” he mocked, starting to stand up and swagger over in his usual step.

Her eyes snapped up as soon as she saw the familiar body stand in front of her, elbows leaned on the table and a smug smirk on his face.

Liam Gallagher, a boy she only got to observe from afar in school or from her bedroom window, hanging with his friends behind one of their houses. There had never been more than a quick glance her way from his side, so why would he lean so close to her now?

“What do you want?” she asked, shifting the glass further away from her body.

“Nothing,” he casually answered. “What ya got there?” Taking the glass, he sniffed at it before taking a sip. "Eww, what’s that shite?”

“What do you care?” she asked annoyed, taking it back from his grip, brushing his fingers in the action.

“Just don’t want you having to taste something so awful.”

Without another word, Liam turned on his heel and walked towards the bar, holding up two fingers and saying something to the bartender before looking her way again, smirking at her and almost missing the moment two glasses were slid over the counter his way.

Returning to her side once more, he put one of the pints in front of her and taking the other one himself.

“What’s that now?” she asked, not quite trusting whatever he was having in mind.

“Guinness,” he answered, taking a sip himself. “Me favourite.”

“So it’s good?”

“Of course, love,” he answered, looking almost offended. “Everything I like is good.”

“Sure,” she muttered under her breath, still lifting the glass up to her lips and tasting the liquor held within. Twisting her face at the bitter taste on her tongue, coughing slightly as her taste buds took in the taste of the beer.

Liam let out a loud laugh as she put it down again, not just because of the uncomfortable crinkle in her eyes, but also the stain it left behind. Hiding his big smile behind his hand, he tried not letting it show.

“What? I can’t help that it tastes bad-”

Before she could finish her sentence, Liam shook his head and cut her off. “It’s not that, you just got-” Leaning across the table, he took the sleeve of his shirt between his fingers and gently removed the moustache she received from the foam.

She had always been an observer, never more than a candle in the back of a chandelier, now she stood under the light. Someone’s attention was only on her, making her insides churn and her heart pick up speed. Her heart aching as she lost his touch from her skin and he leaned back again, smirking at the crimson red colour creeping up on her face. Wide eyes staring back at him.

He had her now.

“You’re really sweet, you know that?”

Sweet? As if.

She scoffed, her insides falling from the pedestal they climbed on to put him there as she recognized the charming way of talking he used on one too many girls in front of her eyes to make it seem genuine and believable.

“Yeah, right.” Laughing right at his face and shaking her head in disbelief with another sip of the beer. It still tasted awful to her.

Silence settled over the table. Bottom lip sucked between his teeth, Liam looked around the room, back at his friends who were still gauging at him, waiting for them to walk out together. Waiting for a wink and smirk sent their way. Waiting for him arm over her shoulder.

A slap on the shoulder brought him back to where he was sat, some force shaking him out of his head.

“What’s up, Gallagher?” A guy he knew from his old maths class greeted him, saying a few words he didn’t quite understand but still nodded his head to. Exchanging a few words before he was off again.

“Isn’t that annoying?” she asked, taking another sip from her Guinness, the taste gradually normalizing itself to her taste buds. “Having all those people around you all the time?”

“How can that be fucking annoying?”

“Well, for starters, you never have space for yourself,” she started listing, making him roll his eyes at her posh accent. “People always surround you, which means they talk about you all the time.”

“I don’t care what people think about me,” he answered, leaning back. Acting nonchalant, and maybe he didn’t care, though she doubted it. He didn’t care what strangers thought, surely, he was way too confident for that. It were only those close enough to him that made his head reeling in conflict late at night, she supposed.

“Good and bad?”

“Don’t fucking care.”

“So, you never feel alone in a crowded room?”

It had been a feeling she felt most of her time when her friends weren’t around. Leaving her in a bar at a table, sat alone, while they were off with their boyfriends or some other guy they met, on nights like these.

“Why would I?”

“No reason, I just wondered.”

“Well, you can fuck yourself, as well as your wonderin',” he got more defensive the more she questioned him.

“I’m not the one who started talking to you, pretty boy. Maybe just turn around and go back to those friends of yours if you’re not interested in talking with me, eh?” She said, staring at him and making him understand that she wasn’t joking around with him anymore.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” The smirk crept back on his face, making her roll her eyes in disbelief. How could someone be so unbelievably relevant in his own head? A true joke, that he called her insufferable.

“One or two people have mentioned it before, yeah.”

He laughed quietly, nodding his head. His eyes trailing down her body, eyes peeking past the over-sized leather jacket she wore. Familiar words looking back at him.

“You like The Stone Roses?” he asked, looking back up at her eyes. Surprise lacing his voice.

“Of course, they’re class.” She said it like it was obvious, whereas half his friends found them to be pretentious and dumb.

He nodded, eyes swirling over her face, taking in the nervous look in her eyes and how he could see that she sucked in her cheek, biting on it. A nervous habit that had lead to her having to leave the classroom more than once because it started bleeding a lot.

“I heard you’re in a band?”

“Yeah, we’re mega. You should come see us this weekend.”

It was the best opportunity. He wouldn’t have to leave with her tonight, wouldn’t have to leave her behind in the morning and act like nothing had happened the next day. Inviting her to a gig and telling his mates that was his date made it easier for both of them.

He didn’t mind going home with different girls on different nights, though something about her told him that this wouldn’t just be one night and done if he started with it.

Without giving him an answer, she continued, “How did you get into music anyway. I mean, you never seemed interested in it at school.”

“Got me a hammer thrown on the head and ta-da, I’ve become a Rock star.” Pointing to the place where the scar was still visible when you look close enough.

“Those bellends truly gave you a future the day you could’ve died,” she said, remembering seeing him laying on the grass with his head bleeding. “It looked pretty scary though.”

“You stalking me or summat?”

“My bed is looking out the window, so I see almost everything happening in front of my house. You just happen to be standing there most of the time, so maybe you’re the stalker.”

“Maybe I am.”

[most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer]

Good Omens: Lockdown and Crowley not mentioning his living situation in S2*

*till S2E6 when he asks if he can have his apartment back bc he's bored of living in his car but Aziraphale doesn’t hear bc mentally he’s in Alpha Centauri.

Having read the 'Crowley doesn't tell him' Neil Gaiman ask close to when I first listened to Lockdown (I lived under a rock until recently), my initial thought was HAS HE BEEN LIVING IN HIS CAR FOR YEARS?! but I think he was still in his apartment in 2020:

as far as Hell knows, Crowley just had a pool party in holy water (the holiest) so the higher-ups are probably willing to give him some space (plus Beelzebub is busy going on pub dates w Gabriel)

while there should be ~8 months between the end of Season 1 events (The Very First Day of the Rest of Their Lives on Sunday, Aug 25, 2019) and the Lockdown phonecall (on or near the 30 year anniversary on May 1, 2020), I can't imagine that's a very long time for Hell, especially if you're understaffed and busy dealing with fallout from Almostgeddon / going on pub dates

Shax dropping off mail and asking about the boiler seems like something one does in the first few months of living somewhere, not ~3 years in (if S2 is in 2023)

That said, I think the phone call underlines why Crowley never directly tells Aziraphale that he is living in the Bentley in S2, and it's just a great conversation (all hail Gaiman) sooo I wrote about it:

***Note: This post analyzes the Lockdown phonecall from Crowley's perspective only. Our heroine is feeling quite emotionally vulnerable at this point in time so things are going to hit him harder than they normally would.

I do not think Aziraphale meant to cause him pain (!!) but Crowley can't see that yet and I've written this post in a way that reflects that missing insight. (I explain in more detail in this reblog if you are interested) I am working on a companion post for Aziraphale's side of this conversation and how I think it affects his behavior in S2 because if we know anything about these two, it's that their exactlys are different exactlys.***

Crowley’s habit of sleeping to skip time like an RPG character by a campfire amuses me to no end, but in this context it feels heavy. Crowley already worries about losing time with what he loves and he probably hoped things would be different between him and Aziraphale after the events of S1. But things don’t change much. Then lockdowns start, and Crowley is trapped in his apartment alone, transcendentally bored, and unable to make his brain shut up. Sleeping a month away starts to sound less awful.

But Crowley hasn’t given up yet; he’s still awake when Aziraphale calls, and he’s even giving it two more days. Was he waiting for Aziraphale to call? Is it even possible not to at least kind of wait for someone’s call when you are cut off from everything and the caller has been your only friend and crush for millennia?

Aziraphale asks why Crowley isn't "out and about" tempting people or setting a bad example and he responds:

C: Everyone's so miserable and cooped up right now anyway, and I just… well… don't have the heart for it. A: *glowing audibly* I'm not miserable~ C: Really?

Crowley sounds genuinely surprised at Aziraphale's happiness and quickly assumes it's because the angel has been around people. He's so lonely/depressed/in his own head that he hadn't even considered someone enjoying being 'cooped up'. *sob*

Aziraphale goes No actually I put the closed sign up in the window and I'm having the Time of My Life, never had so few customers, not in 200 years!, etc. Although, he says:

A: …There were a few young lads a couple of nights ago who broke in through the back and tried to steal the cashbox! But they soon saw the error of their ways~ C: *clearly amused* Did you smite them with your wroth? A: Well I certainly gave them a good talking to, and I sent each of them home with cake~ C: *annoyed, swooning* Cake? A: Quite a lot of cake, actually. C: *physically ill from having such a giant crush on this dumbass baker/security guard* eeeekkkgghhh I'm gonna regret asking but.. ...rrgh.. *30 seconds of Aziraphale joyfully describing his baking while Crowley probably tries very hard not to imagine the angel eating each item in sensual slow motion* I stg you can hear him struggling in the background once or twice

A: …And once I've baked them, I have to eat them all myself, which was why I was so delighted— C: To send your burglars home laden with baked goods, yes, nnyeaayeah I follow…

Crowley interrupts, finishing Aziraphale's sentence in his nervous hurry to say the next bit:

C: *loud inhale* You know, I could.. hunker down at your place. … Slither over and watch you eat cake. I could bring a bottle--a case of… something… drinkable…?

He's trying to sound so casual about it but this is someone who was rejected/abandoned by actual literal God after asking what he thought were welcome, uncontroversial questions. Asking makes him vulnerable. He's supposed to be the rescuer, not a demon in distress. He does not feel casual about asking.

Crowley knows it's unlikely but he's so miserable and desperate for company that he can't help but ask, just in case. Even the smallest chance of spending time trapped indoors with Aziraphale—with nothing to do but drink, watch him eat, and talk about things they'd normally avoid—is too tempting.

A: *panicking* Oh I— I— I— I— I'm afraid that would be Breaking All The Rules! *nervous breathing* Out of the question! I'll see you… when this is over. C: Right. gnnehh. I'm setting the alarm clock for July. Good night, angel. *dial tone*

And just like that, Crowley doesn't need two days to decide. The depression nap doubles in length. He doesn't hear how badly Aziraphale wants to say yes behind the fear, or maybe he does and it hurts worse because why isn't Crowley enough for him? You can almost hear the spiralling:

SHOCKING, asking made it worse. It always does doesn’t it? Why even bother? you just embarrass yourself.. SLITHER over? why did I say that *grumble grumble* of COURSE His Holy Holiness, your only friend in the universe, would rather eat cake by himself while everything goes to shit than ~deign~ to have you in his presence. "AsK aND yE sHaLl ReCeIvE" bugger this for a lark im going to bed

(a bit dramatic but we've all been there)

I imagine sleep doesn't come right away. Maybe his thoughts drift to when he sat beside the angel at a dark Tadfield bus stop after a rather eventful Saturday. Crowley must've felt a tiny bit hopeful when he invited Aziraphale to stay with him: Heaven had withdrawn its favor and the bookshop was gone; Aziraphale was like him now. Didn't that mean things would change?

"I don't think my side would like that." Apparently not.

In the end, Aziraphale did ride the bus back to Crowley's apartment and stayed till the next morning when he caught a cab, but only to sell the illusion. Crowley understood that as far as sides went, the angel was still on Heaven's, even if Heaven wasn't on his.

And now this: the entire world is shut down; there is nothing for Aziraphale to do but stay in and read and bake in his magically reconstituted bookshop and he still won't invite Crowley in. Burglars and un-fallen angels only—nobody who asks questions.

So... of course Crowley doesn't tell Aziraphale when he loses his apartment. He already knows what answer he would get; the angel has told him so many times. Aziraphale is a company man first, a companion to one very sad owl when convenient.

If Crowley works up the courage to say 'please take me in, I have nowhere else to go' and Aziraphale goes 'sorry, no, far too political, but I WILL risk being erased from the Book of Life to protect this nude amnesiac former coworker who always hated me,' it's going to be too much. You can't sleep long enough for that type of hurt to go away. Better not to say anything.

"Then nothing has to change, does it?"

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Are my parents and I the assholes for insinuating that my aunt and uncle's dog should be put down?

I (21F) hate one of my aunt and uncle's current dogs. They rescue old racing dogs and have done for like 15 years now. Their first two dogs I loved. First one was a bitch in both senses of the word, but she was funny and well behaved when it was important. Second one was a true gentle giant and a lovely boy. The second pair they've adopted though are a nightmare.

Alice, the current bitch they have, has suffered some form of trauma in her past. There are three years missing from her medical history and she's got some scars, so we'll never know exactly what happened but something did. She's a very nervous dog. She can be a sweetie, and they were making progress with her until they got the new one. Alice, however, does what more dominant dogs around her do, which has become a problem.

Enter Blue. Blue is genuinely dangerous. Blue snaps with no previous warning and tries to kill things. My family all know about dogs, this isn't us misreading his body language, he is giving no warning then going for the throat. He's taken a particular dislike to mum (who is usually a bit of a dog whisperer) and has got her in the hand a few times. Blue also tries to kill any dog who doesn't share his breed. We were in a restaurant, sitting outside, Blue saw a Beagle and before any of us could do anything he'd pulled my uncle backwards off of his chair and dragged him towards this poor dog. My uncle is a big man, 6" and not thin, so you can imagine the strength it took for Blue to drag him like a doll (the Beagle and owner got away DW).

I've disliked Blue for a while, but what made me actually hate him was that, when my aunt and uncle came to see us just after our own elderly dog had passed, Blue walked into our sitting room and pissed on the carpet. He's house trained and has never done this before. I think he was doing it territorially because he could smell that our dog was dead. I've never wanted to kick an animal before, but I did then and had to excuse myself before I caused a scene.

Cut to yesterday. We were in the pub having a family meal. Blue is muzzled now in public after the last restaurant incident. There was a family sitting across the room from us with a very little girl, 3 or 4 years old I'd say. She was looking at Alice and trying to get her attention from across the room. As her mum got up to take her to the toilet, the girl pointed at our table and asked to see the dogs. Her mum asked us if it was okay. My aunt agreed. The little girl came over. Alice immediately hid under the table.

My aunt was like "ooh sorry, she's shy, why don't you say hello to Blue".

Blues head pops up. The mum sees he's wearing a muzzle and tries to pull her daughter away from him but the kid was too quick and went to pat him on the head. He was super chill with it, pressed into her palm like he wanted harder pets, then with no warning growl, no tensed up body language, nothing, just lunges for the kid.

Obviously she's terrified. The mum is terrified and pulls her away. My uncle grabs hold of Blue's leash and my aunt is ineffectually going "oh no blue bad boy" over and over. My parents jumped up to help the mum and the little girl. I grabbed Alice so she couldn't start copying Blue. We all got kicked out of the pub.

We were standing on the street outside when my parents and I started laying into my aunt about how irresponsible that was. She is like "he'll never become accustomed to humans if he's locked away". Dad shouted that he doesn't get to maul someone to learn that lesson. She scoffed and said he had the muzzle. I said it takes one piece of brittle plastic before he gets put down. My aunt told us all to fuck off and stormed off in the opposite direction. My uncle took Alice from me and followed her.

My aunt made a passive aggressive series of Facebook posts about how all dogs deserve care, and how everyone lashes out when exposed to trauma, then blocked mum (only Facebook user in our house).

I don't think we're the assholes, but I know I'm very biased, because I genuinely hate that dog and would be quite happy to hear it had moved on, whether that be to a different home or the afterlife, I'm not picky.

So awta?

What are these acronyms?

[crsssie]

cressie's archive : drafts/unposted

here is EVERY SINGLE UNFINISHED DEVELOPED DRAFT I have :3

Danganronpa

cruel summer // wrecked at sea

The setting sun paints you in red, the image terrifying yet so comforting to the boy. You look like the devil. Komaeda hears the sound of the boat approaching the dock in the background. "I'll see you in five years, Komaeda."

prom queen // ultimate pageant queen reader

Servant watches, heart heavy, mind a mess. That was supposed to be him. He's supposed to be the one to serve you. He feels you had taken what he said personally. It wasn't like he was wrong, but maybe he did need to apologize for not taking your emotions seriously.

white (lies) // eating disorder

You despise the taste of food on your lips, yet you lie to Teruteru about how delicious his cooking was. Komaeda hates people like you

(untitled) // yokai au // dead dove do not eat

Komaeda sighs as he turns into a human, and he grumbles. He didn't want to hex the area, but if he's going to have to find you, then so be it. If you die because of some unfortunate accident again, he's going to kill himself for real this time. 

and baby when it's love if it's not rough it isn't fun // pt of gambling au

Komaeda works to pay back that debt. Would you still pick him if he wasn't yours by force?

gold // isekaied reader

Chiaki clings onto you, unsure as to why you ran so fast, yet she spots her classmates rushing after you while you run. She sees the interest that flashes across Kamukura's face. She notices the ragged breath you run downhill with. Chiaki doesn't know what you're so scared of; yet, as you slam the door behind you, breath ragged, tears streaming, Chiaki thinks she knows.

(untitled) // future foundation ultimate god reader

Hinata is right. You don't like the look you took to be in the foundation. It crawls at your skin uncomfortably, and it looks nothing like how you were supposed to look. What happened to your hair? Your face? Your skin and limbs? You miss when you never took a form.

from elysium, with love // hades game au

With a spin of your robe, you're gone. Hinata stares at where you once were, and he does wonder how you do what you do. The incarnate of death. Hinata liked the cold of death. Your touch was welcome on his warm skin, even more so to his legs which burn of the lakes of Tartarus. The touch of death was welcome to him.

hype boy // food vlogger + college // dual pov fic

while vlogging at the newest cafe on campus, you pay Hinata $15 to bite and record him swallowing the coffee puck. He goes viral as a result.

DC

was it real or just for show? // engaged

You fly out because Tim Drake doesn't care for you anyway. Why is he so adamant about finding you if he doesn't give a shit and returns late all the time?

i want you for worse or for better // mercenary + royal

First Prince Dick Grayson has just had his engagement broken. That very night, he shows up at the pub you work at, drowning out his sorrows in enough liquor to kill an elephant

Red 19 // gambling + casino

Coin in your hand and wealth given to the neighborhood, you wonder if Red Hood is truly as unbreakable as everyone makes him out to be.

"Let's get married" // arranged marriage + soulmates // COMPLETED

When Tim's soulmate is slapped at a Wayne Gala, it seems natural that he should abuse soulmate laws and force them out of their abusive house. Too bad you're adamant about killing yourself.

High school, hi school // high school

Damian only knows you as the other artist in his class. When he crashes into your apartment on accident mid-fight, he worries you'll speak up on it. You don't, and when he turns you down at graduation, the story is supposed to end there.

surface, subface // hades game au

Tim doesn't remember why he still breaks out when his mother is already home? What is it? What is he missing? Why is there an aide managing mother's cottage now?

to live, to love, to lie // metahuman reader

You spend most of your time partying. Being overstimulated and numb was better than being understimulated and numb. A walking phonebook. A walking encyclopedia. Kon finds you partying one night, and one look is all he needs to grab you.

you're not mine // exes au

Tim never got to tell you he was Red Robin when you were dating, so he takes advantage of that and visits your art studio at night to hang out. Nevermind the fact that he was in the middle of divorce processions with his wife or whatever.

Tears of Themis

emerald green // arranged marriage

Years ago, Vyn remembers the feeling of his hand in yours, and both of you are unhappy. In current day, he navigates the murky waters of his feelings for you with you back with him.

Lovebrush Chronicles / For All Time

lion // high school au

When Lars transfers to your school, his flamboyancy evokes eyes from everyone — Including you. You long to be free like him.

Resident Evil / Biohazard

red means i love you // mutual stalking

"Almost forgot you." You grab the teddy, holding it by the hand as you turn it to face the wall in the bathroom. "I still don't appreciate you watching me and not letting me see you, y'know, Ada?" You start the shower, feeling for it as you huff. "What's the fun in sending you lego roses each day with cameras inside if you only keep them at your counter?"

the dead haunt the dead // government agent + plagas

"Are you here to finally kill me?" You stare at Leon, same plagas scars on your face, eyes now the same color as Saddler's prior to his death. Leon can't pull the trigger.

(untitled) // medieval knight Leon // COMPLETED

The fire crackles in your eyes, ashes burning and shattering as you stare, words tumbling out of your heart, eyes weary with an age that should not be possible to you. You look both wounded and aged. Leon has only ever seen those eyes on the men who live til sixty, white visible in both their hair and eyes, old age consuming them until they are a shell of their previous self. You should not be capable of such emotion.

american dream // Nouveau Riche + Gatsby 1920s Leon

Leon Scott Kennedy lacks nothing. A pool the size of Lake Michigan, a tennis court the size of an acre, a bathroom the size of a factory. Leon Scott Kennedy lacks nothing.

Call of Duty

signed puck: signed, luck // Hockey AU Simon Riley

He wants a minx? You'll give him one.

Hades Game

son of apollo, lover of none

Ion is in your care, and Apollo begs that you stay

Love and Deepspace

frost and flame

ice that pierces the heart, power that kills the bone, is that truly all there is for the two of you? is it really a sin for Zayne to love someone more than your god?

siblings (or dating) // college au

You're crashing Caleb's dorm + crashing out over his muscles. Someone put you on the siblings or dating show. would someone kill you for saying siblings AND dating?

the show must go on // fake dating au

Caleb's employing your help to lower his pretty little childhood friend slash little sister's walls to get back into her life after he made the mistake of confessing. It's a shame that all of this make believe is actually fake

No promises any of this gets finished but this is for anyone who's ever been curious abt how much shit ends up in the graveyard also feel free to leave a comment or ask if u really want me to finish smth from this list bc like everything here is alr like 2k+ words