#i think buns art will still continue to inspire me

[thegoldenduckie]

Silly anxceit

[vexation-816]

Hello it is I, random anon who does not know you and has never interacted with you before, what is your opinion of your mutuals?

Byxell. I know this is you but I gonna still answer this question notheless.

Anyways my opinion on my mutuals. Well where do I start?

@rabid-mercenary16

Firstly, there's the 'Greyscale Jester' Rabid. One of the first people that Ive interacted on here. She's a comedic, funny, creative, and an enjoyable person to talk to in general. When I first started on here I didn't think I would get noticed with my art but I started drawing out her characters and her and Glitchy being one of the first people to like my stuff. In the beginning I was honestly happy that people were liking the stuff I posted and shared on here. She and the others are just a big reminder to me of how I matter and just a funny person to be around I really to the bottom of my heart appreciate them for that. You're an amazing person Rabid. Don't you ever forget that.

@moshieee

Secondly, there's the adhd buddy of mine Moshie. Who cannot like this lovable person. They're one of the second traditional artists that Ive interacted with on here and Ive just enjoyed interacting with them for this entire time. They're an absolute funny, creative and amazing person to talk to in general. Ever since we started to talk more we'd just be rambling about our characters and ideas for hours and I just love their personality overall and they've just been an inspiration for me to keep going. You're an amazing person Moshie. Don't you ever forget that.

@bunnybunnsowo

Thirdly, there's the fluffy bunny friend Bun. He's a funny and creative person to talk about ideas with and they're just funny in general. I haven't talked to them until I started doing stuff for the Mafia AU and when I first talked with them they seemed like a very kind and lovable person to talk to and Im just glad that Ive been able to be friends with them and talk with them. Your amazing Bun. Don't you ever forget that.

@unfunnyaceartist

Next there's the cuphead fanatic Ace. I honestly haven't talked to her as much but she's honestly a very nice and funny person. She's very creative with what she does and they are just an amazing person to talk to in general. She's a very comedic person to talk to about Cuphead and other topics about the game. You matter Ace and don't you ever forget that.

@bixell-pixell

Next there's the robotic pal Bixell. They're a pretty creative and chill person in general. She's pretty funny and creative when it comes to the stuff that they do. Ive done 3D Modeling in the past and Im glad I found another person that takes interest in modeling. Overall they're a cool and funny person to talk to and Im glad that Im able to talk to them.

@dia-smthidk

Now we have 'The Prince' Dia. He's a pretty comedic person to talk with and they're just very creative in general. I remember that they were one of the first few people Ive started to interact with and their AU and they are just a funny person to talk to. Even when the mood is brought down they always manage to persevere. You're an amazing person Dia. Don't forget that. Make sure to take care of yourself.

@lilithloves-you

Now we catch up to Lilith. I honestly never had the chance to talk to Lilith but from what Ive seen she's a pretty nice and funny person to talk to in general. Im sorry if there's barely anything here I just haven't been able to talk to ya but your a very amazing and creative individual and don't forget that.

@glitchyk

Im not sure if Glitch will see this but I will type one out for them anyways. She is honestly a funny, creative, nice, and overall just an amazing person in general. They were always that little voice of motivation that just encouraged me to continue with traditional art and were just there for me whenever I was having a bad day or down to my lowest. I honestly do miss them to the bottom of my heart and I hope they are doing well at the moment.

@neptunestoast

Lastly, we have the Blob, Neptune. Ive seen them around here a few times before but never gotten a chance to talk to them. But when they got invited to the Sona Mafia server they are just a wholesome, funny and creative person to talk to. When I first saw their art style I was shocked on how good it was and was just thinking 'Why is this individual so underrated?!?" But still Neptune your an amazing person dude. Don't forget that.

Im sorry if some of my writing seems repetitive. Im not the best writer out there but I genuinely mean it when I say that you all are amazing people and Im just happy that I got to be able to interact with ya'll.

To the bottom of my heart. Thank you guys for just liking the stuff Ive done and just being like rays of hope and inspiration throughout my time on here. I appreciate you guys. I really do.

[peonys-journal]

Author POV

Being a college student— stress and sleep deprivation was something common in her life.

Her days consisted of class, work and sleep. But every so often she’d sneak into the the campus art studio to unhinge herself.

Socializing wasn’t something she enjoyed and an empty art room is just what she needed to fully free herself from her tensions.

Every paint stroke was a release for her and every color was what she heavily carried inside itching to burst out.

Grabbing a hair tie from her bag she quickly pulled her hair into a messy bun.

Once she began to reach for her brushes the sound of the door opening made her jolt falling backwards.

Slowly sitting up, the sight of the person in front of her had her heart racing.

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

His beautiful dark brown eyes captivated her.

It was Jimin, the dreamy art major.

She’d seen him before around campus, every girl fawned over him and who could blame them.

“Um- Uh, y-yes-“

he chuckled at her stuttering.

Standing he extended his hand helping her up.

“I didn’t expect anyone to be here this late.”

Shying away from his words, she went back to her easel.

Giving her a confused look he followed behind her.

Noticing, she nervously spoke.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Ah, so she speaks.” He said with a boyish grin.

Not wanting to embarrass herself further she quickly began to pack up her stuff.

“I-I’ll go.” She was about to walk passed him when his hand gently grasped her wrist.

“Wait, is your name Y/n by any chance?”

Hearing her name, she immediately stopped.

“Hmm, I’ll take that as a yes?”

She turned keeping her gaze down.

“H-how did you-“ not letting her finish he walked towards the class storage taking out an art piece.

Her art piece.

“I found this a while ago on one of the easels.”

“Oh Im sor- “ once again he cut her off.

“It seems a bit plain for my taste.”

His comment earning a frown on her part.

“Well excuse me if my art isn’t to your liking.”

She said with a hint of irritation as she took the painting from his hands.

Laughing he leaned down meeting her eyes.

“You’re just missing a bit of inspiration that’s all .”

His sudden action making her blush immensely.

“Art should be spontaneous and fun. Something that makes you think out of the box and wonder how the artist felt while making this.”

She looked up towards him with a curious stare. Although painting helped her distress, she never paid much attention to what her art actually represented.

Then again, her life was as simple as her painting. It didn’t have much to say.

Jimin had made way to the storage once more, taking out art supplies.

Taking one step forward she asked.

“W-what do you suggest I do?”

Her question making him stop and look around as if searching for the answer himself.

Until finally he spoke.

“What canvases have you used?”

Skeptical with his question she looked at the one in her hands.

“Umm, normal ones?”

Laughing he continued.

“A change of canvas makes a difference in ones perspective. Start there.”

Seeing her still confused expression he grabbed two stools and placed one next to her.

“Grab your brushes and then come and sit.”

Nodding she did as he said.

As she turned to walk back, she saw him pull off his shirt tying it to his waist.

“W-what are you d-doing?!”

Unbothered he simply sat and responded.

“Changing your canvas. Now hurry and come.”

Hesitantly she approached the stool he had placed for her.

She couldn’t help but stare intently at his bare back.

“H-how will this h-help?”

“Im going to be your canvas.”

Her face began to warm up at his words.

Not arguing with him, she decided to sit and fight her natural instinct of hiding.

[twohundredpower]

When Kay pulled out her staff, laying it out for Lloyd to examine, there was a moment where his excited smile suddenly dwindled into something darker; a frown pulling his previously upturned lips downwards, as the night at the art gallery replayed in his head, clear as day.

"Yeah. I remember him." Even though it wasn't actually him, the mirror image of Kay's grandfather had still hurt the girl immensely; the way she cried that night forever burned in his memory. Absentmindedly, a hand fell towards his stomach; brushing against the surface of his jacket.

Still, Kay held all of Lloyd's attention as she continued, and while she spoke, he couldn't help but feel a sweeping pride wash over him at her words. In the three years that Lloyd had been in Spirale, the little girl before him had changed so much; sometimes, he couldn't believe that she was still so young, that her infinite wisdom didn't somehow make her grow older quicker than the rest of them. Though no one should have experienced what she had gone through at her age, he knew that it was her experiences that led her to think this way; the people in her life that showed her how much she was worth, how she deserved a life of happiness, no matter who tried to tell her otherwise in her past. Her fathers, he knew, played a significant role in doing that; but a lot of it was Kay realizing it for herself.

She was worthy of a weapon she didn't have to earn. To not have to live up to the expectations of someone who barely looked at her like she was her own person. Kay was who she wanted to be now, living the life she deserved to-- and hearing that she wanted to be like him, to be brave and kind to all around her, made Lloyd feel more honoured than he could ever put into words.

The smile had come back to his features, though this time remained gentle, softer than it had before. Silently, Lloyd rounded the front desk of the forge, kneeling before Kay before he pulled her into a hug.

"You don't have to try and be like me, Kay. You're already a good person, and you're braver than anyone else I know. I think that's something you'll always be a natural at, even as you get older."

He pulled away, just enough to raise one of his hands to ruffle the top of her head; careful not to mess up her buns too much.

"You've given me strength when I needed it, you've made me smile so hard-- sometimes enough to make my cheeks hurt--" He laughed a bit at that, easily able to recall all the good memories they shared together. "-- and you've never left my side, no matter what we've gone through. I know your dads are proud to have you as a daughter, and I'll always feel the same way about you being apart of my family-- so now, I'll make a weapon for you that makes you just as proud of me!"

Without warning, Lloyd suddenly scooped Kay into his arms; hoisting her up to sit on one of his shoulders.

"But if I'm gonna do that, then I'm gonna need some inspiration! C'mon-- let's head over to the drawing table! You can show me everythin' you've ever imagined for your own staff and help me bring it to life!"

Her face lights up as soon as she realizes he's taking her seriously. Part of her knew he would, but this is important to her. She wanted to make sure she did it right!

She draws the staff from her back, placing it on the counter. It's well made, but it's clearly old, and has seen better days. Not to mention the wear at the bottom from it dragging on the ground as she walked. And no wonder-- there's no way a staff meant for a grown man would fit well for a young girl. At first, Kay thought about asking him to repair it, but...

"This is the staff I use now," she says. "I got it from my grandpa. You remember him, right?" A grimace as she remembers that night in the museum. Her statement is carefully worded; it was his, but he never gave it to her. For practically her whole life, she's been dragging a weapon around that she stole.

"Grandpa said it would be mine someday. When I took over the family 'legacy' or whatever." Her ears droop, and she sighs. "That's what I thought I wanted, so when he died, I took it. I wanted him to be proud of me, but I knew I never earned it. I thought if I could just work hard enough, I could still be worthy to carry it someday."

But lately, things have been different, haven't they? She's spent so much time away from him now. With her parents, and her friends, with Lloyd, with all of the wonderful people she's met here. They're the ones who believe in her. More and more she's come to realize that she doesn't care what Grandpa would say anymore, or whether she's earned the staff she carries.. Not when she's found her own group of people that love her for who she is now.

"This staff doesn't really fit me. It never did, but I never wanted to believe it. It's too big, and too clumsy," she shows it off with a few practice swings. She's obviously practiced with it, but her movements would be much faster if she used a weapon that was lighter, and smaller; something made for her. That's what she's asking for, isn't it?

"I want a weapon that's really truly mine. And one that I don't have to worry about earning. All that stuff Grandpa wanted me to be... I don't want that anymore. I get to choose what I want! And I want to grow up to be brave and nice like you, Lloyd!" She looks up at him, eyes practically sparkling.

"That's why I want you to be the one to make it! You've always believed in me no matter what, so I just know you can make something that fits for me! I know it!

[volkswagonblues]

a lil guide to the Fire Nation for the ATLA fic writers out there

(aka. a no means exhaustive primer on east asia by an asian person)

This is a guide for fic writers want to write a canon-era story set in the Fire Nation, or featuring Fire Nation characters. A quick little primer on the tiny details of everyday life that you might not think about, but certainly stuff that would make me, an asian person, wince if I were to encounter it. BRUSHES, not quills. CHOPSTICKS, not forks. 

(note #1: this was partly inspired by a chat with @elilim​) 

(note: #2:  I originally intended it for zukka fic writers before realizing that other writers might find it useful. so apologies for a slight Zuko-bias for that reason)

(note #3: this is all stuff i was thinking about when writing firebender’s guide, in case anyone was wondering)

1. CLOTHING

Okay, I think the most straightforward way to describe what everyone’s wearing most of the time is “tunic”. They’re all just...tunics of different colours and varieties. Later when Zuko’s the Fire Lord he wears robes. The show provides a better visual guide than I could, here are a few notes to keep in mind:

a) Japanese people wear their collars LEFT crossed over RIGHT

I don’t think this would come up in writing as much as it would in art, but it’s considered bad luck to do it the wrong way because that’s only for dead people. Let my boy Zuko demonstrate:

b) There are no buttons

This is picky, but Wikipedia says “Functional buttons with buttonholes for fastening or closing clothes appeared first in Germany in the 13th century.[6] They soon became widespread with the rise of snug-fitting garments in 13th- and 14th-century Europe.” I kinda believe it. If you look closely, characters’ clothes are always tied together or wrapped in some way with a belt. If there are fasteners, they’re braided frog closures that go into a little loop, like the qipao-style dresses women wear in Ba Sing Se, or Zuko’s casual prince’s clothes in the topmost image. Anyways, I don’t think Zuko or Azula or the Gaang would technically button or unbutton anything when they’re changing clothes. Clothing is designed to be tied, not buttoned.

[so much more under cut]

c) This isn’t a real rule, but there’s something called koromogae, or the seasonal changing of clothing in Japan.

This is something I learned when I was writing firebender’s guide, and I just liked the fun detail about there being a strict calendar for when to wear something. I liked the idea of someone like Zuko, who actually spent most of his formative years outside of the Fire Nation, coming home and just suffering mutely through the summer heat because upper class etiquette says no changing into cooler clothes until August 15. 

From My Asakusa: 

And this website:

Generally, people change from thick, heavy, dark-coloured clothes for winter to thin, lighter, bright-coloured clothes for spring and summer. In traditional Japanese culture, particularly in formal settings such as tea ceremony, it is important to acknowledge the changes of seasons—in such circumstances, not only the patterns and colours of the kimono that are worn but also the utensils and furniture that are used are required to change. By changing their clothing, people notice and appreciate the change of seasons. [Japan Foundation]

Here are some visual guides from the official creators for clothes: (notice how it’s pretty much always left over right)

2.FOOD AND EATING

a) Traditional cuisine

It seems like the most common foods in canon are Fire Flakes and meat, to the point where poor Aang had to eat lettuce out of the garbage at some point.

HOWEVER, the Fire Nation seems to basically a big subtropical archipelago, so I would guess that seafood and rice are common. If you want to write about characters eating, a. quick google for “traditional japanese cuisine” would help you come up with a menu really quickly.

Wikipedia says:

The traditional cuisine of Japan, washoku (和食), lit. "Japanese eating" (or kappō (ja:割烹)), is based on rice with miso soup and other dishes; there is an emphasis on seasonal ingredients. Side dishes often consist of fish, pickled vegetables, and vegetables cooked in broth. Seafood is common, often grilled, but also served raw as sashimi or in sushi.

But before we get too serious, at one point the Gaang eats a “smoked sea slug” (Sokka’s Master) 

Oh ATLA, never stop being you.

b) Utensils

One thing to keep in mind is chopstick etiquette. Someone like Zuko or Toph, for instance, would have completely internalized all of these.

Another thing is that there are no glasses. Cups and bowls are made of ceramic or clay. Let the Gaang show you:

And another note: characters won’t eat “bread” in the European sense, ie. a baked lump of dough. Steamed buns, yes. Fried pancakes made from batter, yes. Flatbreads, okay I’ll give it a pass. Rice or noodles should be the most common carbs of choice.

3.ETIQUETTE

“In the homeland, we bow to our elders” - angry schoolmistress in The Headband.

Japan Guide has a list of etiquette rules for visiting Japan, which is interesting but not too necessary to read. In general, based on what The Headband tells us, Fire Nation characters would have been raised with a strong nationalist curriculum that values communal contribution over individualist expression. Even someone like Zuko, who openly rebels against that, probably couldn’t help but be affected by it. In general the Fire Nation seems to have an East Asian-ish set of values. It’s patriarchal, all the positions of authority are filled by men; there seems to be a strong emphasis on patriotism; there’s a sense of diffidence and respect towards one’s elders; and finally, there’s an emphasis on “knowing” one’s place in society and fitting into what’s expected of oneself.

I don’t really know how to describe it, but in China and Japan I sometimes feel like there’s rules for everything, and even people born and raised there acknowledge it could be stifling at times. You could go down a rabbit hole researching points of etiquette (for instance, rules on who has to sit where in group dinners...), but to me the most important thing is acknowledging that Fire Nation has a rigid system of etiquette, and also, they’re an imperialist power who’s pretty prejudiced against foreigners. Poor Aang/Kuzon gets called “mannerless colony slob” just for being slow on the bowing action (!!!)

(in firebender’s guide I had a lot of fun imagining the stupid microaggressions Ambassador Sokka has to face in the Fire Nation, so obviously I’m just biased)

4.WRITING AND DESKS

Characters would probably write on paper, with a calligraphy brush. Not quills or pens -- a brush. Technically, old Japanese and Chinese texts should be written top to bottom, right to left, but the show itself doesn’t do this, so I think you’re fine. 

One fun thing about traditional calligraphy is that you don’t use bottled ink. You have something called an ink stone, and then you grind your ink yourself by rubbing the ink stone in a special little dish with a bit of water. In my (very few) encounters with this stuff in the calligraphy lessons of my youth, the ink stones can be plain or have beautiful designs on the side. It looks something like this: 

ATLA is an East Asian-ish universe, so characters are likely to be kneeling at a table, not sitting. To demonstrate, here’s my boy Sokka doing his famous rainbow at Piandao’s:

and here’s the war chamber meeting when Zuko speaks out against a general’s plans to sacrifice some soldiers:

THERE ARE EXCEPTIONS: This is Zuko’s cute little setup when he’s writing his goodbye letter to Mai. In this case he’s writing in a chair and table. It’s possible that some furniture items, like a sitting desk and a bed in a bedframe (not a bedroll or futon) are special royal palace features. Normally in a private setting we see characters sitting on the ground or on a slightly elevated platform with a low table. Maybe Caldera is just different? Or rich people are just different: the Bei Fongs also have a sit-down dining table + chair setup.

(That little rectangular box is his ink dish!!)

5.A NOTE ON GENERAL CULTURE

It’s worth talking about a few general points of East Asian culture. I can’t claim to speak for ALL of Asia, and I don’t think I should. But I do think ATLA fic writers who want to set something in the Fire Nation should take a few moments to at least skim the wiki pages for filial piety and Nihonjinron (literally, "theories/discussions about the Japanese"). There’s a certain...vibe to...asianness... that I’m not sure I can explain without like, a doctorate degree in sociology. 

It’s a bit like gender, I guess. There’s no definitive checklist to what is a woman and what is a man, and we can argue that gender is performative, that it’s a construct, but at the end of the day gender is still (tragically) real in the sense that it still shapes people and affects how we walk and talk and dress and think. Nationality is the same. Obviously, the Fire Nation is a made up place in a made up show, but out of respect to the cultures that inspired it, I do think it’s worth familiarizing yourself with some of these cultures’ codes and values.

Also, ahem, if I can direct you to war crimes in the Japan’s colonial empire. Again, worth remembering that the Fire Nation was an imperalist colonizer too.

I might do a continuation of this post and talk through my more abstract takes about Fire Nation culture - Is Zuko an example of filial piety gone right or filial piety gone wrong? Why I think Zuko’s flashbacks are like, at least part teenage melodrama bullshit (the reason is son preference), how someone like Sokka might be treated once he’s openly Water Tribe in the Fire Nation (probably with racism...), specific aspects of asian homophobia and racism, etc. We’ll see.

This is not a definitive guide. Comments and critique welcome.

If you think there’s a factual mistake, PLEASE hop in my asks and let me know. I also think there’s a huge blind spot in ATLA for South and Southeast Asian representation, so I acknowledge that I can’t speak for all Asians, and there is no such thing as a “pan-asian” identity.

If there’s something else you’re curious about, I’m not a historian or anything, but I like research. Ask me and I’ll try to answer the best I can.

And oh, one last thing, this is how I do research when I wrote firebender’s guide, in case anyone’s interested in learning more (LINK)

[blinderspeaky]

Amoret | Tommy Shelby

A/n: So this is my first piece of writing here and I apologise if it's too long! idk how accurate this is but I had fun writing it so that's all that matters I guess

Cora is going through a dry spell because everyone is too scared to make a move on her because of her best friend, Thomas Shelby, so he takes matters into his own hands -- literally.

Word count: 23,450

"I can't believe you did that." I flirtatiously giggle as if I didn't have to scrub my hands raw to get rid of the blood from the gory mess that happened just a few hours prior.

"I needed to get out somehow, I just didn't realise I was trashing hundreds of pounds worth of art." The handsome stranger laughs, leaning into me as we get more familiar and comfortable with each other.

"Terrible, just terrible." I smile fondly, my red lipstick gleaming at him as I fiddle with my fruity cocktail.

"I must say, you have the most gorgeous smile, if I knew how to paint I'd never run out of inspiration as long as you're around." The man charms and I have to suppress an eye roll.

What does a girl have to do to just get a bit of pleasure round here?

I'm not here to be charmed, I'm here for a fun time.

"Thank you, you really know how to charm a girl." I say, crossing my leg over the other, so that my leg is in between his legs from where he's sat on the bar stool.

"Only the pretty ones." He replies, pushing the little curled bits of hair framing my face behind my ear-- the rest of my hair is placed in a delicate low bun, pinned back with expensive pins. He rubs his knuckles against my cutting cheek bone, seemingly admiring my face. "It's unfair how beautiful you are."

"What are you gonna do? Kiss me about it?" I make the first move.

He smirks. 

"Thinking about it."

His eyes flicker between my eyes and my lips, and he's about to lean in when a voice interrupts.

"Cora." Tommy says as he walks up to us. "I'm going to head back to my office, I'll see you later to finish business, alright?"

"Yeah, just you?" I question, staring up at my best friend.

"Yeah, Arthur's pissed in the back room, thought I'd let you know, but everyone is still here." Tommy answers, giving my shoulder a squeeze.

"See yous." I sing, ready to turn back to my entertainment tonight.

"Bye." Tommy says and gives the handsome stranger a once over before leaning down to say something into my ear. I'm used to his teasing and he's used to my punches after, so I let out a huff, ready to hear what he has to say this time. "Careful, I've heard this one bites."

I look into his eyes with an annoyed look. "That's why I'm here."

Tommy lets out a quiet chuckle before wordlessly leaving the building, leaving me with the pretty boy.

Looking back at the stranger, I'm startled to find him wide eyed and inching away from me by the second.

"What?" I ask, taking a sip from my drink.

"That was... that was Thomas Shelby." He says, frozen.

"So?" I lift a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"He's a Peaky Blinder."

"So am I, yet you've been talking to me just fine." I state, knowing where this is going; this has happened way too many times recently.

People know of me but most people couldn't put a face to my name, which is why this happens a lot. I'm ready for the onslaught of rejection and a hint of terror.

"You're a Peaky Blinder?" He utters as if he can't believe it.

I nod.

"I've gotta, uh, go, have a nice evening but I must get going." He says and quickly gets off his stool to rush out of the room, practically tripping over his own feet.

Letting out a huff, I finish my drink before hopping off my stool to join everyone in the back room, everyone is more or less smashed, a slur of half hearted cheers go around room when I enter and it makes me smile. I sit down next to Finn, who offers me a cigarette, which I accept and light it up, tilting my head towards the ceiling showcasing the thin, long scar on my throat, I blow the smoke out, watching it billow towards the ceiling.

"Why are men so scared of me and Tommy?" I grumble.

"Because they know if they fuck up, either of you will rip their spleen out, darling." Polly comments, her slender fingers twitching her cigarette to drop off the ash. "Individually or together, doesn't matter." She adds.

"Match made in heaven... or hell, depends how you look at it." Michael states before downing his drink.

"How do you do it?" I ask Polly, taking a drag of my cigarette.

"Well, for starters, I'm not as ruthless as you and I guess I'm not attached to the hip with Thomas." She replies nonchalantly.

"What you need to do, right, Cora, is find a man who is handsome and can take a good punch." Arthur tells me and I raise an eyebrow at him. "Because whoever it is, he's gonna get punched by someone you know and by punched I mean shot."

"No one is bulletproof, Arthur." I say, not taking on his drunk advice.

"I am." John laughs.

"No, no you're fucking not." Finn retorts.

"How do girls not get scared of you guys?" I question, fiddling with my necklace. "On an extremely good day you guys can look intimidating and scary, how do you get girls?"

They all scoff at my teasing.

"Fuck off, alright." Arthur grumbles, knocking back another glass.

"The girls like the thrill. They come from a very traditional family and want a part of the danger but they also think they can change us." John answers my question seriously.

"Never fucking works though, does it?" Finn barks a laugh, nudging John.

We continue to chat for a while before I get bored and I'm still slightly pissed off about earlier, so I say my goodbyes not that anyone's really listening, too drunk to function so I slip out and step out into the brisk chilly streets of Birmingham.

Twisting and turning until I get to my destination, I open the door with the key I've had for literal years and brush my shoes off before stepping inside, closing the door behind me.

Making my way through the room, I wordlessly open Tommy's office, finding him sat at his desk going through paper work, cigarette in hand; he looks up, dropping his pen but goes back to his work.

"You're here earlier than I thought." He states, his tone light.

I huff, mad at him although I know it's not his fault.

"Same." I reply tightly, throwing my bag down into the little seating area in the corner of his office before I sit down in the chair opposite him.

"You don't have to be here, I can do this on my own, you know. I'm not forcing you to be here." Tommy replies in a sincere voice, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"I know, but no one wants me out there." I counteract, leaning back in my chair, a sour look on my face.

Tommy looks like he wants to ask but decides against it; he knows when I'll come around.

"Right, uh... so I talked to some connections and they said they know about the plans but are refusing to tell me any details, and I'm debating with either paying them a visit or selling their information." Tommy informs and just like that I'm back into business mode again, forgetting about my interaction from earlier.

Then we talk about business, business plans, plans for the future, and just random things whilst having a laugh.

As things are winding down, Tommy gets up to grab a drink from his own bar cart that he has in his office.

"Do you want one?" Tommy offers, looking over his shoulder at me.

"Sure." I accept and he gets another glass out, beginning to pour our drinks. I sink into my chair, rubbing my eyes as I let out a groan. I'm still bothered about earlier.

That guy just rubbed me the wrong way, it's happened plenty of times before tonight; I'm best friends with one the most notoriously dangerous person in the midlands, I guess tonight was just my breaking point.

If I saw him again, I wouldn't hesitate to send a few promises to him.

"Fuck, how come you can be a manwhore but I can't even get a single person to be interested in me for more than 20 minutes?" I question, accepting my glass from Tommy when he approaches me.

"Long enough to get the job done though." Tommy jokes, sitting down in the chair next to me, our feet hovering above one another where our legs are crossed. "I think it's a little thing called misogyny."

"Little thing my ass." I bitterly chuckle, taking a sip. "You're at fault for all this, by the way."

"The fuck did I do?" He asks with a light laugh, before taking a sip of his drink.

"You're the reason all these people get scared to either even approach me or go any further than some harmless flirting." I explain, tucking some hair behind my ear as I send him a look that only widens his smirk.

"Not my fault people are so delirious with terror when it comes to me." Tommy shrugs, placing his glass on the table beside his chair and he laughs at my disbelief.

"Yeah, because you definitely didn't put on a show at the garrison last month that we're still finding blood from." I roll my eyes fondly.

"Got to show my enemies what I'm capable of." Thomas brushes my words off. "And hey, it's not like you're innocent yourself. Didn't you destroy a guy's face so much they the police couldn't even identify him just a few days ago?" He teases, licking his lips.

"No, doesn't ring any bells." I shake my head.

"Funny, maybe that's why men are scared of you and won't approach you. I for one, am absolutely terrified of you." Tommy states, making me laugh knowing that's he's only half joking.

"Most people can't put name to my face so they generally don't know me, therefore it's your fault." I tell him, placing my drink on the matching side table next to me.

"Really?" He sighs

"Yes! Just earlier tonight I was talking to some guy and then you came along, Mr. I will cut someones ears off if they look at me, and you scared the bejeezus out of him, turned him into a puddle of foolery. Then I told him I'm connected to you and he freaked the fuck out, made an excuse to leave and he practically tripped over his own feet to get away from me." I reply grumpily, sitting up in my chair.

"Are you done?" Tommy asks, sending me a look.

"No, no I'm fucking not. I've not had sex in like 2 months, do you even know what that feels like? Most of the time it's not even me, it's you that scares them off!" I answer exasperated, watching him down the rest of his drink, placing the empty glass back on the table.

"No, I don't, actually. Why don't you just go outside of Birmingham for a fuck?" Tommy suggests, leaning forward on his knees.

"Fuck you. Mate, I've fucking tried and if we weren't literally sewn together that might work but everywhere I am, you are, vice versa. It's also such a faff to go all the way out or Birmingham for some dick that's probably mediocre. You ju---"

I'm cut off from my rant by Tommy's lips on mine.

I'm so confused and stunned by his actions that I don't know how to react. Freezing, I just sit there for a moment before I decide to kiss him back for a few moments before I pull back sort of abruptly, not in a big deal.

"What are you doing?" I question, searching his crystal clear blue eyes that are mere inches away from my face.

"If everyone else is so scared of me that they can't approach you, may as well take matters into my own hands." Thomas explains, and he gingerly cups my cheek, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone, his eyes soft.

I lean in closer to him, thinking over how this could play out, what it would do to our years long friendship.

It's no secret that we find each other attractive, we've said it to each other and everyone around us, but I can honestly say that nothing has ever happened between us. Two best friends that have expressed our admiration for each other.

I don't know if I want to ruin that.

Our friendship is incredibly strong and personal, I don't know if one steamy night could just throw that away.

My desire acts on it's own and as Tommy is searching my green eyes, I close the gap between us, moving in perfect sync with each other as I play with his hair and he squeezes my waist.

It's like I'm slipping into a trance and all I can think of is Tommy, I'm consumed with all things Tommy. This moment right now is making me feel lighter than air, I've got sparks on my stomach at how he's making me feel.

The burning need to be closer is killing me and it seems like Tommy is feeling the same as he uncups my cheek and places his hands on my waist, pulling me onto his lap.

Thomas agonizingly slowly trails his hand up my thigh, his fingertips grazing my exposed skin where my dress has risen up, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Tommy's hand comes in contact with the pocket knife stuffed into my stocking and he pulls away slightly, letting out a low throaty chuckle, "Classic Cora." He mumbles against my mouth, making me smile, and he pulls deadly weapon from my stocking, placing it on the table beside him. Giving my hip a momentary squeeze, Tommy swipes his tongue against my lip asking for entrance, parting my lips, his tongue meets mine and he begins to explore my mouth, seeing what gets a reaction from me.

His fingers find my precariously placed tied up hair, pulling the few pins out and then the hair tie, sending my thick, dark brown almost black curls cascading down my back, causing Tommy to let out a sound of appreciation and bury his fingers into my hair.

I don't usually have my hair down as it's easy to grab on to and it just feels more professional to have it up. I've also got so much of it that it gets in the way when I'm trying to work.

Disconnecting from Tommy I attach my mouth to his neck, leaving my mark. Tommy tilts his head, giving me space to find his sweet spot and he lets out a nice little moan as I set to work.

The pending feeling of his hand trailing my thigh is overwhelming and his fingertips approaching where I need him the most makes me pause, my bottom lip dragging up the skin of his neck.

"Do you want me to stop?" Thomas whispers into my ear, his pursed lips tugging at my earlobe.

"Fuck no." I consent, and his hand meets my underwear.

Beginning to confidently rub me through my underwear, I let out a shaky breath against Tommy's neck and I instinctively open my legs wider for him. His touch is as light as a feather, desperate for more friction, I grind on his fingers letting out a moan.

"Mm, sound so good for me." Tommy rasps, his teeth grazing the skin on my prominent collarbone. Moving my fancy lacy underwear to the side, without hesitation Tommy runs his fingers through my folds, collecting my wetness and bringing it up to my clit.

All I can do is bite my lip to conceal my moans.

Trailing my hand down his front until I meet is trousers and I begin to palm is growing semi, which makes him let out a groan.

I declare that as my favourite sound.

Suddenly in one swift motion, I'm moved off of Tommy's lap and placed right on the edge of his hardwood desk and he's standing right in front of me, his gorgeous blue eyes blown out, looking at me as if I were the only person in world, and he's hungry.

"You're really pretty." Tommy utters.

Before I can reply, Thomas captures my lips again in another sensual kiss that's full of tongue, noises of appreciation, and hands are roaming as we keep involuntarily grinding against each other.

Pushing his suit jacket off and watching it drop to the floor, Tommy's hands find the back of my dress, making quick work of undoing the expensive fabric, and pulling it off of me, leaving me in my lingerie that I definitely didn't plan on letting my best friend see tonight whilst he's in his trousers, crisp white shirt, and extortionate looking waistcoat.

"Wow." My best friend says, slightly out of breath, taking in my figure and how off guard and innocent I look.

Unlike the brutally violent and devious businesswoman I am.

"Unbelievable."

"Shut up and touch me." I chuckle bashfully, weirded out at how special he's making me feel.

I feel extremely exposed but in a weird way, I kind of like it.

Tommy smiles fondly and presses a series of short kisses to my mouth before I take hold of his lip, flicking my tongue against him, causing him to tighten his grip on me.

Disconnecting, Thomas kisses down my neck, leaving a mark or two on his way down, until he gets to my chest and I arch into him. Kissing my cleavage as he cups my right boob, his lips trail down my torso, leaving a trail of fire behind him.

Dropping down to his knees, Tommy takes hold of my hips pressing a gentle kiss below my belly button before he snaps open my garter one by one and effortlessly drags my stockings down my legs.

Grazing up my legs with his hands or mouth, Tommy after what feels like years pulls my panties down, throwing them out of sight, I watch as his eyes light up and if possible I feel even more exposed.

Flicking his eyes up to me, looking like he's asking for my consent, I brush my fingers through his hair and give him a subtle nod.

Burying his head between my thigh, Tommy licks a strip up my heat, making me let out a moan, and bury my fingers into his thick hair.

Leaning back onto his desk, Tommy pushes my thighs apart so he can get better access as he attaches his mouth so my core, sending me to all sorts of heaven.

"Fuck, Tommy." I whine, tugging at his hair as I arch my back.

"Let it out, we're here alone, scream my name, let me hear how much you want me." Tommy urges with a slight smirk.

Without any warning, Tommy pumps a finger into me and I conform to his wishes at that, not caring how loud I was being, I let his name fall from my lips along with my moans.

My legs shudder under his hand, he lapped at me as if I were his last meal, reveling in the sounds I was making, the sounds he was earning.

I was close and we both knew that, so Tommy speeds up his movements and adds another finger inside of me, curling up.

"Fuck, oh my god, Tommy, don't stop." I pant, tugging at his hair.

Tommy had me withering in moments, my fingers tugging at his hair which made him groan, only adding to the pleasure he was giving me.

"Fuck, I'm gonna---" I began which only spurred Thomas on, he sucked harder and pumped his fingers faster. My breathing hitched and shaky, breathy, and loud sounds left my lips as I clenched around him, my body shuddering from the orgasm he'd worked out of me.

He continues his motions making sure I'm done, then pulls his fingers out, standing up right, brushing some hair out of my face.

"Such a pretty girl." He whispers, eyeing my lips.

Tommy's thumb runs over my bottom lip and I open my mouth, he brings his fingers that were inside of me to my lips, and I stick my tongue out and he inserts his finger into mouth, letting me suck my juices off of his fingers; his eyes seemingly in a trance at how my mouth is working.

"Mm, just like that." He whispers.

Standing up to my full height, I guide Tommy to swap places with me and he's very much willing to do so, peppering kisses to his jaw before dropping to my knees, I innocently look up at him through my lashes, loving how he's so aware of all my movements and how he's like putty in my hands.

"May I?" I raise an eyebrow, digging my fingertips under his belt.

Tommy leans down and cups my jaw, pressing a deep kiss to my lips. "Of course." I grin in delight and snatch a quick kiss as he begins to retreat.

Undoing his belt, I take that off and throw it away before undoing his button and pulling down his zipper. Palming him through his undone trousers, Tommy lets out a hitched breath, it's a barely there pressure, enough to feel something but no where enough as much as he like.

"Stop teasing." He groans, bracing himself on his desk and his knuckles are milky white from how hard he's holding on to his desk.

I chuckle darkly. "Tommy, I haven't even started."

Continuing my actions mixing up my pressure and pace as he throws his head back in annoyance.

Pulling him out of his underwear letting him spring free, Thomas groans when I grab him, making my mouth water. This sight alone could give me immense pleasure.

The sight of me on my knees in front of him, him practically fully clothed with his dick out, just calling out for me to suck, all whilst in the middle of his office.

With my best friend let alone.

I would love to tease him for hours but the overwhelming urge to hear Tommy moan, moan my name and pull my hair gets the best of me.

Tightening my grip on him, I wrap my lips around his tip that's already leaking precum, sucking lightly, which makes him throw his head back in pleasure.

"So pretty, such a pretty cock." I utter, licking his entire length and wrapping my mouth around him.

"Fuck, Cora." Tommy gasps, threading his hand in my hair to keep me there, and I let out a hum, causing him to tighten his grip on my hair as he lets out an estranged moan.

Taking as much as I possibly can into my mouth, I begin to work my magic, pumping whatever I can't with my hand whilst Tommy breathes heavily and lets out his moans above me.

The sight of him with his head thrown back as he moans my name whilst he half heartedly guides me with his hand, too lost in the pleasure to properly commits to it, is ingrained in my mind.

We're completely lost in the moment, right now it's just him and I, there's nothing else in our mind except lust and each other, and I'm alright with that.

"Oh my... fuck, I can't l---" Tommy cuts his pleasured rambling off and lets out a large breath before pulling me off of him. "I wanna finish inside of you." Tommy states breathlessly.

I wordlessly stand up, more than willing to conform to his needs and begin to undress him, his hands pulling off his clothes as fast as he can until he's completely stark naked in the middle of his office with his best friend.

Realising I've still got my bra on, I undo the back and pull the straps down, watching it fall the floor.

Tommy and I stand in front of each other, completely enamoured with each other, feeling extremely exposed but I like it.

"Gorgeous." Thomas whispers before pressing his lips to mine, gingerly holding my face in his hands.

Thomas guides me back a few steps to his desk and I prop myself upon it, as Tommy's hands roam.

Taking hold of himself, Tommy runs his tip through my dripping folds, the both of us letting out a shaky breath.

"You ready?" Tommy questions, tucking some hair behind my ears before pressing his forehead against mine.

"Mhm." I hum, running my hand down his back.

Capturing my lips in a quick kiss, Tommy lines himself up with my entrance and pushes in until he's done to the hilt.

"Fuck." We say in unison, making us breathe a chuckle.

Beginning to move his hips, Tommy buries his face in my neck, dragging his mouth wherever he pleases, exploring my skin. I hold the back of his neck, trying to stay afloat as my toes curl, and we're too far gone to care when expensive things fall from Tommy's desk.

***

"You should wear your hair down more often." Tommy tells me softly as he's propped up on his elbow looking down at me as I lie on my back, settling into the fairly large seating area Tommy has in his office.

"It's so long, it gets in the way." I pout, rubbing my eye.

"I like it." He sincerely says, picking up a lock and twirling it around his finger.

We're have gentle pillow talk without the pillows, just looking at each other in a different way as we lie in our underwear in the warm room, talking in quiet voices as if the whole world could hear us.

"I like your hair, very imaginative." I tease, combing his locks with my fingers.

"Rude." He grumbles, poking me in the side making me jerk as I let out a laugh.

"When you first get it cut it feels like velcro." I chuckle, making him grin.

"Yeah, I've just got the worst barber." Tommy smirks, playing with my fingers.

"Bitch." I laugh, ruffling his velcro like hair.

Every other Sunday Tommy sits in my kitchen letting me cut his hair as we bitch about business or just forgetting about work altogether.

"Talented at your craft but the most annoying barber I've ever met." He shakes his head, amused.

"I tell you each time, I don't mean to tickle your neck or catch your ear, it just happens." I defend myself, making him laugh.

"I don't mean to stab you, it just happens!" Tommy imitates me, making me poke him in the ribs which only makes him laugh harder. "If only people knew of your barbering skills and not your knife wielding skills, maybe they wouldn't be so scared of you."

"If only people knew of your sewing skills, they wouldn't be so scared of your gun ridden hand." I retort with a fond smile, looking up at how pretty he looks in this light, with the small matching fond smile of his face.

"Shh, or I'll tell people you are a professional at juggling." Tommy smirks, pushing some hair out of my face.

"Yeah, with knives, that's cool as fuck." I reply, passionate about my talent.

"Careful or we'll send you away to go to the circus." Tommy chuckles, pulling me in for a smiley kiss.

I've always been known to wake up really late, always the last one up, the last one to finish breakfast if at all, and always the last one out of the door in the morning. It's not that I stay out really late, I'm usually at home at a reasonable time, I cosy down in my homely home, and I just relax after the usually hectic day and yet I still wake up late.

Except today.

I wake up tangled in a mess of limbs, Tommy's arms wrapped around me and I suck in a breath, wishing on everything in the world that he doesn't wake up. Easily slipping out of his grasp, I sit on the edge of the large ottoman, rubbing my face before letting out a sigh.

I need to get dressed and be out of here before Thomas wakes up, I do not want to have the awkward conversation of the morning after.

Quickly and quietly, I put my dress back on, throw my hair up as I approach the window, pulling one of the slats down to see what it's like at this ungodly hour of 5 in the morning, the Sun is just starting to rise, highlighting the permanent haze of smoke above Birmingham.

Shoving my ankle boots on, I tug the zips up and tip toe towards the door so that my heels don't click against the wooden floors.

Closing the door behind me as silently as possible, I let out a big breath when I succeed and begin to walk out the building that I visit everyday.

I know I'm going to see Thomas again in just a few hours but hopefully we'll both be consumed in work to talk about what happened. God I hope no one will pick up on what happened.

I don't regret last night at all and I can say that with my whole chest but I also love my friendship with Tommy, and I hope one night of mind blowing, amazing sex won't ruin that.

I've no idea where we stand and that scares me.

That's my best friend, he'll always be my best friend.

Opening up the door to my house that I never got to see last night, I begin to tidy up a few things as I've got some time before I have to head into work. This is my haven, this is wear I escape work, I try not to bring business back here, this is my safe place so I have to have it clean.

Shoving an old newspaper into the bin, I begin to make a bite of breakfast and head into my bedroom whilst it cooks so I can get properly dressed.

Pulling my wardrobe open, brushing my fingers over the hangers until I find a suitable item a clothing; a navy blue dress that gives the illusion that it's off the shoulder but it's got a see through mesh-like material hanging from my shoulders with tiny multicoloured flowers embroidered into it, it's cinched at the waist but it's got a wavy extra bit of fabric above my chest, the length is slightly longer than I usually go for as it's inches shy from my ankles, whilst I usually go for just below the knee dresses but I like it.

Just about being able to do it up myself, I pick out some appropriate shoes with a tall heel as I'm surrounded by a lot of men so I hate being the shortest person in the room.

Plus Tommy is quite a bit taller than me and he always teases me for that, so I use my heel to either kick him in the shin or step on his toes.

Gently brushing through my hair to make sure it doesn't frizz up on me, I throw it up in an intricate low bun, leaving some large parts out to frame my face.

Going back downstairs to fetch my breakfast which I eat whilst I read this morning's paper, before I head out of the door.

***

"Well I'll say, this has got to be a first." Arthur laughs, leaning back in his chair as I enter the betting shop.

"Wow," Polly starts, looking at her watch bewildered. "Only 45 minutes late."

Even though I got up at the ass crack of dawn, I'm still late as I may or may not of got preoccupied with the book I've been reading recently and then I got caught up chatting with some people on my way over here.

"I usually expect to see you at around 10 or 11." John smirks, taking his cigar out of his mouth.

"What can I say? Don't get used to it." I say, my eyes flickering towards Tommy's office where he seems to be as of now and I can't help by think about last night.

"It's almost as if you're acting professional and playing by the rules." Polly sarcastically replies, hovering above Arthur.

"Never." I shake my head, placing my bag on my desk then hanging my long coat on the coat hanger.

"Tommy's in a bad mood, so watch out." John jokes, swinging in his chair.

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow, looking at him.

"Well, he's not really in any mood, he's just brooding in silence and doesn't want to interact or talk to anyone." Polly rolls her eyes,making her way over to her own work station. "Maybe you can sort him out." She adds, with a small smile.

Doubt it.

"I've gotta get my forms so I have to interact with him." I huff and brace myself as I open the door to his office, I've never knocked before so I'm not gonna start now.

"Good morning." Michael greets me, sitting in the chair that Tommy kissed me in.

"Morning." I say back, my eyes flicking up to Tommy who's not taking his eyes off of his work in front of him.

"Do you even know what this time of day looks like?" Michael teases, and I roll my eyes.

"Don't worry, Michael, she's been up for hours, I'm sure Cora loves the sunrise." Tommy states before I can even think of replying to Michael.

I glare at him as he leans back in his chair, lighting up his cigarette not even looking at me.

If he wants to be hostile, I can always beat him at that.

"Practically pulled an all nighter, was busy with a piece of work." I tell Michael but my words are aimed at Tommy, and I'm right because Tommy can be a piece of work when he wants to be.

Tommy just exhales his smoke and looks at me devoid of any emotion as I refuse to look at him.

"Should've asked for a hand, I'd of been more than willing." Michael says, completely oblivious to Tommy and I's quips.

"No, couldn't do that to you." I wave him off. "Anyway, I only came in here to get my forms." I say, finally looking at Tommy in the eyes, waiting for him to give them to me as they're in his drawer.

He just stares at me, his cigarette burning in his hand, seeming like there's a million words in his head that he wants to say yet absolutely thoughtless at the same time.

"Run along then, Michael." Tommy says as he hands Michael a file, which Michael wordlessly takes and exits the room.

Letting out a huff, I walk around his desk and crouch down next to him to open his bottom drawer.

"You're a twat, Tom." I grumble, grabbing the wad and standing up.

"No what you were saying la---" Tommy gets cut off by me slamming the stupid forms on his desk and the grabbing his own gun from his holster and pressing it below his jaw as I hold his throat, pushing him back in his chair.

"Finish that sentence, I dare you." I prompt him, looking at his slightly taken aback eyes. "You know I'll do it."

He stays silent, clearly picking up on my vibe.

Putting pressure on my hands one last time before throwing his gun into his lap, gathering what I came in here for and leaving his office.

Tommy and I bicker all the time, disagree on extremely menial stuff but we only properly argue very occasionally but we always come around in the end because despite everything we love each other but god can we get on each other's nerves.

Not that I'd call that an argument, that was just a warning.

"We knew you weren't a morning person but fuck Tommy must've pissed you right off." Arthur laughs, as he chalks some stuff up on the big blackboard.

"More than you'll ever know." I grumble, and begin to get to work.

***

As the Sun sets, people start clearing out of the building as they finish their work, singing or grumbling a goodbye over their shoulder as they go home to their family or lonesome house. I could only dream of clocking out as I've still got a load of work to do and not even the kind I like, it's all admin and menial things that need to be done but I wouldn't consider it fun by any means.

It's kind of nice in a funny sort of way, it's dark outside and the lights are on illuminating the room with a soft glow, there's a slight patter of rain on the windows and it's just relaxing and quiet.

It's giving me a moment with my mind to think things over as I pretty much work on autopilot.

I know Tommy is still here, I can see him through the glass doors to his office, clearing extremely concentrated on whatever he's doing; I wonder if his mind keeps drifting back to what we did on his desk just last night.

I don't what to say to him, he's giving me the cold shoulder, refuses to talk to me unless it's necessary, and I just don't know where we stand. I don't know what I want to come from last night, I'm really happy with where we are right now and although I had - arguably - the best sex of my life last night, not much can come between our friendship.

I felt something that night, Tommy made me feel so special and like I was the most important person in the world to him, and I couldn't deny that those feelings.

Letting out a sigh, I drop my pen and grab a cigarette, placing it between my lips before I search for my matches. Striking a match, I tilt my head back and as I'm bringing the flame to my cigarette my eyes catch Tommy leaning against the doorway to his office, staring at me.

I pause for a moment before lighting my cigarette and waving the match out as I exhale.

"You look really pretty when you concentrate." Tommy states and if there were another person in here I don't think I would of been able to hear him.

"I don't do it often so you're welcome." I reply, never one to take compliments. "But thanks." I bashfully add.

"We both know that's not true." Tommy smiles ever so slightly.

"You look really pretty when you smile." I reply, taking a drag from my cigarette.

Tommy steps down the few steps and approaches me.

"Cora... what's going on?" Tommy asks, turning the chair beside me around so he can sit on it backwards, his arms folded on the backrest.

I look down, not sure what to say or where to look or how to react.

"I don't... I don't know." I say quietly, almost ashamed to admit. I'm always in control of a situation, I know the ins and outs but this time I have no idea where I stand, what's going on and I'm definitely not in control; neither of us are.

"Do you regret it?" He questions and I look at him properly.

"No, I don't. I can honestly say that I don't regret it." I answer sincerely, and a shimmer of relief speeds across his eyes. "Do you?"

"No. It was great and you don't regret great things." Tommy replies after a few moments, watching me stub out my cigarette. "But... I was hurt that you left before I woke up." He hesitantly adds, as if he doesn't know how to put his words together.

Neither do I.

Looking around the room as I try to gather my words, I can feel his bright blue eyes boring into my side and its quite unnerving.

"I didn't know what to say to you. Tommy, you're my best friend, you have been since year 9, we've gone through so much together and I can always rely on you ---you've always just been my best friend. Then suddenly when I get rejected by some twat who's scared of either women in general or the fact that you are my best friend and you decide to kiss me and then things escalate, things change. For good or for bad I don't know." I try to just put some of my thoughts into words.

"You could've left a note, woke me up if you really needed to go, silently got dressed with me and then we parted ways, anything... anything other than wordlessly leaving. Everything stopped, I slept a full night, I didn't have any messy dreams, I woke up rested, then when I saw you weren't there with me, none of that mattered anymore." Thomas explains with a small shrug, his eyes burning for a conclusion, a cohesive answer, anything.

"Only because you had company, female company no doubt." I state, sending him a tired look. His face is illuminated by the standing lamp behind me, highlighting his slight frustration, hurt, and confusion.

"No, I'm almost 100 percent sure it's not just female company. When I got back from fighting and I was having my night terrors, I'd call you up and you'd come sleep in my bed, and you'd help me fall asleep again and at least help with my dreams. When I was using you'd demand that we share a bed because you knew that I knew that you hated it. You've always helped me sleep." Tommy insists, leaning forward in his chair.

"I was just being a good friend, Tom."

"I'm not asking you to be my girlfriend or to marry me, I'm just saying I sleep better with you around. I don't know what I want to come out from this or where we stand but please promise that at the end of the day we'll always be best friends." Tommy pleads, grabbing my hand, clasping it with both of his.

"We'll always be best friends, Thomas. No matter how mad I am at you or you at me, I'll always be there for you." I assure, squeezing his hand with a small smile. "I hate not being in control, my whole life I've always been in control, had a grip on things, and just knew the ins and outs of every situation, then suddenly I don't it scares the living hell out of me, Tom. I don't know how to react."

"I'm not asking you to, I'm just as confused and lost as you are, I don't know where we stand or how to be normal again." Tommy says, his eyebrows raised. "I don't know what I want to come from this, but I know I'll always want you around."

"Same, always." I tell him, looking deep into his eyes. "I've gotta go, Tommy, I'll see you tomorrow." I lie, I've still got a load of work to do but if Tommy keeps looking at me like he is now, I'm not going to be able to make it out of here without my hair a mess.

Standing up, I push my chair back in and take a step away before Tommy says something.

"You can't keep running from your problems."

I pause, turning to look at him.

"Sorry?"

"You can't keep running away from things that you can't solve in 5 minutes." Tommy expands, looking up at me. He looks uncertain, as if he doesn't know how I'll react.

Keeping my gaze on his for a split second more before I swiftly bend down to press my lips against his, cupping his cheek. He seems surprised and stills for a moment then eagerly kisses me back, his hand also on my cheek.

We kiss for a few more moments until I pull back slightly, our faces inches away. "Watch me." I whisper, looking into his stormy sea of blue eyes, and my eyes flicker down to his lips before I stand up to my full height.

Taking a step back to make my move out of here but Tommy suddenly stands up straight and grabs my hand before I can escape and pulls me into him, immediately cupping my face with his soft hands and softly crashes his mouth to mine.

Without any hesitation I kiss him back, wrapping my arms loosely around his neck as I slowly relax into him. Tommy pulls me impossibly close to him, feeling every contort of his body, his hands steadily trail down my back as I work my mouth against his.

Once again, Tommy pulls my hair out of my hairband, letting my wild locks bounce free around my back. He buries his fingers into my curls whilst his other hand wonders, feeling my waist, hips and ass.

I press my hips against his and he leans against the nearest desk, he lets out a moan at the feeling of my hips and I take advantage of that so my tongue can get reacquainted with his.

Last time it was slow, hesitant touches, taking our time but this time it's eager, fast moving, and hungry.

I let out a moan when Tommy flicks his tongue against mine, completely lost in the moment; I can feel that I'm losing myself in him, his touch, his mouth, his mind. Disconnecting, Tommy attaches his mouth to the sensitive skin on my neck, dragging his lips up to the sweet spot below my ear.

The fast that he knows that fact sends me reeling over something so silly and simple, but it wakes me up.

Immediately I push myself off of him, taking a few shaky steps back with wide eyes. He looks shocked, his blown out eyes shining in concern, and he takes a step towards me.

"Co---"

"No." I shake my head. "We can't do this, I need to leave." I blurt out and make an exit, not bothering to pick up my coat on the way out as Tommy calls after me, but I slam the door on him, blocking out his voice that's always been comforting for me.

***

"Turns out it was just a fluke then." Polly teases, lighting up a cigarette as I enter the building.

"Seems like it." I agree, glancing at the clock, seeing it reads 10:45.

"Who's this raven haired beauty walking in?" A familiar voice asks, and I look to my left to see Ada proudly sitting on the closest desk to me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, not being able to help the grin on my face as I approach her, pulling her into a quick hug.

"Thought I should come up as I haven't seen everyone in a while, and you even longer." Ada explains, and it's true as the last time she came up I was busy visiting my family that live down south.

"Well, it's great to see you again. Did you bring Karl?" I question, and as I'm looking at her I can't help the guilt that tugs at me as I slept with her brother just a few nights ago.

"Yeah, he's busy making a mess in Tommy's office with Finn." She answers, folding her arms.

"I'm sure he'll look forward to finding that." I smirk. "Is Tommy here by the way?" I ask curiously, hanging my bag up along with my coat, next to the coat I left here last night when I made a hasty exit.

"No, something happened at The Garrison or something and he had to go sort that out." Ada informs me, sending me a quizzical look when I let out a sigh of relief.

"Michael said someone got too rowdy and fired some shots at someone, no ones seriously hurt but Tommy went to go sort it out." Polly says, walking towards us creating a trio.

"When did your hair get so long?" Ada asks fascinated, her slender fingers coming up to grasp a few loose curls.

"I've not seen you without your hair up in what? Two years, maybe?" Polly comments, also looking at my hair.

"I just didn't have time this morning to do it, rolled out of bed, parted it and left." I tell her, running my hand through it.

"Didn't have the time? It's nearly 11 o'clock and you're only just strolling into work." Ada exclaims with a laugh.

"It took me ages to get to sleep, and I need my 8 hours." I retort, the reasons I couldn't get to sleep need to remain a secret.

Her damn brother.

"And just because you're you Tommy won't get mad. If any of us are more than 20 minutes late, Tommy will act like a child." Polly roll her eyes.

"How do you do it?" Ada asks genuinely.

Suck his dick apparently.

"I simply just show him my knife and he does whatever." I joke, with a smirk. "Hey, it's not like you have to be here at 8 or 9 on the dot, you're all founders of this company, you have just as much of say as that dumb fuck."

"True, but you can't deny that Tommy will throw a fit if we're late, where as you..."

"What can I say? Shelbys love me." I tease and leave the room.

It's just pushing 3 pm when Tommy walks into the room again, the first time I'm seeing him since I freaked out last night. It's been a busy and chaotic day so far, people coming in and out, I had to go deal with someone who wasn't paying up which got a bit messy, then I had to catch up on all the things I didn't do yesterday after leaving prematurely, and to do that with a messy head on top of that is difficult.

Tommy searches the room as he continues to walk through the room until he finds me. "You, my office." He points his finger at me and then towards his office doors.

"No?" I shake my head, quirking my eyebrows.

"It's fucking business that's all." Tommy huffs from across the room, giving me a slight glare before looking down and heading towards his office.

Pushing my chair out, I let out an even bigger huff than Tommy's and stand up, meeting him at his office doors. Our eyes flicker over each other extremely briefly before he opens his door and lets me enter first.

We both stop short at the sight of a man sitting in the chair opposite Tommy's desk.

"Who's that?" I whisper to Tommy, neither of us taking a step further.

"Mr Parsons, wants business with us." Tommy briefly tells me before moving forward. "Good afternoon, Mr Parsons."

"Ah! Good afternoon, not that good in a place like this." Mr Parsons states, looking up at Tommy as he goes to sit in his desk chair.

"Good afternoon." I greet and sit down in the chair next to him.

"Oh, a woman, a pretty woman that is." He comments with a weird smile of his face.

I send a quick look to Tommy who looks just as speechless as I am. "Thank you, business --- what can we do for you?"

Ever since I joined The Shelby Company Limited all those years ago Tommy's always asked me to join in with meetings. Not entirely sure why if I'm honest, he's always said and I quote 'you give me a level headed opinion', whatever that means.

"I need protection, I've recently moved to this shithole and I've heard that you so called Peaky Blinders are the best people for the job." Mr Parsons states, intertwining his fingers over his chest.

Tommy and I share a look at his choice of words.

"What do you need protecting?" Tommy questions, leaning back in his chair.

As Mr Parsons answers Tommy's question in his unique way of vocabulary, I take a good look at him. He's probably at the higher end of middle-aged, a full head of black hair growing white, a rather slim and tall build, well dressed, a thin greying moustache, and a sinister smile. He's not unattractive but there's something just off about his face.

"We will definitely look into that, Mr Parsons, we'll need to assess the situation ourselves first." Tommy says, gesturing with his hands.

"This pretty lady, I hope of course." He gives me a grin, and I grip the arms of the expensive chair to stop myself from showing him what I really think of him.

"No." Tommy bluntly tells him. "My brother will."

"That's a real shame." Mr Parsons sighs and looks at me as if I were his last meal on earth. "I must say, I think it's really great that you have so many women working for you."

"First of all," Tommy starts, leaning back in his chair and lights a cigarette, "They work with me, and secondly if you weren't so creepy and weird, you'd not speak of women as if they're a rare breed of dog."

Mr Parsons takes no notice of Thomas, just keeps his smile as his green eyes take me in, making my skin crawl. If the circumstances wear different and we were in a different environment I'd of either punched the guy in the face or threatened to do something worse by now, but because this is business and he could be important, I can't.

I lead forward in my chair to be closer to him despite my whole body screaming no. "You're coming on a little strong."

"That's just the way I act with beautiful women. A good one only comes around once and a while and you have to snap them up real fucking quick." He replies, with a wink, looking proud of himself.

"And you think it's working?" Tommy sasses and I stifle a chuckle, pursing my lip to conceal my smirk.

"I know it's working." He states over confidently, which even if I were into him, that would be a big turn off.

Like Tommy, he has a certain confidence about him but it's not stifling, big headed, or cocky, it's subtle, he demands it without verbally demanding it, and it's attractive.

Ew, since when did I use my best friend as a model of what is hot and not?

"Business, Mr Parsons, we're here for business." I remind him, sending him a stern look.

"See." Mr Parsons smirks at Tommy, and I roll my eyes as Tommy just stares straight through him, his cigarette seemingly forgotten as it burns in his fingers. "My business need protecting because I've made a few enemies in my year, and people like trying to tear me down."

"Wonder why." I mumble in a huff.

"What was that, sweetheart?"

"Oh nothing, just talking to myself, nothing for you to worry about." I wave him off, throwing a glare at him I how intrusive he's being.

"Anything that concerns your gorgeous mind is my concern, darling." Mr Parsons states softly before he grabs my hand that was dangling off of the arm of my chair.

I throw my head back in annoyance; I'd give anything to show this bitch my knife. I pull hand back, wanting to wash hands immediately.

"Why should we give you our protection?" Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Because, you clearly need it." Mr Parsons says, taking his eyes off of me from practically looking through my clothes to look at Tommy straight in the eyes.

Tommy abruptly gets up and rounds his desk towards me, he nods his head for me to get out of my chair, which I do and Tommy places his hand on my waist as we switch places to me sitting in his chair opposite Mr Parsons to Tommy sitting next to him, I can feel Mr Parsons' eyes on my body as I move. Tommy leans forward in his new chair, looking deep into Mr Parsons' eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He questions, looking scary but it's kinda hot and to be honest, I'm slightly turned on.

"You live in a place like this, it's pretty self explanatory." Mr Parsons replies, crossing his leg over the other.

"I choose to live here, you don't have a choice." Tommy points out, clearly knowing more about him than I do.

"If that's what you want to believe, sure." He chuckles, throwing his head back.

"I'm not accustomed to being spoken to like that, especially not in my own fucking office." Tommy states, shaking his head slightly.

"What? No one been brave enough?" He chortles. "I've always been---"

"No one's seen the next morning after." Thomas cuts him off bluntly, and Mr Parsons stills for a moment.

This is such a dangerous and tense moment yet all I can do is keep my eyes locked on Tommy and all I want in the world right now is a repeat of the other night.

"I'm here to make a deal, Mr Shelby."

"Fine, give me your proposition." Tommy says, leaning back in his seat.

"50 percent of what I can--- no, will bring into The Shelby Company." Mr Parsons states with no remorse.

"And how do you expect to do that?" Tommy practically almost laughs, and I bite my lip to stop my guffaws coming out.

"With my business. If you protect me and people know that we're in bed together, you'll get even more people coming to you, you won't know where to put all the money." He answers, clearly delusional.

"Anything more you want from your so called deal?" Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow.

"A night with the girl."

We both freeze at that, both of us not believing that he just said that.

Tommy's always been protective of me, especially with people like this. I can even remember when I'd get people a year or two above me in school hitting on me or flirting with me, Tommy would always put them in their place and then ask if I was okay.

Yet at the same time, he knows to give me space and when I'm at my breaking point. He knows I don't like being smothered and accommodates for that.

"She's off the fucking table, untouchable." Tommy states with no hesitation or room for arguing. "Get the fuck out of my office." He shakes his head.

"I said sh---"

"Out." I push and he turns to look at me, his eyes widening at the sight of a gun pointed at his head.

"Yo---"

"Out." I push and pull the slide back.

He wordlessly gets up and Tommy and I escort him out as he swears a storm, slamming the door after himself.

Tommy and I stare at each other, alone since last night.

We both act on our own accord as I'm suddenly pressed against the wall, with Tommy's mouth on mine. I grip the back of his neck, my nails tickling his skin as Tommy pins me against the wall with his hips whilst his hands grip whatever he can.

Tommy wastes no time letting his tongue get reacquainted with mine, and I let out a moan at the feeling.

Last time it was soft, gentle, and slow, this time though, this time it's a lot more heated, passionate, and rougher.

"Jump." Tommy mumbles against me, and I do so, wrapping my legs around him as his hands go to my ass to get a steady grip on me.

I can tell he's holding back, almost as if he's refraining himself

"You can be rougher with me, by the way. I'm not made of glass." I quietly tell him, tracing his face with my fingers as we search each others eyes.

"Yeah?" He raises an eyebrow. "How rough?"

"We could set up a safe word?" I suggest.

"Like what?"

"Juggle?"

Tommy laughs before he presses his forehead against mine. "That works."

***

"What the fuck was that?" Tommy asks shocked, trying to catch his breath as his hand trails down the bare skin on my back.

"I don't know but oh my god." I shake my head, resting my forehead on his shoulder.

"This needs to be a regular occurrence, it's too good not to be." Tommy states, throwing his head back in his leather desk chair.

"Definitely." I agree, beginning to catch my breath.

I pull back, looking at Tommy who looks at me with hooded eyes and a small genuine smile, seemingly in a daze; we both are.

"You look pretty like this, no walls up, exposed and genuine." Thomas tells me softly, pushing some hair out of my face before quickly yet gently brushing his lips against mine.

"You're only saying that because I'm naked on top of you." I retort, beginning to have feeling in my legs again after riding him in his chair.

"I've always thought your were the most gorgeous person in the world, you know that, fuck, everyone knows that." He says and my stomach turns into liquid heat.

"Stop." I bashfully reply, burying my face into his neck as he breathes a laugh, continuing to stroke my back.

"You're so cute." He chuckles, kissing the side of my head.

"I've gotta get back to work, as much fun as this was, I like making money." I state, swiftly sliding off his lap and searching for my clothes that are strewn about the room somehow.

"So, what do you think we should do about Mr Parsons?" Tommy asks me, watching me fasten the back of my bra.

"You're not considering doing business with him are you?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

"No, fuck no." He shakes his head, getting up out of his chair to also get dressed. "Can't just let him come out of here with no repercussions."

"Probably just scare him, he didn't necessarily do anything, was just extremely unprofessional and disrespectful." I give him my two cents, before slipping my thick and dark jumper over my head. "But if there's anything that needs blowing up, you know where to find me."

Tommy chuckles as he buttons his shirt up.

"Of course." He nods with a smile, watching me slip into my skirt. "I'll send Finn his way."

"Terrifying." I smirk, finding it hard to believe that the boy I watched grow up could be intimidating.

"You seemed scared of him when he knocked on the door." Tommy teases, brushing his hip against mine as he walks past me.

"Well obviously, you had me up against the wall he was on the other side of; anyone could've caught us." I retort, looking in a mirror to sort my hair out as Tommy seems to have a fascination with it.

"Oh, so you're ashamed of me now are you?" Tommy asks, a teasing glint to blue eyes.

"Yeah, you're my dirty little secret." I laugh, before tying my shoes up.

Tommy tilts his head back to laugh as he slips his blazer back on, both of us looking put together again as if we didn't just have mind blowing sex.

"I'm going to have to kick you out of my office if you're going to speak to me like that." Tommy states, as we both near the door.

"We should really stop fucking on here. Next time my house." I tell him, looking up at him and the funny bright look in his eyes.

"Oh, so their is going to be a next time?" Tommy smirks with a raised eyebrow, look in proud of himself.

"You know as well as I do that there's going to be a next time." I send him a knowing look and he subtly licks his lips, looking pleased. "Can't get rid of you Shelbys if I tried."

Tommy laughs and presses a quick smiley kiss to my lips, "Don't ever change."

That's the start of an extremely natural, fulfilling, fun and sensual relationship. Nothing really changed within our friendship, only that we see each other naked a lot more.

It's definitely brought us closer together. We were extremely close before everything happened but now it feels like we've gotten to a new level, definitely a more intimate level but we're closer than ever before.

It kinda feels like we should've been messing around the whole time, it feels silly that we weren't. What we've got is so much fun and honestly it's a nice stress reliever at the end of the day.

It doesn't feel like we're tarnishing our years long friendship, this feels natural and free flowing.

No one knows, we made that a strict rule. We always try to mess around in the privacy of our own homes, but sometimes when it's late and everyone's gone home we can help ourselves or if tensions get high throughout the day.

I'm pretty sure no one knows. When this all started Ada was visiting and we were slightly sloppy with our secrecy, and she kinda cornered Tommy and I at different times but we got away with it as she never mentioned it again. After that we got our act together and any suspicion that was around died.

It's relatively unexpected from us, although we've expressed our attraction and admiration for each other to other people, we've always said we'd never act on it or that it was even possible to feel anything but appreciation for each other.

I've always joked that it'd be awful to be in a relationship with Tommy and that I'd hate to wake up to him everyday.

We also have another rule to not fall in love, which I laughed at when Tommy asked me to not fall in love with him, and then I told him to not flatter himself.

It's been kinda exciting sneaking around with Tommy. I feel like I'm hiding the resident bad boy of the town from my parents, but in this case it's one of the most dangerous people in the country and I'm sneaking around in front of his family, friends, and co-workers.

We generally don't really see each other outside of work besides on the Sundays that he comes over to my house to get his hair cut. Almost everyday we spend a lot of time together when everyone's gone home or ended their work day, we work together a lot, and I guess we see each other at the pub a lot; but to see each other outside of those premises isn't often. I occasionally go to Thomas' house but not by choice, only if he needs me there or there's a crises or an event going on but if I'm honest I don't like his house, which I've told him before and he always laughs at me because of it.

I love my flat in the heart of Small Heath and you couldn't get me out of their if you tried. I've lived there for years and it's my own place to call home. I could easily afford a house like Tommy's but you'd have to kill me to get me out of my flat.

In recent times, my house has sort of become his residence as he's spent so much time here recently. It's not just sex, we'll sometimes go to my house after work or after some evening entertainment, have a meal or just talk which leads to sex, and then half the time Tommy will stay the night; which leads to us having to sneak into work together without raising any suspicions.

Like now, it's honestly too often you'd find Tommy in my bed the morning after as the sun is beginning to shine through my bedroom windows, talking in quiet voices and having a few laughs.

Letting out a soft laugh at Tommy, I rub my hand over my face wake myself up a little bit more.

It's well into the morning, Tommy and I are lying in my bed, surrounded by sun spots that are pouring through my worn French windows, the Birmingham bustle is in full swing a few floors below us that we can hear small swings of from the window that is just slightly open, yet it's calm and quiet in this plant ridden room.

Just our quiet voices as if we were confessing our darkest secrets with the occasional stranger's shouty voice drifting through the window, and soft touches like we're handling a rare and ancient piece of history.

"Do you miss it?" Tommy asks as we're going through old memories.

"I miss my only worries being if Matthew Kennedy liked be back or not and being young and carefree, but I also love my life right now." I reply.

"Oh yeah, you planned out your wedding, how many kids you were gonna have and everything." Tommy laughs, his eyes glazed over as he thinks back to simpler times.

"It was gonna be outside with as many flowers as possible and we were gonna have 3 children, twin girls and a boy." I chuckle along with him, looking up at the crisp white ceiling. "But it turned out he was a shit kisser and only wanted to see my bed."

"I can still remember the black eye you gave him for that." Tommy grins, almost proudly.

"Deserved it, knob." I shake my head as he snickers before pulling me into him with the arm under me, curling me into his side, leaving the cracked open window to tickle my bare back with soft gusts of air.

"You're so violent." Tommy mumbles, pressing a gentle kiss to my hairline.

"Only to those that deserve it, which is a lot." I explain, before looking up at him. "So I can see how you got confused in perceiving me as a violent person, it's okay, Tom."

He send me an annoyed look as his fingers trace my back.

"You're so annoying, I've never met someone who annoys me so much." Tommy shakes his head, but despite his words his fingers stay consistent in tracing my back, running over my scars and smooth skin.

"You love it." I grin up at him.

All he does is grunt in response.

We lapse into a comfortable silence, with my head rested on his shoulder and my body pressed against his side whilst he has his arm wrapped around me, almost sending me to sleep again with his soft hands tracing my body.

"I can't believe you took a bullet for me." Thomas breaks the silence, running his fingers over the scar in my back.

"Only by accident." I reply, still slightly pissed off, making Tommy chuckle.

"Well if you hadn't moved I'd be dead." He states, looking up at the ceiling and easy smile on his face.

"And to think that you thought I was joking when it happened and you laughed." I shake my head, not being able help my smile.

I still remember that day as clear as ever.

We were outside the betting den with Arthur and Michael and I went to give Tommy a hug before I said goodbye and left but as we went to embrace each other I got a bullet straight into the back. I originally crashed into him and he thought I was joking before I crashed to the floor and my blood soaked my flowery blouse, that's when the laughter died.

"I said I was sorry!" Tommy claims, sounding anything but sorry. "I took care of you in the end though."

"You tripped as you entered the door, you knob!" I counteract, remembering how I was losing blood rapidly soaking his shirt, and as I was in his arms I laughed when he tripped nearly falling over.

"I was only trying." Tommy pouts, brushing his knuckles against my shoulder.

"Thank you." I breathe a small laugh before pressing a feather like kiss to his collarbone.

"You're not welcome." He jokes, before grabbing his first cigarette of the day.

Rolling out of his arms and onto my side of the bed, I do the biggest stretch known to man along with a loud and long groan. When I open my eyes, Tommy's giving me a look which I only grin at to annoy him, laying my head on my folded forearms as I lie on my stomach; I can't help but sigh as all I want to do I stay in the bed all day, preferably with him, not that I'd ever tell him that.

"Want one?" Tommy asks, offering his cigarettes to me.

"You know I don't smoke before 11." I tell him.

"I still don't get why." He shakes his head, exhaling the smoke.

"Habit." I shrug, knowing that it doesn't make any sense but I still do it anyway.

Running my fingers through my hair, I glance at my wardrobe, knowing that I should get ready sooner than later. Shuffling up onto my knees, I make my way over to Tommy's side of the bed as my wardrobe is situated on the left side of the room, I swing my leg over his, taking a brief pew on his thighs.

"You need your hair cut." I note, combing through his slight bed-head hair with my slender fingers.

"I know, but someone keeps putting it off." Tommy drawls, sending me a brief look be for he taps off the ash from his cigarette.

"It's not my fault that you come over to do it but you end up doing me instead." I chuckle, and he smiles.

"What can I say, it's just more fun."

I roll my eyes with a fond a smile before I go to get off Tommy's lap and venture out of this unbelievably comfortable bed but Tommy stops me by placing his hands on my hips, locking me in place.

"Yes?" I raise an eyebrow.

Tommy presses his lips against mine, pulling me in for a sensual, gentle morning kiss which leaves me breathless and wanting more. So much more. His touch is softer than ever as he cups my face in one hand and trails the other over the skin of my waist.

"That's all." Tommy shrugs, brushing his nose against mine with a small smile.

I mirror his smile and capture his lips one last time before I finally get out of bed, making my way over to my wardrobe and pull both doors open, my eyes darting over the hangers.

Picking out a dark dress with bright coloured flowers that has slight and subtle bell bottom sleeves, I shimmy into that before I make my way across the room to look out the window.

"Aw, it looks like it's going to rain." I frown, closing the window.

Tommy puts out his cigarette and gets out of bed, joining me at the window. "When doesn't it?"

"True," I shrug, then turn my back to Tommy. "Can you do me up?"

"Mhm." He hums and begins to do the buttons of my dress up.

"Thank you." I flash him a grateful smile and make my way over towards my vanity to do my make up as Tommy starts to change into one of the handful of suits that he leaves at my house.

This has sort of become the norm for us, Tommy spends the night, we spend a little too much time in bed in the morning until we ultimately have to get ready do the day and we have some banter whilst we get dressed and ready, the friendly banter is usually halted with kisses that make me feel warm inside as well as make my toes curl which always throws me off with how we can go from being best friends to acting like a couple in seconds.

I guess we are called friends with benefits.

Then we go downstairs and I make him breakfast, we talk about anything that's going on around us, business or people before our day starts and as soon as my front door swings open, we resort back to being best friends like we've always been, as if the night before didn't happen.

It didn't start like that.

At first it was strictly just sex. He'd only stay for a couple hours unless I really wore him out and he'd stay the night as much as he didn't particularly want to. We were kind of keeping it a secret from ourselves, reserving it strictly for behind closed doors, you wouldn't of suspected a thing; we slowly began moving forward, we stayed the night more, touches weren't just for nightfall anymore, and we knew where we stood with each other.

We don't refrain from showing each other affection anymore. Before this all happened Tommy and I would go through phases of giving each other affection but now it's different. I'd place a lot of money down for a bet to see if Tommy could walk past me without brushing his hand over my waist or back; he just subconsciously does it every time.

Sometimes there are moments where Tommy will be speaking with someone across the room or there's a family - even though I'm not family - meeting, and all I wanna do is just kiss him.

"You look nice." Tommy comments, coming up behind me as I'm putting some earrings in in front of my vanity mirror, bowing down to look at what I'm doing.

"Thank you." I reply as Tommy wraps his arms around my waist and leans down to press his chin to my shoulder blade, looking at me through the mirror. "You look alright."

Tommy flashes me a boyish smile before pecking the skin showing through the little triangle cut out in the back of my dress.

***

"See you tomorrow." I send Polly a smile when she makes her way out of the workplace.

"Bye, love." She mirrors my smile and closes the door behind her, leaving just a few Peakys peaking around.

Casting my eyes back to my desk, I carry on with my important task at hand before it swallows me whole.

As time goes by I sink further into my chair, the lights get softer as more people leave and my workload goes down. A loud groan disrupts my flow and it sounds like it's coming from Tommy's office.

Pushing my chair out, I head over Tommy's way not bothering to knock and I find him leaning back in his chair, looking stressed and defeated. His head whips up to look at me, his hard eyes softening when he sees it's just me.

"Why's it so dark in here?" I raise an eyebrow, noting the few lamps that are on in here, casting the room in a subtle orange glow when I walk towards him.

"Hurts my eyes." Tommy grumbles and I round his desk, taking a seat on his lap, his hand grazing my ass in the process.

"What's got you so gloomy?" I enquire, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw, feeling some tension release from his body as he settles into me.

"Just so much to do, so little time." Tommy replies with a soft sigh, placing his hand on my thigh and with his other hand he brushes some hair that got caught on my lipstick before he settles it around me.

"Seems that's how life's going these days." I mumble softly, sweeping the hair off of Tommy's forehead, causing him to close his eyes momentarily. "You should be careful not to overwork yourself, Tom. You make shit decisions when you're tired."

"What can I say? You tire me out." Tommy says with a fond smirk and slightly hooded eyes.

"You're a piece of work, got to put you to bed somehow." I fire back, matching his smirk.

Pressing my lips to the sensitive skin on his neck, working my way up towards his sharp jawline, Tommy lets out a satisfied sigh, beginning to properly relax. Connecting our lips in a sweet and short kiss, Tommy squeezes my thigh as I kiss him one time, two times, three times before going back to his neck.

"Mr Shelby?" Someone calls from behind the closed door with a hesitant knock.

We're too far gone to really care who it is or what they want so Tommy sighs and grants them entrance as I continue to work my magic on him. In comes a new lower ranked Peaky Blinder who's eyes widen at the sight of us, which it would be shocking to see us right now as everyone assumes we're still just best friends but here I am sat comfortably on Tommy's lap, marking him up.

"What can I do for you, Frank?" Thomas questions, trailing his hand up my thigh.

This poor boy is speechless, not knowing how to react and he looks like he wants to get out of this room as soon as possible.

"Uh, I just came in here to tell you that I've uh finished everything you asked me to do and it uhh all went smoothly." Frank states with anything but confidence.

"Great, thanks." Tommy responds, tilting his head to the side to give me more space.

Frank escapes the room as soon as possible and I chuckle at the hard working boy. We both know that he'd never utter a word to anyone about what he saw, that's why we didn't freak out. The boy want to go up in this company and he'll do anything to please anyone higher than him; he's too gentle and easily persuaded for this world.

"Is that everyone gone?" Tommy asks me.

"Should be." I confirm with a small nod.

"Perfect."

The next thing I feel is Tommy's hand creeping up my skirt.

***

"What?" Tommy utters, staring at a lower ranked Peaky Blinder with an ice cold stare.

"It's not my fault! I tried to get him to agree but---"

"Not your fault? This whole plan went down the drain because of you!" Tommy states, not believing the man.

"He had a gun to my head, what was I supposed to do?!" Matthew asks outraged.

"You should taken someone fucking with you, not just thought that you knew best! You need a wake up call because if you want to remain in this company you should know that that shit doesn't fly around here. Could've taken John, Arthur, Cora, fuck, even Michael for fuck sake, not just make decisions as you go along." Thomas retorts, frustrated beyond belief as he rubs his hands over his face.

"What's all the shouting about?" Polly questions as she comes up beside me from being in another room.

"Mathew fucked up and gave away Tommy's plans and shit, along with some other stuff that i don't quite know the details of, so Tom's losing his shit." I fill her in, looking up at her from where I'm sitting and she's standing.

"How the fuck did that happen?" She asks, confused.

"He ran into some trouble on the way or something, I'm not sure, I only came in half way through." I take an unsure guess.

"Men." She shakes her head, letting out a sigh.

"Boys." I correct, making her cackle as she turns to move further into the room.

"I don't need a babysitter, and I sure as hell am not gonna take a female with me." Mathew states in defence, his so called manhood damaged by the thought of a woman being able to do his job better than him.

Tommy huffs a small laugh.

"I wear heels bigger than your dick!" I joke from across the room, not taking his serious comment seriously.

"Just get out of my sight before I force you to." Tommy huffs, turning around and heading up to his office, not being gentle with the door as he closes it behind him.

"I'll go talk to him." I roll my eyes, getting up out of my chair, grabbing the knife from off my desk with me. "And you..." I start, showing Mathew my weapon. "Try not to be a sexist twat next time you're even vaguely threatened by a woman. We hold a lot more power than you can, so remember that next time." I give him a sly wink as I twirl the extremely sharp knife around my fingers.

Heading into Tommy's office, I lean against the door after I close it, watching Tommy lean over his desk, head hung low, tension present in his muscles.

"What is it with people not sticking to the plan?" Tommy grumbles, not bothering to turn around and face me.

"Some people think they know best, I guess." I say, coming up behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist, feeling some tension leave his body.

"He's my employee, this is not what I'm employing him for. I'm not paying him to fuck up." Tommy shakes his head as I press my cheek against his back.

"I know." I say, knowing he doesn't really want me to say anything, he just needs comforting and someone to vent to.

"This whole plan has gone to shit, I've spent weeks trying to perfect it, and the easiest task got fucked." He huffs.

"You shouldn't of trusted him to it, the man can't even tie a tie." I state, looking out of the window.

"I just thought I'd give him a chance, a try, whatever, but I shouldn't of." Tommy replies, lifting his head up.

"You learn from these things, got to know where you stand with the people around you." I tell him, moving my hands from around his waist to hooking under his shoulders.

"I guess, but I just expected more from him." Tommy responds.

And so I let my best friend vent some more, not just about this incident but anything that's on his mind, only replying when I feel the need to, and I think it worked because he's not all worked up anymore, the tension has dropped in his body, and he seems at peace.

"Thank you." Tommy utters, taking my face in his hands.

"For what?" I breathe a small laugh, holding onto his forearms.

"For just always being there for me, day or night, for the big things and the small things, I don't know how I could ever thank you enough." He says, stepping into my bubble, looking more sincere than ever.

"You do the same for me, that's more than enough." I assure, looking deep into his deep blue eyes. "Thank you for being my best friend."

Tommy smiles a small smile, before giving me a kiss, pulling me impossibly close to him, both of our smiles growing.

***

Glancing over towards the clock on the bedside table, seeing the time reads 6:30, I've got a long day ahead of me and I need to catch up on quite a few things as I seem to be slacking because I've been spending all my time with the duvet hogger to the left of me.

Granted it's not my house or room so I have no claim on it, but I seem to spend more time here than my own house; it feels more like home here, anyway.

Letting out a quiet yawn, I look over at Cora next to me, seeing how she's dead to the world looking effortlessly gorgeous whilst she's fast asleep. Her dark hair is splayed out on her pillow, her long eyelashes resting on her cheeks, and her bare shoulders are poking out of the duvet, with a small sun spot shining on her, and she just looks so pretty.

It feels weird not waking up next to her nowadays, it feels so natural seeing her warming up the other half of either mine or her's bed.

Sitting up, I shuffle out of bed and start to get dressed and I can't help but think of how I could get used to this.

Beginning to get ready for the day without waking up Cora, I don't bother with breakfast as I just don't have the time. Doing a once over in the mirror, I head over to Cora who's half awake to let her know that I'm leaving.

"Cora, lovie." I say softly, placing my hand on her exposed arm.

"Hm?" She hums, giving me a peak of her green eyes as she purses her lips briefly.

"'M gonna head into work now, I'll see you later on, eh?" I inform, watching her slowly wake up.

"Okay, have fun." Cora wishes, readjusting the sheet on her bare chest.

"Oh I'll try." I joke, brushing some hair away from her face with a fond smile. "I'll see you later." I tell her, planting a quick kiss on her lips.

She chuckles.

"Look at us, like an old married couple, who'd of thought?"

"Terrifying." I laugh, asking her laugh as I leave the room with a smile on my face that stays on my face until I open the front door, and as I'm walking to work I can't help but think that that doesn't sound so bad.

Leaning back in my chair, I grab a cigarette and flick my lighter against the end, quickly exhaling what I inhale before clearing my throat a little.

"I look forward to what the future holds for us, Mr Shelby." Mr Cliffo states, clearly chuffed with the way this meeting went.

"As do I, Mr Cliffo, as do I." I reply, wanting to get him out of my office as soon as possible as I've still got so much to do today.

"You've got a nice thing going on here, great business attitude, trust worthy co workers, it seems like your family really has its heart in this company." Mr Cliffo drawls, looking around the room.

"Yes, all of us here believe in this company and always want to strive closer towards our goals and ambitions." I nod, bringing my cigarette to my mouth again.

"I have to ask as curiosity has gotten the best of me, where's the woman that usually attends our meetings?" Mr Cliffo questions, and I sigh, it seems like everyone takes interest in my best friend nowadays.

She's extremely captivating and has a mysterious aura to her, Cora just has this way of drawing you in and making you want to know as much about her as possible.

"Busy." I inform, watching him carefully, how he has a ghost of smile on his face and seemingly looking back on his few interactions with her.

"I've missed her little quips and ideas." He tells me.

Widening my eyes as I let out an exasperated huff, I stand up and head towards the door, hopefully giving him the hint to get the fuck out of my office.

Which he does, so he stands up whilst doing the buttons of his blazer up, approaching me by the door.

"Pretty little thing she is." He says fondly, but not in a creepy way just a genuine compliment.

"She's certainly a head turner." I nod, not being able to deny it.

"Well, I must get going, errands to run." Mr Cliffo states and opens the door. "I'm sensing a promising future here, Mr Shelby."

"I'll look forward to it." I say, escorting him out to hurry him up.

We enter the main room where everyone seems to be, the shouting across the room and bustling noises greet us.

"Have a good day, Mr Shelby." Mr Cliffo bids and we shake hands briefly before he leaves, leaving me to head into John's office to relay some information about the meeting I just had.

"Good meeting?" John questions as I lean against the door frame.

"As good as a meeting with Mr Cliffo can go." I half joke, folding my arms.

"Still a boring middle aged fuck?" John laughs, dropping his pen.

"More of less." I confirm with a small chuckle.

I'm half way through telling John about what happened and our plans when there's a commotion on the other side of the room. I look over my shoulder and find Cora pinning Mr Cliffo against the wall with the knife that she keeps in her stockings under his chin

He looks sheepish, slightly terrified, and completely taken of guard whilst she looks dangerous, pissed off and not the slightest bit hesitant.

"What the fuck is goin' on?" John enquires, joining me in the doorway. "Fuck yeah, I love when she brings the knives out." He practically cheers for her.

"Touch me or any of the woman in here again and you won't see the next sunrise." Cora promises, and in some weird way I can't help but smile a little as she looks so natural at this.

"What's some woman gonna do?" Mr Cliffo attempts to belittle her in order to save his so called manhood.

That's not what he was saying about her earlier.

Cora sharply brings her knee to his crotch making him pale and let out an agonising groan. The impact enough to make any man wince.

"First time a woman's touched your dick in years, is it?" She taunts, pushing the knife into his skin.

He can't get any words out, clearly in too much pain.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" She all but smirks. "Get out of here before you do something you'll regret." Cora states and Mr Cliffo stumbles out of the door, no doubt planning to avoid this building for the rest of his life.

"Fucking hell, I learnt the day I met her not to fuck with Cora Witton and I'm still scared of her." John tells me, subtly interlacing his hands over his crotch making me breathe a laugh.

"Ladies." Cora grins at the women who she just protected from Mr Cliffo, and they mirror her smile.

"She may be small but she will hurt you." I comment watching her tuck her knife back in her stocking, not caring that people can see.

"No hesitation." John adds before he goes back to his desk.

"What the fuck were you thinking doing business with him?" Cora questions as she comes up to me, not mad just curious.

"We've worked with him before, thought I'd take it further." I shrug.

"And after each meeting he grabs my ass." She rolls her eyes, mirroring my folded arms.

"That's him?" I raise an eyebrow, surprised.

"Kinda." She nods, widening her eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't know, lovie." I say softly before kissing her cheek breifly. "This is why I need you in my meetings, give me honest and better judgement."

"Speaking of which, business is done and dealt with, Finn and Isiah are just finishing it up." Cora informs.

"Did it go smoothly?" I question, staring down at her.

"More or less." She nods and she's about to explain before Michael calls her over. "I'll tell you later." Cora tells me, gently fixing my tie before she heads over to Michael.

"You're close." John states, a teasing tone creeping into his voice along with the growing smirk.

"Fuck off." I grumble and leave his doorway, entering mine.

***

"Hi." Cora sings when she enters my office, an unfamiliar baby on her hip.

"Who's this?" I question, leaning back in my chair.

"My neighbour's son." She says, tucking some blonde hair behind the baby's ear.

"It's illegal to take people's children, Cora." I tell her, smiling when she rolls her eyes.

"My neighbour needed someone to watch him for like 15 minutes." She informs, sitting down in the chair opposite me, situating the young boy on her lap who's fascinated with the bracelet on her wrist.

"What's his name?"

"Ronnie."

"Is this the neighbour that complained about the noise?" I ask, with a cheeky smirk

"Yeah, I still can't look them in the eye." She bashfully answers, smiling through the pain.

I laugh as I look back on that experience, it traumatised her so much that we did all our rendezvous on my house for the next month until people started getting suspicious so we went back to her house most of the time.

"You do a lot of things, Cora, yet you can't look your neighbour in the eyes because they heard us one time." I state, amused.

"Uh, I highly doubt it was just the once." She confidently claims.

"Why don't you just move somewhere more remote?" I suggest, already knowing the answer.

"I can't! I love my place, you know that." Cora replies, readjusting Ronnie on her lap. "Isn't that right, Mr Ronnie?" She coos.

I rest my chin on my palm, hiding my smile behind my knuckles. She looks like such a natural with him and seeing her with a baby makes a weird thought come into mind and I can't help but entertain that thought.

Half of me and half of her, dear god help the child who's cursed with that.

A sarcastic and cocky bastard riddled with trauma and seemingly never ending problems.

I'm not planning on having a child with Cora ever, but the idea is entertaining and gives me an odd feeling.

She'd be an amazing mum, she would do anything for anyone that she loves, and to receive her love is one of the greatest things in the world. As I'm looking at her now, I want some of that.

I'd like a beautiful baby who's half me and half her.

"What you daydreaming about, Shelby?" Cora brings me out of the thoughts I'd never utter to her.

"Nothing." I shake my head, and try to busy myself with the work in front of me.

"In all the years I've known you, Tommy, there's always something in your head." Cora says knowingly, a teasing smile creeping on her face.

"Not true." I deceive.

"I'll find out, some day, I always do."

Not even over my dead body.

"Are you coming over tonight?" She questions, crossing her legs.

"Depends, do you want me to?" I retort, looking over at her.

"I think you know the answer to that." Cora tells me, meeting my eyes, a sly glint prevalent in her eyes.

"No?" I guess.

"Of course I do." She chuckles, her smile lighting up the room.

"Tell you what, I'll finish this in the next... 20 minutes/half an hour then we'll head over to your flat, and see where the evening takes us." I suggest, despite the fact that I still got at least a third of work to do today but this girl just does things to me.

"You and I both know exactly where the evening will take us." Cora laughs, running her hand through her hair.

"The sooner we're out of here, the sooner we can get there." I reply, sending her a knowing look.

"Sounds like a plan." Cora grins, gathering Ronnie before leaving the room.

***

"Ready?" I ask, brushing my hand over Cora's shoulder as I walk past her.

"Mhm, just need to give this to Michael." She hums, getting out of her chair to head over to Michael as I get my coat.

"Where are you two going?" Polly muses, leaning back almost smugly in her chair, a cigarette burning in her fingers.

"Home." I answer, turning to look at her.

"Early for you." Polly acknowledges, looking as if she knows something I don't.

"Maybe so, Pol, maybe so." I nod as Cora walks over towards us.

"Ready?" She questions and I nod before I guide us out of here by draping my arm over her shoulders, opening the front door, seeing its beginning to rain. "Shit, I didn't bring a coat." Cora pouts.

"I did." I smugly say, stepping outside and she tugs at the sleeves of her dress until she steps out, too.

We begin to walk the 15 minute walk to Cora's place, chatting about random things on the way, the rain only getting heavier; luckily we're sheltered by the roofs of the houses hanging over the pavement.

"No one annoys me more than my sister, not even you and you're really high up there, like too high." She tells me, making me grin, that's my favourite pastime.

"It's just so easy to do, nothing amuses me more than when you're annoyed." I chuckle, looking down at her annoyed glare and feigning pain when she punches me in the arm, watching her fold her arms to keep herself warm.

"I retract my statement, you annoy me the mos---" she cuts herself off when I drape my coat over her shoulders. "Tommy Shelby, you're so romantic." Cora laughs, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"I try." I mumble, with a small smile as we turn a corner.

"Fuckin' hell, rain's giving no mercy." She points out, and we both look out at the rain that's pelting down, making puddles and leaking through unlucky people's roofs.

Luckily we're sheltered by said roofs; for now.

Grabbing Cora's hand, I pull her out of the protection of the roofs into the rain, making her squeal and laugh which is just music to my ears as I laugh along with her.

"Tommy!" She exclaims and I pull her into my arms, pressing her against me as our hair and clothes get soaked.

"Cora!" I imitate to annoy her, as she wraps her arms loosely around my neck, bringing us even closer. I look into her eyes, seeing how carefree she looks, how much her face is lit up, the smile that always makes me weak in the knees, and how happy she looks, it makes me unbelievably happy. "Kiss me."

"What? Out in open? People can see us, rumours will spread." Cora tells me as she sweeps some soaked hair off my forehead and to the side.

"So? People are already suspicious." I shrug, cupping her cheek. "Kiss me."

She breathes a laugh before pressing her lips to mine, the both of us smiling into it.

I've never smiled as much as the time I spend with this girl.

We stand in the middle of the road, raining cats and dogs on us, intertwined with each other, more than just physically, out in the open.

Pulling back slowly, we take each other in with soft eyes and smiles, and as I'm looking at her right now, all I can feel is love.

I'm in love with my best friend.

Deeply in love.

I could call myself crazy but the way she's looking at me right now and how she's making me feel, I'd say she feels the exact same.

The words are on the tip of my tongue, aching to be said but I'm not brave enough, so I settle with kissing her again instead.

I'm scared to the bone but I'm also kind of revelling in it as it's a new feeling and fuck does it feel good.

"You look pretty in the rain."

"As do you."

***

After a successful business move that we've all been hard at work on for the past month, that called for a celebration, right? Which is why we're in The Garrison this evening, nestled in the private room full of Shelbys, Grays, and a few other Peakys including myself.

Which is predictably chaos.

"To business." Michael toasts, holding his drink up.

"To business." We all toast, clinking glasses.

"Michael, for fucks sake, you've made that toast like 10 times tonight." John groans, rubbing his forehead clearly exasperated.

"I'm a little drunk, and you keep joining so you're all as bad as me." Michael states, and there's some truth to his words.

We're all a little drunk, some more than others. Not to name names or anything but I'm definitely looking at Arthur, Finn and possibly Polly, not to mention Michael. The rest of us are tipsy, definitely feeling the buzz in our systems, but not off our face.

Although that might change as the night goes on.

"To business!" Arthur vindicates, and I groan, making Tommy chuckle.

"On behalf of my family, I am so sorry." Tommy jokes from beside me.

"What is it with you Shelbys and your liquor?" I question, leaning my head on his shoulder as I look at him.

"Born with it in our bloodstreams." Tommy tells me, brushing his fingertips against my arm as his arm is draped around the back of my part of the booth.

We're kind of in our own bubble in the corner, occasionally piping up with a quip or an opinion but we're mainly talking to each other like we've always done in these sort of circumstances.

"I assume you came out of the womb with a cigarette too, right?" I tease, crossing my legs.

"Yeah, the midwife was waiting with a match." He jokes with a small laugh, his smile staying on his face.

"I can't imagine you as a child. Of course I've known you since we were in year 9, and I'd seen you around a few times in secondary school, but to imagine you as an 8 year old is really hard." I tell him, smiling at the thought.

"Well first of all I was adorable, let's get that out of the way." Tommy states, trying to conceal his smirk.

"You still are!" I tease, earning myself a blank look.

"The ladies loved me." He continues.

"Even with your bad haircut?" I laugh, I've heard so much about his haircuts in the past that family members did for him.

"That's what brought them in, you whore." Tommy laughs which makes me laugh.

"Of course, all that extra hair just propelled these so called ladies to you."

"Exactly." He confirms as if it's obvious. "I've heard stories from your childhood from your family or partners." Tommy informs, a mischievous look in his eyes

"You know only what I want you to know."

"You're forgetting that I know every single thing about you, everything." Tommy says, nudging his knee against mine.

"I highly doubt that, every single thing? Really?" I question, nudging him back.

"Yeah."

"How old was I when I stopped hating you?" I test him, turning slightly to look at him.

"Trick question, you never stopped." Tommy answers, grinning because he knows he's right and I huff. "Yet you still suck my dick almost every night." He mumbles, making me punch him which only makes him laugh.

"I don't hear you complaining." I retort.

"I'd never." Tommy shakes his head. "Why don't we go back to your place and I'll show you how appreciative I am." He suggest, placing his hand on my thing under the table.

"Don't you want to celebrate with your family?" I question, looking over at everyone who's more or less plastered.

"Lovie, you are my celebration." Tommy tells me fondly, tucking some hair behind my ear.

This is the thing with Tommy. He can make you feel so special and make you feel like you're the only person in the room, despite the fact that it's filled with loads of people. He can set off a load of fireworks inside of you without even really trying.

"How about you meet me in the back room in five minutes..." Tommy suggests, sending me a mischievous smile.

"Sounds like a plan." I reply, matching his smile.

"I'm gonna go get more alcohol." Tommy announces, but no one's really listening, and Tommy leaves the room, leaving me alone with his family.

"I'm so glad that I never have to talk to another Bulgarian in my life." Finn says, as I tune into the family's conversation.

"What if you fall in love with one one day?" I question and he turns to me.

"Simply impossible." Finn shakes his head.

"You can't control who you love; you can lie to yourself, deny yourself of it, but it'll always be there." I tell him, sitting up straight ready to go.

"You can definitely control who you love, I can also choose who, when, and where." Finn disagrees, taking a sip of his drink.

"Okay, say you chose to fall in love with the old lady that lives next door to you. Could you do that?" I question, watching him falter as everyone chuckles at him.

"What do you know about love anyway?" Finn asks in a grumble, downing the rest of his drink.

I know a little something about unrequited love.

"I got proposed to." I retort, sending him an obvious look.

"Which you laughed at before walking away from him." He argues, with a laugh.

"Broke the poor guy's heart in front of everyone." Arthur stifles a laugh, refilling his glass.

"Who proposes after 2 years together?" I question, folding my arms.

"Loads of people." John answers, an amused look on his face.

"Shit, maybe I don't know much about love." I join the laughter almost sheepishly.

"I love being in love, it's one of the best feelings in the world." Polly states, leaning back in her chair with a dazed look in her eyes.

"Love is whenever something happens in your life, good or bad, you immediately want to tell them. When you know you can go to them for anything. Knowing you can do anything and they'll always be there for you. When they can always make you laugh, despite anything. Just feeling at home with them, basically. Love is when they're your home." Arthur despite being drunk, eloquently speaks.

My mind instantly goes to Tommy.

He's all of that.

Always has been.

"Love is never far, it's always closer than you think." Polly states, and I look over at her and find that she's already looking at me. Her eyes boring into my soul.

"The only things I love in my life is me and my flat." I announce, and get up to go meet Tommy.

"What about me?" Finn questions, looking up at me with puppy-like look adorning his face.

"Aww." I smile and ruffle his hair. "No."

Opening the door to be greeted with the rest of The Garrison that isn't closed off, I step out and close the door behind me, my eyes scanning the room. Rolling my eyes when I see Tommy talking to some guy at the bar.

He spots me as I approach him, a small smile quirking at his mouth.

"Sorry, I've got some business to attend to." Tommy excuses himself and swiftly yet subtly follows me through the room.

"Is that what I am now? Business?" I tease, as we're out of earshot from anyone around us.

"No, you're a lot more fun than business." Tommy says, grabbing my hand as we push past the doors that lead to the backrooms down the long corridor.

"I don't know, sometimes you get quite excited when things are going well." I tell him, making him laugh which resonates in this empty corridor. "Although---"

I'm cut off by Tommy pressing me up against the wall as he attaches his mouth to mine eagerly. Cupping his face, I match his pace and pull him closer as he buries his fingers in my hair and pins me against the wall with his hips.

"You're so pretty, lovie." Tommy whispers, making me grin.

"So are you." I chuckle, knowing how much he hates when I call him pretty despite the tiny blush that flushes his cheeks.

"You just love to remind me that you're my best friend, don't you?" He asks with a smile.

"Yeah." I laugh and kiss him again before Tommy begins to guide us to a more private area as our kiss begins to heat up and hands are roaming.

The door slams against the wall as we enter a storage room that is surprisingly clean, the heavy wooden door closes itself and Tommy and I stumble our way through the room as our bodies heat up until we hit a wall, I let out a breathy moan at the sensation of being able to feel ever curve and dip of Tommy.

Disconnecting our lips, Tommy dips his head to attach his mouth to my neck as I pant, beginning to fiddle with the buttons of my dress.

"Uh, Tommy? Cora?" A voice hesitantly speaks up, and we freeze.

You could hear a pin drop.

I look to my left and see Michael staring at us with wide eyes, looking scared yet too shocked to really form an opinion.

"Hi, Michael." I sheepishly greet as Tommy drops his head to my shoulder in defeat briefly.

"Has this been going on this whole time?" Michael asks after some silence, rubbing his nose.

"What are you even doing here anyway, Michael?" Tommy asks, turning to face him.

"I was uh... meeting a friend." Michael says. "Not your kind of friend though."

I look past him and see the small container splayed out on some stacked up pallets. "Friend, really?"

"Yep." He nods, inhaling sharply as he refuses to look us in the eyes.

"Not doing lines off old rotting pallets?" I suggest, putting my weight on one foot.

"To--- Who are you to judge me when you guys are fucking or whatever under people's noses?" Michael accuses, acting out. "Has this been going this whole time? You've been sneaking around for years?"

"What does it matter to you?" Tommy and I say simultaneously.

"Are guys together or what?" Michael questions, looking between us.

Tommy and I look at each other, not being able to come up with an answer.

"How does it concern you with what we do privately?" Tommy questions, looking pissed.

"I don't know about priva---"

I cut Michael off as I push him against the wall, swiftly pulling my knife out and holding I under his chin whilst I have my hand pressed against his collar. "You say a fucking word to anyone, your mum, your friends, your butcher, your fucking dentist and you'll be fresh meat." I warn as I look into his blown out eyes. "Understand?"

"Cora---"

"Understand?" I repeat, pressing the blade into his skin.

"Yes, I won't utter a word!" Michael conforms, keeping eye contact.

"Good." I grin, and affectionately clap his cheek. "Tell your mum I'll be in late tomorrow." I inform as I put away my knife before stepping back to Tommy, who runs his hand down my back and rests it on the small of my back.

"We're trusting you, Michael." Tommy tells him, giving him a stern look before we head out the door.

"Stay off the snow will you, Michael?" I suggest over my shoulder before the door slams shut.

"You're so violent, like my little weapon." Tommy teases, intertwining our fingers and I squeeze his hand lightly.

"How much do you trust him?" I question, as we walk down the long corridor.

"As long as we've got you around, I'd say 100 per cent." Tommy jokes. "As long as we don't have any interactions like that again, I'd say he's pretty trust worthy."

"Right." I nod, taking in his words. "Back to my house?"

"We're still celebrating, aren't we?" Tommy states, making me chuckle but it's short lived as I can't help but frown when he drops my hand as we enter the open again.

My heart sinks.

"Just wanna remind you that we've got a wedding next week." Tommy says and I roll my eyes.

You forget one important shoot out that's been planned for months and suddenly he has to remind you of every important thing for the rest of time.

"You didn't propose though?" I reply, gliding through groups of people.

"I didn't?" He raises an eyebrow, looking down at me with a small smirk.

"No, you didn't." I shake my head, smiling.

"Oh, shame, you look good in white."

***

"Well Arthur, the big day's come." I say, as I flip my collar up to put my tie on.

"Indeed, it has indeed." Arthur nods, taking a seat on the large ottoman in the middle of the room.

"Our Arthur's finally settling down, eh?" John smirks as he looks in the mirror to do his hair again.

"God help Linda." Finn grumbles, slipping into his blazer.

"Already is." John widens his smirk.

"I don't see any of you getting married so fuck off." Arthur replies, disregarding John.

"To be fair, he's got a point... god can only do so much." I state, tightening my tie and putting my collar down.

"Oi, you can barely keep your woman on the reigns." Arthur retorts, pointing a finger at me, as the others snicker.

"I've not got a woman." I reply although I know who and what they're talking about.

"You know, the girl you're always around." Arthur tells me, and I huff with a small smile at their tomfoolery.

"You mean the girl who punched you and you practically cried when she was like 14?" I ask, pulling my cigarettes out.

"She'd fucking kill you if she knew you were talking about her like this, Arthur." Finn says, smirking.

"Even if she were my so called woman, not that you'd ever be able to make her conform to that title, she cannot be owned. Not just because of feminism but she's too wild for that, she'd also punch me and that hurts." I state, lighting my cigarette.

"I think it's the other way 'round." John muses, gesturing with his cigar. "She's got you on the reigns."

"Have any of you lot seen Cora?" Polly asks as she bursts into the room, dressed in a fancy dress.

"No."

"Not seen her all morning."

"Not seen her since this morning."

"Me either."

"Fuck sake. She can do everything but turn up on time." Polly grumbles, shaking her head. "Well come on then. Time's getting on and the bride won't wait forever."

We all exit the room one by one, following Polly through the building but we stop short when we see Cora stepping into the entrance hall, looking up at the ceiling as she lights a cigarette, showcasing the thin but long scar on her throat that gave me nightmares when it happened.

"Shelbys!" She beams when she sees us, taking a drag of her cigarette, looking temptingly appetising.

"What time do you call this, Witton?" Polly barks, sending daggers Cora's way.

"There's plenty of time! Don't worry about it." Cora waves Polly off but all I can focus on is how good she looks.

Her dress has a few layers of thin, see through tulle with flowers embroidered into it, the underneath is a champagne sort of pink coloured dress that shines through subtly, the length sinks all the way down to her feet, it's cinched in at the waist with a controversial slit at the side showcasing her leg, and her sleeves are made of the same see through tulle that hangs off her shoulders to tickle her elbow in waves. Her hair is pinned up with a handful of thick curls dangling around her face, and her make up is subtle which really makes her green eyes pop.

She looks like an angel to put it simply.

"Careful, you'll catch flies." John smirks, elbowing me.

I push him back making him knock into Finn which causes him to start an argument.

The art of diversion.

"Nice dress." I comment when she looks over at me.

"Thanks, it has pockets." Cora replies, giving me a demonstration.

"Thought it was supposed to be the bride who's the prettiest today." I state quietly as no one seems to be listening to us.

"Aw, you're too kind." She smiles before pecking my cheek and guiding us towards the church.

***

An around of applause and cheers resonate in the tall church as Arthur and Linda kiss, I can't help but smile at the happy couple.

"How long?" Tommy jokes when he mumbles into my ear.

"Stop!" I laugh, continuing to clap.

"We're married!" Arthur announces as he and Linda turn to face everyone with grins.

Another round of applause goes around the room, mixed with whistles, hoots, and cheers. Arthur and Linda walk down the aisle as a newly wedded couple before everyone slowly begins to follow them for photos outside.

"I can't imagine you getting married." Tommy states when we stand up.

"I'm hurt, Thomas." I reply, shuffling out of the pew.

"You seem too... independent and strong." Tommy digs himself a bigger hole.

"What? So the point of marriage is supposed to break me?" I question with a chuckle.

"No, just the traditional way is that you'd stay at home, looking after the children, cooking or baking, and waiting for your husband to come home." He answers. "And that's not you... but I like that about you."

"I'm never stopping for some man, men don't deserve rights." I shake my head.

"Oh right." Tommy laughs, slinging his arm around my shoulders as we walk down the aisle. "I guess you work with a lot of males so you can say that."

"Thank you, for letting me, a woman, know what I can say and what I'm allowed to say, thank you husband." I joke and he bumps his hip against mine in response.

"The nagging wife part though, you've got that down." Tommy replies, weaving us through people as I lace our hands together with the hand that was dangling in front of my chest from where his arm is draped over my shoulders.

"Fuck off." I laugh, the fresh spring air hitting my face as we enter the outside, gathering at the back of the large group of people posing for photos.

"You love it." He grins before pressing a kiss to my cheek as I laugh.

A flash blinds me momentary, and I inwardly groan.

A few more photos, Tommy and I trying to annoy each other, and laughs later and we head off to the party.

***

"I've known Arthur since I was like 15, it feels weird to watch him get married after all this time." I tell a stranger that I've been talking to for the past 10 minutes.

"I've grown up with Linda, I've not heard the end of this wedding since she was 10." Linda's cousin makes a joke which I fake laugh at, before taking a sip from my flute of champagne. "Are you getting married anytime soon?"

"Oh, no, god no." I shake my head, chuckling.

"Really? Aren't you with Arthur's brother, what's his name? Thomas is it?" She questions.

"Tommy? We're not really together, well we aren't... Thomas is amazing but..."

"But?" She smiles warmly as if she's just done something.

Why aren't we together is the better question, Tommy is everything I've ever wanted, he respects me, makes me feel like I'm more special that I am, is always there for me no matter what, and can make me feel so carefree, I'm in love with him but he's just not.

"But he isn't one for relationships." I answer. "I'm gonna go annoy some of your family, you make me think when I'm here to get drunk. I don't like that."

Her smile falls and I float off towards a group of strangers, ready to judge.

"I heard that the Shelbys shot someone who accidentally bumped into them once." A middle aged man says quietly.

Perfect, this is the group I want to annoy.

"Really? I heard that they give their children guns." A little younger woman matches his tone.

"That's nothing, I heard that they stab children who beg." I cut in, doing this big exaggerated look around the circle.

"I heard that they hurt people who gossip." Polly comes out of no where, and I can't help but smirk at her when she meets my eyes.

"Are you two Shelbys?" A snooty woman questions with a sigh before sipping her drink.

"No." I answer, which isn't a lie.

"I'm Arthur's aunt and she's his brother's girlfriend." Polly states and I glare at her, before tucking my hair behind my ear and subtly flipping her off, which she suppresses a smirk at.

"Oh, I see. You seem like lovely people." Another woman replies with a tight lipped smile.

"We are." I nod.

"If you stay on the right side of us." Polly adds, lighting a cigarette.

"But if you don't, we'll drag you through hell."

"Simple really." Polly shrugs lightly.

"Of course... we're family now, nothing but love." The same woman replies with a nervous laugh.

As Polly makes them more uncomfortable I look over my shoulder at Tommy across the room, who's sitting at a large table with a few people but I don't think he's interacting with anyone really, cigarette and liquor in hand. He gives me a wink which makes me smile, and he gestures for me to come over with a nod of his head.

Leaving the group and Polly, I cross the room all the way to my best friend who takes a drag from his cigarette as I stand behind him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, letting my hands dangle above his chest life a necklace.

"Are you done antagonising Linda's family?" Tommy questions with a tiny chuckle.

"Not yet. They're so judgy." I reply, accepting Tommy cigarette when he offers it to me.

"Where do you think Linda gets it from?" He rhetorically asks.

"You look very pretty." I inform, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead when he looks up at me.

"If I look pretty you must be the prettiest person in the world." Tommy says, fiddling with my hands.

"Always a charmer you Shelbys." I tease.

"Eh we know how to talk the talk." He jokes, squeezing my hand. "Do you wanna dance?"

I look out at the dance floor where all the couples seem to be, it's a little bit crowded but seems comfortable.

"Sure." I nod and Tommy stands up before offering his hand with a boyish smile.

I match his smile and take his hand, Tommy leads us to the dance floor where I place my hand on his shoulder, keeping the other comfortably in his hand, whilst Tommy places his hand on my lower back. The song is quite a fast paced one, so there's no room for a slow dance.

Tommy and I expertly shuffle through the dance floor, him twirling me out every now and then, as we talk and laugh. "Why are old ladies so judgy?"

"I don't know, their better days are behind them and they can't get over that." Tommy offers an amused suggestion.

"I think it's because they---" I cut myself off with a squeal when Tommy surprises me by twirling me out into the dance floor making me laugh. "Give me a warning next time!"

He just smiles down at me as he looks into my eyes. "No, I like making you laugh."

"You always make me laugh, especially with your questionable choices." I tease, squeezing his hand. "I mean what were you thinking letting Finn---"

"I'm not going into this again, he wanted to do it and who am I to say no?" Tommy replies with a light laugh. "That would make both of us a hypocrite."

"We were more mature at the time..."

"Oh really? That's what you call maturity?" Tommy questions amused, as we swiftly move through the crowd as the song begins to end.

"We may have broken a few things but there's no harm done." I state, letting Tommy spin me one last time before a slower song comes on and we match our dancing to the rhythm.

"Sure, no harm done." He mocks me with a laugh, which makes me laugh.

Thomas sways us through the bunches of people as we lapse into a comfortable silence, settling into our own worlds.

"I think I'm falling in love with you, Cora." Tommy tells me, continuing to sway us as he looks deep into my eyes and it feels like he's looking into my soul.

All I can do is smile.

"Yeah? You think?" I chuckle and he matches my smile.

"Mm." He hums, with a nod.

"That's alright, because I think I'm falling in love with you, too." I reply, causing him to break out into the biggest smile.

We pause our moving, standing still amongst all the other couples dancing. Tommy cups my face with his hands and goes to kiss me. "What about your family?" I question, when were mere inches away.

He smiles. "Fuck 'em, they all practically know anyway."

I reply by closing the gap between us, kissing my best friend in the middle of the dance floor as couples dance around us whilst we're stood still, in the midst of his brother's wedding. Tommy's thumb brushes my cheekbone gently as we stand in our own bubble, oblivious to what's going on around us, smiling into our kiss.

"I love you, Cora Witton." Tommy utters, pressing his forehead against mine with a smile.

"I love you, Tommy Shelby." I utter back, kissing him again which makes my toes curl.

"What do you say we finish this dance, get a little drunk, and then go home?" Tommy suggests, tucking some hair behind my ear. "If you can handle Linda's stare that long that is because from where I'm looking, she doesn't look that happy that we stole the spotlight from her on her wedding day." Tommy chuckles, looking over my shoulder at his family.

I look over at them too, seeing how they look shocked yet look like they expected it, and I meet Linda's glare, happy at how I've pissed her off.

"You're such an attention whore." I joke, looking back at Tommy.

"You know it." He smirks and begins to sway us again.

It feels like everything I've ever worked for in my life has led up to this moment. This is what I get after years of struggling, and fuck is it worth it.

"I want this song to play at our wedding."

"Oh, we're getting married now are we?" I chuckle fondly, liking the sound of that.

"If all goes to plan, yeah."

[buckyismybicycle]

tangle of lives, lies and limbs [Bucky x Sam x Steve]

title: tangle of lives, lies and limbs -> AO3 Link pairing: AllCaps- Bucky Barnes x Sam Wilson x Steve Rogers rating: ❗explicit, no minors pls tags: light angst, hurt/comfort, threesome, roommates to lovers, bottom Steve, top Bucky, top Sam, oral/anal sex, no refractory period, threesome summary: the simplest solution, really, is for everyone to be Captain America author's notes: I was inspired by some GORGEOUS art, and highly recommend everyone check out:

@thefuzzyaya - O Captain! My Captain! (srsly died at the man bun 😍) @shamserg - Captain America Corps

for @buckybarnesbingo - C1: Captain America/Steve Rogers for @samstevebingo2022: Roommates AU for @winterfalconevents (Bingo): Face-Fucking

“Steve, man, do you even know how to block a punch anymore?” Bucky tuts over Sam’s shoulder while the other man is inspecting the blossoming bruise on Steve’s cheek.

“Of course I do, jerk,” Steve mumbles. He’s still in his suit, sweltering, and it’s uncomfortable. “Can I go now?”

“Go where?” Sam snaps. “To your bedroom? Where I will break your door down and still continue to harass you about your dumb ass taking care of yourself?”

“What he said,” Bucky points at Sam.

“I don’t give the two of you grief when you come back from your missions.”

“That’s ‘cause we know how to block a punch,” Bucky retorts and Sam fistbumps him.

“I need new partners,” Steve decides.

---

The thing is, Captain America is just a symbol. It took way too long for him to realize that as long as a Captain America existed, it didn’t have to be him. Not all the time, anyway.

=== SIX MONTHS EARLIER ===

“This is a terrible idea,” Sam whispers, watching in horror as Bucky slips on the Captain America suit. Luckily for him, he and Steve are more or less the same size, but his hair sticking out from under the cowl makes it very evident it’s not Steve Rogers.

“Look, Steve’s down for the count,” Bucky reasons, tucking in loose strands of hair, making a haphazard mess of it. When said blonde snorts in his sleep, they both look over at the couch, where he’d collapsed a few moments before, frozen until his body has settled again. “He’s running himself ragged out there and the fuckin’ drop is gonna happen in an hour. You wanna wake him up?”

Sam looks at the man, snoring away. Steve only snores that loudly if he’s exhausted. Sam does not want to agree with Bucky, but he kinda does.

“You’re right, Steve should stop killing himself out there.”

“Thank -”

“That’s no excuse for you to do it too, idiot.”

“I’m not out there every day and every night,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Look, if Steve can do it, so can I, alright? In a less inspiring way that involves fewer speeches and more stealth.”

“Just - promise you’ll be careful,” Sam sighs softly before helping Bucky with his stupidly luscious hair. Bucky’s already made up his mind, and Sam would have more luck moving mountains than this man. Lord knows what he did in his past life to be stuck with the two most stubborn people on the entire planet.

“I will,” Bucky agrees before slipping out of their loft. Using the fireplace, because of course. Sam rolls his eyes. Steve doesn’t stir, and Sam hopes he stays that way, so he doesn’t have to explain why his best friend and his suit are missing.

Sam watches Steve’s face, relaxed for the first time in what seems like forever, the lines in his beautiful face softened out.

Sam just sighs to himself in the quiet room, and prays Bucky comes home safe.

=== FIVE MONTHS EARLIER ===

“Jesus Christ, Buck,” Sam hisses as Bucky rolls in through the window. He’s clutching his right arm at an awkward angle, hence the rolling.

“Yeah, yeah, just peek outside and see if I was followed.” Sam dutifully does so and gives Bucky the sign that the coast is clear.

“Dislocated?” He nods at Bucky’s shoulder, where the man is still trying to shift it into place.

“Think so, wouldja lend me a hand?”

And so, this is apparently Sam’s life now, patching up both of his best friends with one none the wiser. He grimaces as Bucky hisses as the bone pops back into place and he does a few test rolls.

“Assholes,” Bucky mutters. “Steve still out?”

“Like a lamp,” Sam confirms.

“Good. I’m gonna wash this thing, Lord knows he doesn’t.”

Sam would be lying if he said that the suit wasn’t made for Bucky just as much as it was made for Steve.

Bucky may or may not catch him staring.

=== FOUR MONTHS EARLIER ===

“Steve? Steve!” Bucky wakes up instantly to Sam’s cry and darts out into the shared common space.

“What happened?”

Sam’s staring down at his phone and then up at Bucky before looking back to his phone. Bucky’s hair is mussed from sleep and had rushed out here so fast he hadn’t put on a shirt or pants but Sam’s not about to get distracted by all that right now.

“Mission went south in Boston, I think - I heard gunshots in the back but Steve - Bucky, where are you going!”

“Boston!” He calls over his shoulder, his heart racing. Steve’s in his uniform which means Bucky falls back on what he knows best. The tactical gear fits him like a glove, familiar in all the best and worst ways, the all-black a chilling, haunting emptiness that he knows to strike fear in people. Good.

“Sam, I hate to ask this of you but -” He cuts himself off when he sees that Sam’s also geared up.

“Let’s go get our idiot,” Sam finishes for him, making for the window to step onto the fire escape. Neither of them are exactly fans of the method, but it’s effective. The first time they’d done this, Sam’s arms had nearly given out from pure exhaustion, before he switched to resting on a building rooftop here and there. They’d tried a few variations - the bridle carry being Bucky’s least favourite - until they’d finally found the best compromise. As long as Bucky kept his position right, Sam could piggyback him, and it left one of Bucky’s hands free to wield a gun, if he chose to (which he almost always did).

With Sam’s phone in hand, he leans into Sam to guide him and Sam - he follows without hesitation. It becomes very obvious where Steve is when they see a burst of colour in the distance.

“Is that warehouse… on fire?” Sam hears Bucky ask, and just grunts in affirmation as he heads towards the glow of yellow and orange in the night. Half the building is rubble by the time they get close enough and Bucky jumps off Sam’s back without a second thought, jarring Sam before he can straighten out.

“No goddamn patience,” he mutters, hearing Bucky’s landing and frantic footsteps. He does a scan of the area, and when there’s no noticeable trace of Steve, he surveys the damage, and gets on the comms to the local police. They’ve been made aware, of course, but they ask if he’ll hang around for a bit, just so the people feel safe.

“Steve!” Sam hears in the distance. His heart pounds as he thinks about the worst case scenario.

“You fucking idiot!” Bucky’s yelling at Steve becomes louder. Sam breathes again, because Bucky may sound angry as shit, but the undertone of thank god, you’re alive is very much present. He knows this tone well, considering Bucky uses it every other day. Steve also knows this tone well, because he sheepishly cowers under Bucky’s furious gaze before letting himself be hugged. If he didn’t have the serum, Sam’s sure he would hear all of Steve’s ribs crack.

He gives a Steve much gentler hug after Bucky calls him a moron one last time.

“You should fly Steve home,” Bucky tells Sam.

“Uh, and what are you gonna do?”

“Run.”

“Buck, do not be ridiculous.”

“I’m fast -”

“I know that, but it’s still over 200 miles, let’s just catch a train or something.”

“Captain America is not going to take a train. Just - get him home, Sam. Patch him up. Please.”

“Um, I’m feeling -”

“SHUT UP!” They both interrupt Steve, and turn to point angry, accusatory fingers. He promptly closes his mouth.

The headlines the next day read CAPTAIN AMERICA BLOWS UP WAREHOUSE IN DRUG RAID.

“What! There weren’t any drugs involved!” Steve cries indignantly. Bucky throws an apple at him from across the table, hard enough that it rips the stupid paper in half. Sam winces in sympathy as he watches the apple hit Steve right in the chest, where the footprint-shaped bruise had just begun fading.

=== FOUR MONTHS EARLIER ===

“Sam -”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“It involves you in Steve’s suit, so the answer is no.”

“It’s HYDRA,” Bucky swallows thickly. “They’re sending him in thinking it’s just a dumb second grade lab, they - he doesn’t have any backup.”

“And neither will you, or did you forget that part?” Sam stares at him incredulously. Bucky stays quiet but Sam’s eyes widen when he sees what he’s about to do. “Bucky, no.”

“Yes,” he responds, eyes steely, as he deletes the email from Steve’s inbox. Bucky’s face shifts into something darker, and Sam has a choice to make. He could tell Steve, which could potentially blow up not just his relationship with Bucky, but also Steve’s. Bucky doesn’t take betrayal too lightly these days and if Steve so much as suggests that Bucky sit this one out… Well.

He doesn’t have that long to think about it because Bucky sets off that very night, while Steve is making a surprise visit to the children’s hospital downtown. Sam only knows because he had purposely been listening for Bucky’s door to open and close. He takes a deep breath and straps his wings firmly on his back.

---

Bucky doesn’t need a whole lot of help, if Sam’s being honest. Not with taking out the base. He was right, of course, it wasn’t just some lab and there was definitely something in the base worth protecting. What Sam does need to be there for, is to bring Bucky back to himself. He doesn’t actually take Steve’s suit this time. The chilling air of confidence in each stride of his black and bloodied combat boots is all too familiar to Sam, the memories causing him to grimace. He knows why Bucky chose to put the muzzle on himself, why Bucky chose to bring the guns that he did.

If it weren’t for the liveliness in his eyes, as feral and rage-filled as it was, Sam could very easily have mistaken him for the Soldier.

In Bucky’s hand is a crunch of metal and wires, like a black box.

“What is that?” Sam asks cautiously as Bucky’s hand still trembles.

“Hydra’s been... Developing something that was close enough to the chair, but a smaller, portable option. They could wipe whoever they wanted at any given time, they just had to test it first.”

The thought of Steve’s mind being scrambled, the thought of HYDRA continuing to take things from him, had made Bucky snap - literally. He crumples every bit of technology in the lab he can lay his hands on, breaks at least one limb of each and every single hostile in his way. It’s a miracle Bucky hadn’t accidentally (or purposely, really), killed someone. The base is empty, broken, and filled with desperate pleas of life and mercy.

Sam had simply followed the trail of broken bodies Bucky left behind, gathering whatever he can salvage as evidence, and finally meets Bucky at the other end of the bunker. He’d cleared the whole thing in his battle frenzy without even realizing it, and Sam watches as Bucky blinks, breathing deeply before looking skyward. There’s something devastating in the way Bucky doesn't speak, and doesn’t take the mask off.

“Let’s get you home,” Sam soothes, his arm around Bucky’s tense shoulders. It’s hard to tell in the darkness and the curtain of wavy chestnut hair, but he’s pretty sure Bucky’s crying. He guides Bucky away from the carnage, where they can breathe in air that doesn’t smell of copper and death. Sam’s sent a beacon out already. Someone from SHIELD will clean it up, and they’ll know it wasn’t Steve here.

“It’s okay, I got you,” he whispers. “You with me, Buck? C’mon.” The breathing is ragged in his ear, and the shuttering - god, it’s killing Sam.

“Hey, look at me,” Sam tries again. “We’ll keep crushing these cockroaches, time and time again. No matter how hard they try to come back. HYDRA will never hurt you again, you hear me?” Bucky, still unable to form words, just shakes his head - Sam doesn’t know at which part.

“Words, Buck,” Sam encourages. “I need you to tell me you’re here with me. What do you need, sweetheart?”

A half-sob comes out of Bucky’s mouth.

“Just take me home. Please.” Sam is more than happy to do so.

---

Steve’s still not home. Sam’s surprised, and isn’t sure if he should be impressed with how long Steve stays at the hospital or how quickly Bucky can clear an entire bunker by himself. Both, perhaps.

Bucky doesn’t speak the entire way home, his arms wound around Sam’s neck. When they enter their loft, he wordlessly heads straight for his bedroom, and Sam groans inwardly about the bloody footprints he leaves behind.

First thing’s first: he draws a bath for Bucky, warm but not hot, and goes to Bucky’s room to find the brunette sitting on the edge of his bed, head cradled in his hands. Sam kneels in front of him, gently prying Bucky’s arms down. There’s ash and grime on his face, save for the streaks of clean skin where the tears had run down.

“M’gonna take this off now, okay?” Sam’s voice is soft, it always is for Bucky. Rewarded, Bucky stays still when Sam unbuckles the mask, revealing flushed cheeks and a hard scowl.

“Let’s get you in the bath.” It’s not an order or a command, Bucky hates that shit and he knows that Sam knows it. His beautiful, loving Sam. Sam, who is waiting with his open hands for Bucky to make the decision.

He reeks of blood, can still hear the sounds of their screams and… He can still remember feeling glad about it. It makes him feel sick.

He gives a noncommittal hum, which Sam takes that to mean, and he unceremoniously strips his clothes, all the way to his briefs, and throws the entire pile into his bin. The tub’s filled a good portion, and he catches his face in the mirror - the bottom half without a mark while the top half was still grey and soot-covered.

He steps out of his briefs, and steps into the water. He sometimes forgets that it’s not meant to be icy and biting. The warmth spreads as he promptly climbs in and sits down. He’s exhausted enough that he slumps against the tub, head resting back as his muscles appreciate the temperature of the bath.

Meanwhile, Sam cleans any trace that they were involved in anything. He’s rummaging through the fridge for a snack for himself, and something for Bucky, when he hears his name being called out softly.

It’s the first word he’s said in hours. Sam surveys the room, deems it clean enough and goes back to the bathroom. The door’s still open a crack, there’s no real steam in the room anymore but Bucky sits there with a half-gone stare at the water around his knees. The ends of his tresses are damp from where they had dipped into the neck-high water.

“Sorry.” Bucky’s voice is small and apologetic

“It’s alright, Buck,” Sam concedes. They could always talk about it tomorrow, when Bucky could look present and not like he was galaxies away.

“It’s not, but thanks,” Bucky mumbles, thunking his head down on the ledge of the tub.

Sam brushes a few strands back, massaging Bucky’s scalp. He sits like that with Bucky’s half-wet hair and tub of lukewarm water until Bucky looks up at him. This time, the dark clouds in his eyes have cleared, much to Sam’s relief.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Bucky lets his eyes close, a sign of trust and comfort, and lays his head on Sam’s lap. Sam doesn’t even complain that his pants are getting wet. When his starts to ache and the water is cooled, Bucky’s ready to actually shower off and Sam goes to finish his half-assed sandwich. He considers that Bucky must be starving, but in his near-catatonic state, would need something effortless. The combination of things he gathers could be considered questionable, but hey, he’s going for practicality.

Bucky comes out in nothing but a towel slung low on his hips.

“Hungry?” Sam already knows the answer, offering his plate, and watches as Bucky looks between Sam and the door leading to his bedroom. “Can take it to go,” he suggests with a small shrug.

“Thanks,” Bucky mutters, taking the plate and shuffling to his room. He pauses and turns to look at Sam. “You busy?”

The underlying question is clear.

“For you? Never,” Sam jokes easily, even though it’s not really a joke at all. “Be there in a sec.” He gives Bucky a few minutes to put on some clothes before padding into the room. Bucky’s already lounging on the bed on top of the comforter. The TV is playing something that Bucky’s clearly not paying attention to considering his eyes are closed.

“Hey, c’mon, eat up,” Sam encourages as he slips onto the bed beside him. Bucky groans but dutifully pops a grape into his mouth. They’ve been around each other long enough that the silence doesn’t weigh as heavily as it used to, but Sam is intuitive, and he cares for Bucky. A lot.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I wanted to kill them, Sam.” Bucky’s confession comes out steady but quietly. “I can’t even blame it on the Winter Soldier, it was all me.”

“Being back at Hydra couldn’t have been easy, I’m sure it brought up a lot of memories for you.”

Bucky shakes his head sadly. “Wasn’t memories. When I saw what they made… I just thought, what if they hadn’t been stopped? Who would they have gone after?”

“We would never let them even get near you, Buck, you know that -”

“I know,” Bucky interrupts. “I wasn’t actually all that worried about me - I couldn’t help but think: what if they’d gone after Steve? Or you? Hydra just keeps taking and taking, and I don’t know much more I can lose.”

Sam gently moves the plate off the bed to the nightstand before pulling Bucky in closer. “They’re not gonna take anything else away from you. Never again.”

Bucky just stays in Sam’s embrace, muscles slowly relaxing as Sam rubs comforting circles in between his stiff shoulders.

“Hey, Sammy?” His words are kind of slurred against Sam’s collarbone.

“Hmm?”

“Stay?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

And that’s how Steve finds them when he gets home, tangled in each other’s arms on top the blanket.

=== THREE MONTHS EARLIER ===

Surprisingly, it takes people a while to catch on - including Steve.

“Have you lost your mind!?”

“Nope, actually just got it back,” Bucky replies deadpanned. Both Steve and Sam turn to point at him furiously.

“Not funny!” They shout in unison. Bucky thinks it’s kinda funny, so he shrugs.

“Buck, what were you thinking-”

“He wasn’t,” Sam interjects (un)helpfully. Bucky sees he’s on his own on this one.

“I was thinkin’ that you were killin’ yourself and I was tired of watching it happen. What’s the big deal with me helping you every once in a while?”

“You did it behind my back, that’s what the big deal is! And HYDRA? Bucky, of all things! HYDRA?! How long has this been going on for?”

Bucky shrugs and Sam sighs before he tells Steve. “Three months.”

“Three - three months?” Steve’s voice goes uncharacteristically high. He looks at Bucky in disbelief before he turns to Sam. “And you knew?”

“Let the record show that I was heavily opposed to the idea at first,” Sam defends himself, hands in the air. “But Bucky did have a point.”

“He did try to stop me,” Bucky backs Sam up. “And I didn’t give a shit.”

“That he did not.”

“Guys,” Steve breathes deeply. “I appreciate the thought however, I am -”

“Not fine,” Sam and Bucky finish for him.

“I’m fine,” Steve protests, predictably.

“So what, you can be the hero, but I can’t?” Bucky jabs. “What’s the difference Steve? If I’ve been doing this for the past three months and you weren’t any wiser, then why is a big deal now? Nothing’s changed.”

“You don’t understand,” Steve begins to say. “Captain America is a target. A big one. People are always going to be after me.”

“Definitely never had anyone try to kill me before,” Bucky says flatly, blinking at Steve like he was an idiot.

“You know what I mean. And stop trying to make it about you.”

Sam can spot the exact moment that Bucky’s gasket blows and he closes his eyes, knowing what’s about to come.

“About me?” Bucky’s eyes widen in disbelief. “ABOUT ME? This isn’t about me and never has been! You think I want to be a superhero in the spotlight? That sound right to you? I’m starting to think maybe you just don’t want anyone putting the suit on. ‘Cause being Captain America is so important to you, that it can only be you and has to always be you.”

“Being Captain America is what helps me give people hope! It’s because I stand for what’s right, because I stand up for the little guys. So yeah, Buck, it’s important to me.”

“And you’re important to us,” Bucky counters. “But doesn’t seem like that matters, does it?” He turns to storm off into his own bedroom, figuring it’d be better to quarantine himself than, say, smash the kitchen counter into pieces with his fist. But he can’t let it go, he can’t forget the words that Steve had used to slice right through him.

“And what the fuck’s that supposed to mean, anyway? You saying I don’t fight for what’s right? That I don’t stand up for the little guys? Are you fucking serious right now?” Bucky makes it to his room without hearing a peep from the two of them. It makes him feel marginally better when he slams the door and feels the floor shake from the impact.

Steve and Sam awkwardly stand in the kitchen until Bucky’s music starts blaring from inside his room. It’s his way of saying ‘go ahead assholes, talk all you want’ since the doors don’t do anything to block his enhanced hearing.

“Steve -”

“Don’t say it,” the other man mumbles. He runs a hand through his hair, tries to dial back his frustration about the whole situation and flops on the couch.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve asks him, looking defeated. It’s not what Sam signed up for, but he tries his best to explain their point of view.

“Because then you would’ve told him to stop, and we probably would’ve had this confrontation three months ago and still end up here in the same position. You want Bucky to stop, he wants you to stop. I don’t really see how either of you is going to come out of this without making a compromise.”

“I just… don’t want him to carry the burden too. Bucky’s done fighting, he said it himself. And now he’s back in because - because what? I couldn’t handle it? That’s bullshit, Sam. It was my decision to put on the suit, and my decision to take up this mantle. I won’t have him trying to protect me or clean up after me like when we were kids.”

“Why didn’t you say that to him?” Sam asks gently.

“Because then he would say, and I quote, ‘I’m not protecting you or cleaning up after you, I’m jus’ trying to help a little’ and I don’t wanna hear it again.”

“First off, great Bucky impression. Nailed it. Secondly, just give yourselves time to cool it, and maybe try to work it out. But you should hear him out. And I think there was a lot he didn’t say too, but maybe you need to hear it.”

“You’re always so good with him, ever since…”

“It’s easier for us, Steve,” Sam reminds him gently. “I don’t have the history you do with him, and he probably feels the same way about us sometimes.”

Steve gives a dry laugh before saying, “you know we used to fight all the time. Bickering, that’s all. He’d get mad that I didn’t finish my food or take my medicine like I was supposed to, I’d get mad at him for getting into scuffles and comin’ home with bloody knuckles. It took a while, but eventually I realized it was just over us worrying about each other.”

“Sounds like nothing’s really changed,” Sam bumps his shoulder against Steve’s.

“Yeah, guess not,” Steve admits quietly. He exhales loudly, his shoulders dropping some of their tension. “Sometimes I think you were sent to me to keep me from falling apart.”

He kisses Sam soft and slow, grateful for the feeling of warmth and comfort. “Come lay with me for a bit?”

“You’ll talk to him tomorrow?” Sam asks when they part.

“Yeah, I will. I’ll make it right.”

“Good,” Sam responds, capturing Steve’s lips again. He lets Steve relax under his touch before they get up to go to Steve’s room.

When Sam finally settles in for bed, Bucky must hear something on the other side of the wall.

The music does dial down a bit, though Bucky still has it playing to try and drown out his own thoughts.

---

Being Captain America is what helps me give people hope! It’s because I stand for what’s right, because I stand up for the little guys.

He can’t deny it, it hurt for Steve to say that. Saying it implied that Steve didn’t think he could do it - hold up Captain America’s ideals. That he just wasn’t Captain America material. Bucky thought about the first time he’d seen Steve as Captain America - in Azzano.

I thought you were smaller. He’d been shocked at Steve’s transformation. It hadn’t sat well with him at the time because he knew it hadn’t been natural, whatever it is that they did to him. Steve was perfect before, and Bucky didn’t understand why Steve would ever need to be - to look - different. But Steve had always wanted to fight the good fight. The countless failed attempts to join the war probably only fueled Steve further until one day he was given his miracle solution. After that, Bucky had done his best to be happy for his friend. Even with his doubts of this serum, seeing Steve be confident in himself in this new light - that was something he’d never seen. So he’d kept his mouth shut.

He’d always supported Steve, never wavered on that, not even for a moment… when he was in control. Hell, even some part of the Winter Soldier caught onto that fact.

Stop making it about you. Being Captain America is what helps me give people hope.

Bucky tries to close his eyes and go to sleep - he’ll talk with Steve tomorrow.

---

When Sam wakes the next morning, Bucky’s music still plays softly from his room. He wonders briefly if Bucky had even slept, given the soldier’s terrible track record. It doesn’t help that Bucky has a tendency to overthink.

Sam: Are you awake in there?

The message stays on ‘Delivered’ but not read, so Sam lets him be. He had been wondering whether or not the other two had spoken last night after everything but from the way Steve’s shoulders are bunched as he slaps around at his cereal, Sam guesses no.

“Morning,” he says tentatively.

“Hey,” Steve replies, head still hung low.

“Sleep okay?” He asks, even though the exhaustion is written clearly on his face.

“Not really,” the other man admits. “I just - I wanted to say that I’m sorry. I know that you don’t like getting in the middle.”

They can’t do anything except try to get on with their day, so when Steve’s head snaps up to look in the direction of Bucky’s door some time later, Sam discreetly slides off the barstool with his oatmeal.

And because he’s a nosy fucker, he leaves his door open a crack to make sure there would be a peaceful resolution. He catches snippets of their conversation, and from the low murmuring and hushed whispers, it was safe to say that there would be no bloodshed or broken friendships. Only when he hears the distinct sound of a moan and a breathy begging to be taken to bed does he close his door.

=== TWO MONTHS EARLIER ===

“Can you believe Steve’s actually locked his suit up,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Like I wanna do his stupid dirtywork.”

“Maybe it’s better this way, Buck,” Sam shrugs beside him, scrolling through Netflix. “You guys only just talked this out, why do you wanna get back to it so bad?” Bucky’s silently picking at a thread in one of their cushions.

“Iunno, Sam, I liked the way you were lookin’ at me when I had the suit on though,” Bucky teases with a wicked grin.

“Maybe we can convince Shield to make you your own suit,” Sam jokes. “And they just cut off right here.” He traces his finger across the top of one of Bucky’s thighs.

“Funny,” Bucky deadpands before moving to lay on top of Sam.

“Might distract the bad guys though?”

“What if it distracts you instead?” Bucky nips up the side of Sam’s neck.

“I never said it wouldn’t,” he replies, sighing happily when Bucky picks him up to take him to bed.

=== ONE MONTH EARLIER ===

“Let me get this straight,” Fury looks between the three of them. “You… You all want to be Captain America?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve answers proudly.

Fury looks between Sam and Bucky standing next to him.

“With all due respect, Shield is running Steve ragged. He won’t say no, and we know the work is important, so unless there’s another solution, we’ve agreed to step in to assist where we can,” Sam confirms.

Bucky stays silent as Fury takes their proposal in mind.

“And how, exactly, do we keep that contained? First it’s three Captain Americas, then why not more?”

“Tell them you’ve filled your quota,” Bucky snarks and Sam looks down to his shoes to hide his grin.

“Sir, I think it’s a smart move. I…” Steve squirms uncomfortably as the other two stare at him. “I haven’t always been the best at asking for help. But the Avengers are busy and we’re rebuilding. I could use their help, and I respect their decision to remain private. I can stay the face of Captain America and they’ll…”

“Provide support when needed,” Sam fills in, the same time Bucky says “help from the shadows”.

Fury looks like he’s a second from having an aneurysm, but he’s smart enough to pick his battles.

“I’ll think about it.”

Steve decides that he’s busy, while Fury thinks about it. Two weeks later, two brand new suits are delivered, one with darker sleeves and more blue, the other with more white on the chest and shoulders.

To Sam’s disappointment, Bucky’s suit does not cut off mid-thigh.

=== PRESENT DAY ===

They can tell when it gets really bad, when Fury gives up on all protocol and orders all three of them into the field and they’re a perfect blur of dancing on the field and in the air, the shield tossing between all three like it were just a mere game of frisbee.

The unexplainable rush of adrenaline and serotonin carries them through the battle - and right into the bedroom.

“So good, Stevie,” Bucky breathes hotly into Steve’s ear as he works out the zipper on Steve’s suit. “So good, shoulda seen yourself.”

Steve shivers as his suit comes undone, and Sam’s hands reach around him from behind to peel the suit down the rest of the way.

“Mmmm, he’s right. Always such a hero,” Sam plants kisses down his neck while Steve leans his head back to give Sam more room.

“Heroes deserve to be rewarded,” Bucky continues. Steve is already starting to lose his words as Sam’s slide down to his ass, and Bucky’s pulling his nipples between sharp teeth.

His hands remember their job as they unbuckle the harness across Bucky’s chest. He moans at the loss of Bucky’s hands on him, when they reach behind Steve to undo Sam’s belt.

Steve loves the rush of tangled limbs and tongues sliding across sweat-slicked skin like this. He loves when Sam kisses all the way down the knobs of his spine and the way Bucky licks into his mouth.

When he comes home, he is free. He’s free to close his eyes and melt into their arms, where the outside world doesn’t exist.

“Mmf,” he groans as Bucky sucks on his tongue before finally taking Steve out of his briefs, slipping the last article of clothing off. Steve clambers at the neckline of Bucky’s suit, but loses coordination when Bucky lifts him up by the back of his thighs.

He can hear Sam’s soft muttering about super soldiers before Bucky sits on the bed, lapful of a very needy Steve. Sam re-enters the fray behind Steve, letting his body push Steve further onto Bucky, who’s only half out of his suit. Sam evidently stripped himself because every part of them touching is warm with Sam’s touch.

Steve’s hands trail down Bucky’s abs as he hungrily kisses Bucky, who’s eagerly reciprocating. Sam leans over, plastering Steve to Bucky, as he reaches in the nightstand drawer for lube.

“Mm, you gonna get him ready for us?” Bucky directs his question over Steve’s shoulder.

“Of course,” Sam snorts before his hands reach under Steve to tug at the remainder of Bucky’s clothes. “First, let’s get you out of these”

“Ya damn angel,” Bucky says happily, lifting his hips for Sam, and grinding against Steve’s cock in the process. “Stevie, you ready?”

“Unnnnnnng,” is the reply Steve gives when Bucky’s bare cock brushes against his.

“I think that’s a yes,” Sam teases, popping the lid of the lube open. “I’m gonna get you nice and ready for our cocks.”

Bucky is content to lean back against the headboard as Sam straightens Steve out so they’re back-to-chest, and Bucky rubs encouraging circles into Steve’s hips as Sam opens him up. Bucky loves the way Steve flushes so perfectly, pink all the way past his neck to the top of his chest, the thick coarse hair across his pecs and tapering towards his thinner waist.

Steve’s hole is always eager for the first finger, and it takes almost no effort. Sam knows how impatient Steve is, and he also knows by now the pace he needs to keep despite Steve’s insistence to “keep going”. He slips the second finger in with relative ease, enjoying Steve’s rocking motions to fuck himself on Sam’s fingers. As a reward, he bites marks all along Steve’s shoulder and neck, each one drawing a gasp from the blonde.

Bucky spits in his hand and takes both their cocks so that Steve’s rocking motions rub against his hardening length. Sam moves up to three fingers, drawing a moan from Steve and Bucky licks his lips in anticipation.

“Come on, Sammy, before I die of old age please,” Bucky begs.

He picks up the pace as Sam continues to scissor his fingers inside Steve. Sam watches in fascination as Steve’s hole greedily sucks in the fourth finger too, the resistance growing stronger now. This time, Sam has to take his fingers out to work the lube in before returning his whole hand to Steve.

“Fuck, what a sight,” Sam groans happily. Taking both his hands now, he hooks two fingers around Steve’s rim and pulls to see the deep red fluttering cavern, hungry for cock.

“Fuck him good, Sammy,” Bucky orders. “I wanna see you fuck him so hard his tits bounce.”

Steve whines, and Sam lines himself with Steve’s entrance, pushing in slowly.

“You feel like a dream, baby,” Sam coos, hands on Steve’s hips to steady the super soldier as he rocks in and out slowly, pulling all sorts of noises from Steve.

“You both look like a damn dream too,” Bucky adds, eyes dilated and devouring the sight of them.

“M - More, p - please” Steve pants between the sharp thrust of Sam’s cock pushing the air out of his lungs.

“Hang on,” Sam chides, sliding out of Steve and shuffling them further up Bucky’s body. Sam reaches for Bucky’s cock and jerks as best he can at his angle.

“Oh, fuck, angel,” Bucky moans, fingers digging into Steve’s thighs bracketing his torso. Sam is a man on a mission as he expertly runs his thumb along Bucky’s slit, causing him to jerk.

“Come on, gimme one right now, it’ll drive Steve mad,” Sam teases and Bucky closes his eyes, losing himself in the sensation of Sam’s slick, quick hand. Steve is doing his best to get the attention back on himself, lifting his ass and rubbing back on Sam’s hand and Bucky’s cock like a cat in heat.

“Yeah, yeah, keep going, Sammy,” Bucky breathes. “Faster.”

Sam obeys immediately, reveling in how needy both soldiers are. He loves the difference in their hunger, where Steve wants any touch, anywhere, soft at first and Bucky -

Bucky wants to come hard enough the first time that he’s practically boneless so he doesn’t take out his feral need to fuck out on them, and while Steve might be able to handle it, Sam very much cannot. So, he jerks Bucky to the point where his forearm almost aches and is rewarded with Bucky’s hips snapping up, almost bucking Steve off of him. A spurt of jizz hits Steve’s balls before splattering across Sam’s hand and Bucky’s legs tremble as Sam keeps working his oversensitive cock.

“Come on, that ain’t it, I know that ain’t it,” Sam urges, squeezing and grinning as Bucky just continues to come all over Sam’s hand. “Fuck, that’s never gonna stop being hot.”

“Sam,” Steve begs hoarsely, ass in the air.

“Yeah, baby, I got you,” Sam consoles, taking himself in hand and pushing himself back into Steve, Bucky’s spunk smeared across both of them.

“There we go, takin’ me so good, hm?” Sam goes as deep as he can, Steve’s ass flushed against his pelvis. Instead of a response, Steve groans and pants against Bucky’s mouth between their hurried kisses, all teeth and tongue. Bucky’s got a harsh grip on Steve’s short blonde strands on one hand, the other clasped around Steve’s wrists that are behind his back.

“Fuck, yes,” Sam exhales, his own hand coming to join Bucky’s, pinning Steve to the brunette underneath. Incredibly turned on by the heated make out session beneath him, Sam skips the build up and starts to fuck Steve in earnest. He wants to come to the sound of Steve’s moans Bucky keeps drawing out and the raspy whispers of “so good for us Stevie, so good” that fall from Bucky’s lips.

“M’close,” Sam breathes, heart racing. Bucky gets that wicked look in his eyes and makes eye contact with Sam before turning to Steve.

“Come on, Sam, it’s my turn,” he insisted with a smirk. “Can’t you find somewhere else to stick your dick in.” For added emphasis, he smacks Steve’s ass, hard enough it jiggles around Sam’s dick.

Sam likes the way Bucky thinks, so he brings himself right to the edge before pulling up abruptly, grasping the base of his cock in hopes of keeping himself contained.

Steve, despite his enhanced stamina, relies mostly on Bucky to get rolled over on his back. Hastily, Bucky pulls Sam in for a bruising kiss before yanking Steve by the ankles in the middle of the bed how he wants. Sam’s not surprised that Bucky’s still hard despite being the first to get off and looks down to see Steve’s baby blue eyes swallowed up by the black blow-out pupils. Steve’s lips are red and swollen from Bucky. Sam knows exactly what Bucky was setting them up for and god, does he want.

Bucky settles in between Steve’s legs, hauling those thick thighs upward. He revels in the firm muscle he gets to dig his fingers into, especially when he pushes into Steve like he’s been dying to do since they came home. Steve groans so loudly, the bed just about vibrates, and it drives Bucky all the way home. Sam watches a wince flash across Steve’s face before it’s back to his lax, blissful state.

Sam swings his leg over Steve’s head to straddle the blonde’s face and watches as Steve eagerly opens his mouth, allowing Sam to slot his cock in perfectly inside. He pins Steve’s arms beneath his shins, and gasps as the wet heat envelops him down to the hilt. At the same time, he hears Bucky’s grunting and feels the vibrations from Steve’s groans shoot all the way up to the base of his dick.

“Go on then,” Sam taps Steve’s cheek, and watches in awe as Steve starts to suck his cock like it was all he was made to do. In his fervor, Steve chokes and pulls back, but not before swirling his tongue around Sam’s shaft. Sam is content to let Steve try to bob his head along, giving the smallest thrusts just to keep him right on the edge. When he comes close to coming, he grabs Steve’s face in his hands to slow the movements, keeping his cock in the delicious heat of Steve’s mouth.

Steve takes short breaths through his nose, his hair a messy halo around his wide-eyed face, red from exerting himself.

“You think he was a good enough boy to deserve to come?” Bucky asks from behind Sam, enjoying the view in front of him.

“I think he’s been very good,” Sam decides.

“Lucky you,” Bucky says to Steve this time, and while Sam can’t see it, he can hear the way Bucky jerks Steve off, furiously and slicked with Steve’s own precome. Steve’s been so pent up that his jaw clicks with an effort to keep from biting down on Sam. Riled up, again, Sam begins to bear down on Steve’s mouth, driving his cock in as far as it’ll go. Then, Sam feels a hot splash on his back like a tramp stamp.

Steve whimpers, the sound muffled by Sam’s throbbing cock, as Bucky returns to pounding into him mercilessly. The force of Bucky’s pistoning is enough to lure Sam closer and closer, but he just wants to bask in this feeling, even if his legs ache and he’s sure that Steve’s lost all feeling in his arms from being pinned. Too bad for him, Bucky has other plans.

“Jeez, what’re you holding out for,” Bucky drawls with a hint of that Brooklyn accent he knows Sam goes nuts for. Sam feels the cool metal push him forward, causing him to steady himself on his hands.

“Stevie, be a good boy and spread Sammy open for me, wouldya?”

Steve’s hands are big and rough, sliding up Sam’s toned thighs to grab a handful of ass in each. It’s Sam’s turn to shudder from the anticipation.

He feels Steve’s cooling spunk run down his back, between his asscheeks where Steve’s pried them apart, immediately followed by Bucky’s hot breath.

“Bu - hng!” Sam nearly swallows his tongue when Bucky’s stubble scrapes against his sensitive skin to lap at his whole, cleaning Steve’s mess at the same time. He jerks, his dick popping out of Steve’s mouth, bouncing heavily.

Sam has no idea what contortionist bullshit Bucky has to pull in order to keep fucking into Steve while assaulting his ass with such a talented tongue, but his willpower is no match. He grips his cock just in time to direct it at Steve’s mouth, open to pant harshly while he gets railed.

“Open up,” Sam demands, brimming with lust. It’s not like Steve has any choice, really, he’s just doing his best to gasp in air greedily.

“Yes, yes,” Steve begs, eyes bright and shining as Sam finally lets himself burst, ropes of come splattering across Steve’s face and into his hair. His muscles burn as he shifts, Steve’s arms coming loose, limply stroking Sam’s sweat-slicked skin.

“C’monbuck,” Steve slurs in his near-delirium. He can’t do much with his arms except clutch the sheets beneath him, his cock heavy with interest again.

Sam would help, really, except he’s wiped and honestly, he’s just enjoying the show. He loves when Bucky’s hair gets wild like this, in a fight or in the bedroom. Bucky’s flush isn’t as obvious as Steve’s with his tanner skin, but it still travels down his toned chest and Sam loves the deeper blue of Bucky’s eyes, dark with mischief and lust, laser-focused on his objective.

His hand is in a loose fist around Steve’s cock while he continues his harsh pace before his voice drops an octave.

“Come again, Stevie. Fucking gimme all of it.” He quickens his pace on Steve’s cock, fist tightening, and Steve's legs shoot up, tired of cramping and tensing from the strain.

Steve’s always been a sucker for following Bucky’s instructions, he comes almost instantly all over Bucky’s hand, a miniature flood runs down Bucky’s knuckles.

If Sam were a super soldier, he’d be ready to come again just watching as Bucky, as feral as he is, licks the back of his hand lewdly and buries himself to the hilt, a long drawn-out groan coming from his throat as he no doubt spills endlessly into Steve.

The three of them are undoubtedly a mess, boneless and happy, sprawled across the bed in a tangle of limbs. Bucky shuffles in behind Steve, making Sam pull the blonde closer to him to make space, and somehow they all fit like it was meant to be.

See also: [overall masterlist]

💖 Tag List: @anonnygon @jackiehollanderr @granpafrisbee @fanatic434 @vivian-barnes @ohtobehappy @goldylions @moonlightreader649 @buckybarnesau

As always, thank you SO much for the support, feedback and recommendations to your friends. Love you! 💖

[sincerelystranger]

Author: LXC thirsting after NMJ while they’re students together. Inspired by the fact that one of the Gusu rules is that you’re only allowed to eat 3 bowls of rice per meal? I just felt like NMJ is a very big boy and he’d probably need a little more than that.

---

Nie Mingjue is tall, and broad, and handsome. He’s strong enough to wield his huge saber in one hand, he eats all three allotted bowls of rice at every meal, and Lan Xichen can’t stop noticing him.

Nie-gongzi is the only non-Lan Sect student this year at Cloud Recesses, and he – he’s perfect. He never dozes off, he always listens intently, and the only thing he seems to have any interest in other than eating, is practicing his saber. Uncle is in love with him and Lan Xichen just can’t stop noticing him.

“Lan-gongzi!” Nie-gongzi calls, stopping Lan Xichen as he’s walking towards the dining hall. Nie-gongzi has his saber in his hand, and strands of hair are sticking to his sweat-damp forehead, and he’s backlit by the setting sun, and he looks… magnificent. Something about it makes Lan Xichen’s palms tingle. “Are you headed to the dining hall?” Nie-gongzi asks, putting his saber away.

“Yes,” Lan Xichen nods, trying not to stare too intently at the bead of sweat that’s making its way down Nie-gongzi’s neck.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Nie-gongzi asks seriously. He’s always serious – always. It scares a lot of the other students, but Lan Xichen can’t help but find it kind of… charming.

“No, I don’t mind at all,” Lan Xichen smiles.

They walk together to the dining hall, Lan Xichen trying valiantly not to be too aware of their closeness – of the heat that Nie-gongzi is radiating. They’re just two students walking to the dining hall, he tells himself. Two normal students. Yep.

“Are you enjoying your studies at Cloud Recesses?” Lan Xichen asks, attempting normal, polite conversation.

“Yes,” Nie-gongzi nods, “Everything is a little more… flowery than I am used to, but my father speaks very highly of your uncle and his teaching abilities, so I’m trying to learn the best I can.”

“I see,” Lan Xichen smiles, “My uncle speaks very highly of you as well. I’m sure your father will receive a good report from him.”  

“Good reports on everything except my calligraphy, I assume,” Nie-gongzi replies, “But I’ve never had a talent for the arts, so I’m sure that will be no surprise to my father.”

Lan Xichen wants to tell him that the way he wields his saber is so beautiful that it takes Lan Xichen’s breath away. Wants to tell him that he’s never seen anything more artistic than the way Nie-gongzi walks – his back straight, his strides long and purposeful. Wants to tell him that his heart stops every time Nie-gongzi walks towards him.

But that sound a bit… much… even in his own head. So instead, he says, “I’ve seen your calligraphy, I’m sure your marks will be adequate.”

Nie-gongzi laughs at that, throwing his head back in mirth.

His neck is thick and corded, his brows stay furrowed even in laughter, and Lan Xichen can’t take his eyes off of him.

“Adequate, you say, Lan-gongzi,” Nie-gongzi chuckles, “I may not have an eye for the arts, but even I know that your calligraphy is perfect. My own chicken scratch must be far from adequate in the eyes of the grandmaster who is used to reading your perfect writing.”

Lan Xichen can feel his ears redden at Nie-gongzi’s words. “You’re too complimentary of my skills, Nie-gongzi,” he says, his face tilted towards the ground.

A heavy hand pats him on his shoulder, shocking him out of his embarrassment. “I’m not one for false modesty or empty praise, Lan-gongzi,” Nie-gongzi says, and there’s something warm in his voice, “but thank you for your words of consolation.” He takes his hand off of Lan Xichen’s shoulder, and his shoulder burns where Nie-gongzi’s hand had been.

Lan Xichen feels a bit chided then – a bit chided and a little bit found out.

They enter the dining hall together and take their seats. Lan Xichen sits next to Nie-gongzi and watches him clean his table… again… and again. Nie-gongzi finishes all three allotted bowls before Lan Xichen can finish his one.

Watching Nie-gongzi eat tickles something in Lan Xichen’s brain. It makes him wonder if even three bowls are enough. Nie-gongzi is… large, and he practices his saber so often. He must be… hungry.

He quickly finishes his food and walks quickly to catch up to Nie-gongzi. “Nie-gongzi,” he says, definitely not out of breath because he definitely did not run.

Nie-gongzi turns towards him, and suddenly Lan Xichen feels embarrassed to even ask.

“Yes, Lan-gongzi?” Nie-gongzi asks after a beat of silence.

“Oh,” Lan Xichen coughs, “I was… just wondering if you found the food in Cloud Recesses acceptable.”

Nie-gongzi’s brows furrow even deeper at Lan Xichen’s question. “I’m not a picky eater,” he says slowly, “but it is a wonder how the Gusu Lan Sect produces so many great cultivators on such little food.”

Aha, Lan Xichen thinks to himself. He knew it! Even three bowls was too little for Nie-gongzi.

“After indoctrination is over, you should come to Qinghe,” Nie-gongzi continues, “I’ll feed you more meat than you’ve ever eaten in your life – none of this rabbit food.”

Lan Xichen feels a zing of pleasure go through him at Nie-gongzi’s invitation. “I hear Qinghe is famous for their boar dishes,” he says quietly, trying not to sound too pleased.

“Yes, our boar is quite good,” Nie-gongzi says, almost whistfully, “I caught the largest boar last season. If you come visit us, I promise you I’ll catch an even larger one.”

There is no pride in his voice, Lan Xichen realizes. Nie-gongzi isn’t bragging, isn’t giving out a false promise. He will catch the largest boar for Lan Xichen – it’s a fact. It hits Lan Xichen like an arrow to the heart. It makes his palms tingle hot and cold. He wants to touch. He feels greedy all of a sudden, desire like he’s never felt pooling in the bottom of his stomach.

“I will look forward to it,” Lan Xichen says with a calm he doesn’t feel. Look at me, he thinks desperately, wanting those serious eyes on him for some reason. Look at me. Look at me.

Nie-gongzi looks down at him and Lan Xichen’s breath stops in his throat.

“Good,” Nie-gongzi says easily, ignorant of the effect he’s having on Lan Xichen. “Now, if you do not have any other questions for me, I will take my leave first. I want to get in a little more practice before bed.”

“Of course,” Lan Xichen breathes out, bowing.

He watches Nie-gongzi leave towards the practice field. Watches the swing of his hair, the broadness of his shoulders, the length of his steps.

He feels unmoored.

He’s never felt like this before.

He stands there stupidly for a little while longer, staring towards where Nie-gongzi disappeared off to. The sun is already set. He should really go back to his room and meditate a little while before washing up and going to bed. Maybe even visit Wangji. Maybe practice his calligraphy a little more so it stays perfect in the eyes of Nie-gongzi.

That’s what he should do…

But before he knows it, he’s in Caiyi buying a dozen meat buns.

He holds them close to his chest as he runs back up to Cloud Recesses. It’s quite difficult, trying to keep an even stride so the buns aren’t damaged and also trying to run fast enough so that he can get back into Cloud Recesses in time.

He catches Nie-gongzi as he’s walking out of the practice field.

“Nie-gongzi!” he calls out – his voice definitely too loud. He’d be in trouble if uncle heard.

Nie-gongzi almost seems startled to see him. “Lan-gongzi,” he bows, “did you forget something?”

Lan Xichen basically throws the parcel of meat buns at Nie-gongzi. “No,” he says, shaking his head. Embarrassment threatens to devour him whole. “For you… Meat buns…” he says intelligently.

Nie-gongzi looks down at the parcel in his hands and opens it. He looks back at Lan Xichen in surprise. “You got these for me?” he asks, his brows rising from their furrow just a tiny bit. He looks so endearing then that Lan Xichen’s heart threatens to burst.

“Yes,” he nods, willing his cheeks not to burn. “I will speak to uncle about allowing you increased portions at meal times – I know you must have been hungry all this while.” He bows then and turns to leave, embarrassment making him unable to meet Nie-gongzi’s eyes.

A heavy hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks.

Lan Xichen turns in surprise. Nie-gongzi takes his hand and drags him away. Lan Xichen is too shocked by Nie-gongzi holding his hand in his that he doesn’t realize where he’s been dragged off to until he’s already sat next to Nie-gongzi in a dark corner next to the equipment shack.

“Here,” Nie-gongzi says, handing Lan Xichen a meat bun. Nie-gongzi takes one out for himself and stuffs half of it in one go. Lan Xichen watches him chew, mesmerized by the way the oil in the bun makes Nie-gongzi’s lips shine, and takes a careful bite of the meat bun in his hand. It’s still warm – thank god – and it’s good. He hopes Nie-gongzi thinks it’s good as well.

“Is it to your liking, Nie-gongzi?” he asks, trying not to stare too blatantly.

“Hmn,” Nie-gongzi nods, grabbing another meat bun from the parcel. “Feels like it’s been forever since I last had some meat. Thank you for this, Lan-gongzi.”

“No need for thanks,” Lan Xichen says, watching how the meat buns disappear in Nie-gongzi’s mouth like magic. Nie-gongzi looks the happiest he’s ever seen him. All that running and embarrassment was worth it to see this face.

Nie-gongzi gives Lan Xichen a wry smile. “Was my hunger obvious?” he asks.

“No, not at all,” Lan Xichen answers, “It’s just… you eat all three bowls of rice at every meal… and well, you’re the largest disciple at Cloud Recesses… I just… assumed.”

Nie-gongzi laughs at that. Throws his head back again, let’s Lan Xichen see that long neck stretch. Mortifyingly, Lan Xichen wants to know what Nie-gongzi’s neck tastes like. Wants to lick a line from his collar bone to his jaw.

“You assumed correct,” Nie-gongzi says, smiling at him. Lan Xichen’s heart is beating faster than it was after the run up to Cloud Recesses. Nie-gongzi reaches out and pats Lan Xichen on the head. “You’re very observant, Lan-gongzi. Very observant and very kind.”

Don’t pat my head, Lan Xichen wants to tell him. Don’t treat me like a little brother. I didn’t do this to be kind.

“When you come to Qinghe, you’ll meet my little brother. He’s observant too, and kind,” Nie-gongzi says, taking out another meat bun. Nie-gongzi will probably finish the other eleven meat buns before Lan Xichen finishes his one.

“How old is your little brother?” Lan Xichen asks. Actually, he doesn’t want to be compared to Nie-gongzi’s little brother. Everyone else always says that Lan Xichen seems so grown up – why is Nie-gongzi treating him like he’s a child?

“He’s 6,” Nie-gongzi answers, polishing off another meat bun.

“My little brother is 7,” Lan Xichen says. This is probably the longest conversation he’s ever had with Nie-gongzi. He finds that he likes the sound of his voice. Likes the way his mouth moves as he speaks. He doesn’t like being compared to a 6-year-old, but he’ll take whatever he can if he can listen to Nie-gongzi speak a little longer. “Your little brother might already be bigger than Wangji, though, if he is like you.”

“No, no,” Nie-gongzi says, shaking his head, “Huisang is very different from me. He’ll probably be smaller than even my father. But I’m sure his calligraphy will be better than mine.” There’s something fond about the way Nie-gongzi speaks about his brother. Lan Xichen can tell that he loves his little brother very much. He can understand that, he thinks, thinking of Wangji.

There was something undeniably cute about little brothers.

Does Nie-gongzi think Lan Xichen is cute, he wonders?

Nie-gongzi finishes the rest of the meat buns and waits for Lan Xichen to finish his. It is torture to try to eat normally with Nie-gongzi’s eyes on him. Suddenly the act of chewing even seems unnatural. Lan Xichen is hyper aware of his every movement. Of his proximity to Nie-gongzi.

“You won’t get in trouble for this, will you?” Nie-gongzi asks worriedly, smashing the empty parcel easily between his hands.

“No,” Lan Xichen lies (how many rules has he broken so far?). “But if it’s alright with you, could I walk you back to your quarters, Nie-gongzi?” He doesn’t want any of the disciples on watch to give Nie-gongzi any trouble. They’ll most likely, steer clear if they see Lan Xichen with him.

Nie-gongzi’s brows furrow as if they find Lan Xichen’s request strange, but he nods, “that’s fine with me.”

They walk together, Lan Xichen trying not to be too aware of the heat that radiates off of Nie-gongzi. He bows his goodbye when they reach Nie-gongzi’s quarters.

Nie-gongzi bows back and pats Lan Xichen on the shoulder as he straightens. “Thank you again for your care, Lan-gongzi,” Nie-gongzi says, gifting Lan Xichen with another small smile.

“It’s my pleasure,” Lan Xichen says honestly – probably too honestly.

Lan Xichen almost skips back to his room. His uncle will be upset with him, he’s sure. He’s missed bedtime by at least half an hour now, but he can’t find it in himself to regret anything. He’d run to Caiyi every night if he could have this secret meeting with Nie-gongzi.

10 years later, when he watches Wangji break the rules for the first time – fighting with other disciples, purchasing liquor, missing bedtime – he’s reminded of himself from 10 years ago. Wanting and confused and unable to help himself. The anger is new, though. Wangji is angry for some reason...

He hopes Wei-gongzi will treat Wangji as kindly as da-gei treated Lan Xichen.

10 years later, Nie-gongzi is now da-ge, but he’s still tall, and broad, and handsome, and Lan Xichen still can’t stop noticing him.

[e-milieeee]

tongue-tied (hearts entwined)—Marichat

Summary: Chat Noir has the annoying habit of sticking his tongue out whenever he's concentrating. Marinette hates that she finds it (and him) ridiculously cute.

Now all she has to do is get through the denial.

Notes: For @emsylcatac! Happy birthday, even if I’m a bit late. I know you’re a Ladynoir stan but... it’s Marichat May+Chat blepping :D 

(The last scene is also inspired by this gorgeous piece of art by @australet789! I couldn’t resist sneaking it in lol) 

Or click here to read on AO3! 

tongue-tied (hearts entwined) 

The first time Marinette notices the habit, she brushes it off.

Chat Noir sits on the balcony with her as he attempts to disentangle a ball of yarn from his body. He had claimed that no, he hadn’t in fact been chasing it and it was most definitely not his fault (meaning that it most likely was).

Now, he is wrapped like a Christmas present in neon yellow string. Marinette refuses to help him, so Chat yanks and pulls and stretches the yarn with utmost focus—all with his tongue poking out of his mouth.

Marinette watches him. He doesn’t even seem to notice her presence and only continues in his concentration. His tongue does not return to its rightful place (out of sight, out of mind)—it continues to stick out in the most obnoxiously adorable way ever and Marinette is almost tempted to tell him to shove it back in so she can stop finding him cute.

Before she can do so, Chat Noir lets out a groan. His tongue swipes over his lips and disappears, to Marinette’s relief (and disappointment). “Cataclysm,” he grumbles under his breath.

With that, he cataclysms the yarn to free himself. It falls to black dust all around him like ashes.

“What?” Chat asks when he sees her staring. “It was efficient. Don’t look at me like that.”

Marinette blinks and shakes her head. Had she found him cute just a moment ago? No, she decides. Obnoxious, maybe, but definitely not cute.

(No way.)

***

It happens a couple more times before Marinette realizes that it’s become a problem.

They’re playing video games in her room, an odd little routine they’ve developed. Chat Noir is surprisingly enthusiastic about beating her in Ultimate Mecha Strike III, which, so far, he has not been able to do.

Marinette makes the mistake of sneaking a glance at him in the middle of a match. He’s holding the controller, staring at the screen with the same intensity he often directs at akumas, and, best—no, worst of all, his tongue is sticking out of his mouth again.

She stares at him for a little too long. A little too long turns to really, really too long, because Marinette is only snapped out of her thoughts when Chat Noir throws his hands up with a triumphant whoop. “I won!” he crows at her, and Marinette turns to look at the screen in dismay.

Sure enough, he had finally bested her. The stats flash across the screen—he’d only won by a margin, but he had won nonetheless, breaking her streak of eighteen wins and zero defeats. Now, a red 1 flashes across the screen under her losses, and Marinette groans.

“No fair,” she complains. “I was distracted for a second. You wouldn’t have won if I weren’t.”

“Distracted?” Chat frowns at her. “Distracted by what?”

Your tongue does not suffice as an answer. Not unless she wants to die of embarrassment and shame. As Marinette fumbles for an acceptable reply, Chat sets down his controller and leans forward. “Admit it,” he grins, infuriously smug. “I won fair and square.”

Marinette pushes his nose away from her. Her face is burning. “I’m going to kick your ass harder next time, and you’re going to regret this.”

His grin widens. “I’d like to see you try.”

(He’s not cute. Just annoying.)

***

Chat comes by to bake when Marinette’s parents are out of town one day. He asks her to teach him how to make macarons, but it’s a far too advanced skill for his limited scope. So instead, they come to an agreement to make Chinese pineapple buns. Now, standing shoulder to shoulder, Marinette teaches him to knead dough.

He’s all wide eyes and concentration, tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth as he follows her movements. Marinette forgets about rolling her own dough in favor of watching him. His ears are sticking up straight on top of his head.

He’s so annoyingly cute.

“Okay!” Chat suddenly announces. “Is this good enough—Marinette? Is there something on my face?”

“Huh?” she looks at him, looks at the dough, looks at her own unfinished one, and promptly feels her face flush. Then, against all better judgement, Marinette blurts, “Why do you always stick your tongue out like that?”

“Like what?” Chat tilts his head slightly then sticks his tongue straight out. “Likthe thith?”

“No!” Marinette practically yelps, then throws her hands up. “Your dough isn’t ready! Stop slacking!”

He purposefully keeps his tongue out the whole time until Marinette is shaking from laughter.

(Maybe he’s cute. Slightly.)

***

“It’s called blepping,” Chat Noir tells her.

“What?” Marinette looks up from her project. “What’s called what?”

“Apparently cats do it too,” he continues. “Stick their tongue out, that is.”

“Well,” Marinette tells him, nearly tripping over her words. “You’re not actually a cat.”

“I don’t appreciate you telling me what I can be and what I can’t be,” Chat sniffs back. “Besides, it’s not a problem for anyone, so I don’t see why I can’t embrace my cat instincts.”

“Cat instincts,” she parrots under her breath. “Yeah, right.”

“Wait. You’re not bothered by it, right, Mari?”

Marinette snorts. “Who, me? Why would I be bothered?”

Chat shrugs. “See? Then it’s whatever.”

It’s not whatever, but Marinette isn’t going to let him know that. A moment later, when he’s focusing again, she catches another glimpse of the pink tip of his tongue.

Why does he have to be so cute?

(She is in deep, deep trouble.)

***

Chat’s terrible at tying his laces.

It would’ve been funny—from the way his eyebrows are scrunched, ears twitching as he fumbles uselessly with the string—if it weren’t for the fact that all of that was accompanied by the tongue poking out over his top lip. Marinette knows she should stop staring, because then she can stop finding him cute. But she keeps staring, like a whole idiot.

To her mortification, Chat looks up at her and grins when she catches her turning away hurriedly. “Is my face that great to stare at?” he asks.

“What?” Marinette shrieks. “No! I’m looking at you tie your laces. Do you seriously not know how to do them up?”

Chat pouts. “It’s hard to do with claws,” he grumbles, wiggling his fingers. Then he sticks his leg out. “You can do it for me.”

Marinette does it, only to have an excuse to duck her face so he can’t see how red her cheeks are.

It’s one of their monthly outings that Chat Noir claims essential to their friendship. He had launched into an indignant tirade when Marinette suggested they could skate at a rink, insisting that they skate in nature.

Now, at the small pond with hints of snow beginning to fall, Marinette has to admit that he made the right call. The wind nips at her nose with the slightest hints of cold, but not too cold that it’s uncomfortably so. Bundled in her own handcrafted scarf, mittens and toque, the worst of the chill is kept out. Even Chat is wearing an overcoat over his suit.

They’re far from the city; in fact, they’re far from Paris itself. The horse Miraculous is tucked safely away in one of Chat’s pockets (which, ironically, he had borrowed from Ladybug). Here, away from the buzzing and business of the city, her thoughts feel clearer than they have been in a long, long time. The snow, fresh and still falling, offers a muted sort of quiet that leaves her room to think and ponder without interruptions.

(Too bad all her thoughts just linger on Chat.)

((Or maybe that’s a good thing.))

Marinette double knots Chat’s laces. “There,” she announces, then adds, “you big baby.”

“It’s the claws’ fault!” he exclaims again. “Race you to the pond?”

Before Marinette can react, Chat grabs the hem of her toque and pulls it down over her eyes. Then, with a boyish laugh, she hears him run off, crunch, crunch, crunching over fresh snow.

Marinette scrambles to her feet, cursing him under her breath as she snatches her mittens and brushes the wool out of her face. Chat is already halfway to the pond, and with one last desperate attempt to win, she chucks her mittens at him.

They miss by a margin, landing in the snow and inciting more laughter.

“You’re a cheat!” she shrieks when Chat reaches the ice. “I hope you know that!”

“Sore loser!” he yells from the ice, already twirling easily on his skates. “You don’t see me complaining every time you win in Ultimate Mecha Strike!”

Marinette retrieves her mittens from the ground and brushes the snow from them. “You complain every single time,” she grinds out, joining him on the ice. The moment her skates touch the pond, Chat’s already darting away from her with easy grace. He glides, spins, then starts skating backwards so the smug grin is fully displayed.

“Come get me!” Chat Noir calls, sticking his tongue out. His hands are tucked behind his back, and he loops each glide, one foot behind the other with ridiculous ease. Show off.

“If you’re going to keep sticking your tongue out, then I dare you to lick that,” Marinette yells at him, pointing at the lamp pole that stands a couple of paces from them. “Bet you won’t.”

Never one to back down from a challenge, he raises an eyebrow. “What do I get if I do?”

“I’ll bake you a batch of whatever you want.”

“Oh, you’re on. Also, if a batch of cookies is usually twelve cookies, do you think I could get a batch of twelve cakes—”

“I’m taking back the bet,” Marinette mock-threatens.

“Okay, okay! I want those mooncakes we had two weeks ago! Three of them.”

She skates up to Chat as he makes his way to the pole. He tromps off the ice, skates sinking into the fresh snow and leaving deep imprints, before sidling up to the pole.

Frost spirals in small flowery patterns over the metal. Marinette grins when she sees Chat hesitate.

“Well?” she asks. “Chickening out now?”

“Never,” he grins. Then, with one swift movement, he licks the metal pole and pulls back.

Or tries to.

Chat lets out a muffled cry of distress and pain when the tip of his tongue sticks to the metal. Immediately, his hands go to wrap around the pole, pulling himself close enough until the hurt smooths off his face, soon replaced by panic. “Marinethe!” he yelps.

Marinette stares at him, her body frozen in a mixture of shock and amusement. Then the shock gives way to pure delight, and she bursts out laughing.

Chat takes it in stride. “Ha, ha,” he grumbles as she doubles over. He looks so stupid, with his tongue sticking out, gloved hands gripping the pole as his eyebrows scrunch. “Vthery thunny, Marinethe. Can you helpth?”

“You should see yourself,” Marinette manages throughout her giggles. “Oh my God, Chat, you really deserve this for not having better judgement.”

He lets out a long suffering groan. “Geth thith offth!”

“This is what people sounded like in Shakespearan times,” she continues.

Chat side-eyes her, unable to move his head any more than a bare centimeter. “Justh helpth!”

“Ooh, I got a good one. Cat got your tongue?”

He groans. “Is thith whath ith thakes for you tho maketh a joke?”

Marinette snaps a quick picture before taking pity on him. “Wait here,” she tells him. “I packed us hot tea. A little bit will be enough to unstick your tongue, probably.”

She skates back to where their bags lay on the bench and retrieves the thermos. Half a minute late, Marinette is pouring the steaming liquid into the cap, cooling it just enough, before raising it over Chat’s tongue. “Okay,” she tells him. “Get ready.”

For all his superhero experience and near-death scrapes, he actually looks scared of the tea. “Ith won’th burn me?”

“No,” Marinette reassures and raises the cup to her lips to take a sip. “See? Warm, not hot.”

Chat closes his eyes. Very carefully, Marinette pours a small stream steadily onto where Chat’s tongue has stuck to the metal pull. “Try to move away?” she suggests.

He wiggles his shoulders.

“I mean your face,” Marinette tells him drily. “Don’t be a scaredy cat.”

He scrunches his nose, then very slowly, moves his head back.

The tea does its job, because Chat unsticks himself from the metal easily. His eyes widen as if he can’t believe his luck, then lifts a cautious hand to his mouth and touches the tip of his tongue. “Ow,” he hisses. “It feels like I’ve burned my taste buds off.”

“You froze your taste buds off, but yes.” Marinette screws the lid back onto the thermos. “Lesson learned?”

“You dared me. You wanted this to happen, huh?”

She shrugs. “Can’t say I wasn’t expecting it.”

A look of playful betrayal sweeps over Chat’s face, and he lunges for her. Marinette, expecting it, scrambles out of the way just in time for him to go barrelling into a pile of snow.

By the time Chat Noir has sat up, snow tucked between his ears and all over his hair like cotton, she is already darting across the ice far, far away from him. Chat shakes the flakes from his head and slips onto the ice in one fluent movement as well.

Marinette grins as he comes skating after her. She’s not quite as confident on her skates without her transformation, but lessons and practice have done it’s good because she’s nearly as good as Chat is on the ice. For a good fifteen seconds she evades his messy attempts to catch her, but her disadvantage without her suit comes creeping up little by little until Chat finally manages to wrap a hand around her wrist.

“Gotcha,” he grins.

Then, with a little shove, Marinette crashes into the bank.

It doesn’t hurt, per say, because it’s a snowdrift he’s sent her into, but the cold is still a shock. For a moment, she stares at Chat, who’s laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world, before Marinette comes back to her senses and kicks a her leg at the blade of his skates.

Even his enhanced senses don’t help him from tumbling right into the pile of snow next to her.

One look at each other later, they’re both laughing.

(It’s nice; the time together, the easiness and lack of…everything else. It’s nice, his smile. His eyes.)

((And it’s then that Marinette realizes that she’s in deep, deep waters with no sight of the shore.))

***

They sit together on the bench, steaming tea between them, as Marinette shakes the last of the snow from her scarf and toque.

The sun is beginning to set, and the coldness has begun to creep into her bones, leaking through her overcoat. Every exhale sends little ghosts into the air, and even with the warm tea, Marinette is beginning to shiver.

Still, they’d arranged to watch the sunset, which means that she’s going to stay even if it means freezing to death.

“Let’s skate more,” Chat says. “You’ll be less cold if you’re moving.”

“I’d be less cold if you didn’t throw me into a pile of snow,” Marinette says between chattering teeth.

He gives her a sheepish look. “You got payback, at least? Come on.”

She looks at the hand extended to her. For a moment, Marinette hesitates, even if the butterflies in her stomach are doing a whole gymnastics routine and her heart’s thump thump thump must’ve quickened to at least twice as fast.

Then she takes Chat’s hand and lets him pull her to her feet.

This time, when she steps onto the ice, he doesn’t let go. Chat Noir’s hands are comfortably warm, tight around hers, and Marinette lets him lead her around the lake in a simple but graceful glide.

They skate until the sky turns from blue to gold, until the clouds dye orange and the world changes color altogether. It’s only then that Chat stops, lifting his head to the sunset. Marinette follows his gaze.

“It’s still cold,” she tells him pointedly, after a minute.

Before she knows it, Marinette is standing against his back, Chat’s arms draped lazily over her shoulders and his chin resting on top of her head. She can’t see him from where she’s standing, but she wonders if he can see her; if he can hear how her heart has jumped right to her throat and notice how the redness in her cheeks can’t be fully credited to the cold.

“Better?” he asks.

Marinette turns back to the sky, where now a brushstroke of red smears across the horizon. “Only slightly,” she replies as nonchalantly as possible.

His body shakes in a silent laugh. And so they stand on the ice, against the cold, until it all melts away to warmth.

(And Marinette thinks that even if she’s in deep waters, this sort of drowning is the best way to go.)

Notes: Fics masterlist here!

[frostedfaves]

Sharp Edges

Masterlist

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: “They say home is where your heart is, but what if my heart is six feet underground with you?”

Warnings: heavy angst, grieving, major death, depression, brief mention of implied vomiting, funeral at the end

A/N: sorry if you came here for a good time, but this is not it! based on these Sad Sunday and Fluff Monday blurbs! I’d recommend reading them first since they’re referenced in this, but not entirely necessary. anyway, excited to hear your thoughts! also I meant to post a request today and save this for next week but I started writing this during work and couldn’t stop. so I’ll work on getting requests out next week since I’ve got Sad Sunday tomorrow!

marvel requests?

-

Wanda Maximoff misses you.

When the news broke that you’d died from your injuries before she could get to you, her body collapsed on the spot. Her mind instantly recalled the memory of the last time she’d seen you truly happy.

For a week straight, your hands were covered in clay. Due to your lack of a childhood, you’d never gotten to experience normal things like attempting pottery in an art class. When you finally discovered it, the team never heard the end of it. You’d annoyed Tony into buying a kiln after coming home with enough clay to build a small village and got to work.

You worked a while on making tiles and carving winter trees and flowers into them, eventually moving onto dishes. You’d perfected plates and bowls but couldn’t figure out mugs, which only made you work harder to the point where Wanda had to drag you to the kitchen and bed each day.

On that seventh day you’d run into Wanda’s room, tackling her into a pile of laundry she was sorting because you were just that excited. You’d finally made a mug worth putting into the kiln, and a celebratory kiss was in order. She’d helped you pick out colors to paint it with, sporting a proud smile and eyes full of adoration.

She pressed repeat on your ecstatic screams echoing in her thoughts, hoping to drown out the cries of pain she’d heard over the phone. You’d been taken by an enemy from her very last mission, someone who had no knowledge that when Wanda disappeared months prior, she left you behind. They could only assume that you would be the easiest way to find her, not aware that you were just as in the dark on her whereabouts.

She’d listened with tears streaming down her cheeks as your captor made you beg, packing her belongings frantically while each whimper of her name turned her stomach a bit more. The regret of leaving her Lovely behind was immense, and she wanted nothing more in the moment than burning her enemy alive and bringing you into her arms forever.

There was a mixture of emotions in everyone when Wanda finally reached the compound, much slower upon receiving knowledge that your body rested there. Broken spirits lay behind defeated and tearful eyes, but looking into Steve’s nearly sent her crumbling to the floor again. 

They were cold and dark, as they earned the right to be. The eyes of a man who comforted his best friend for weeks, day and night, when the love of her life deserted her in her sleep. He was no stranger to your heavy sobs in the shower, overheard when he put sweaters in the dryer and left them in the bathroom because you shivered constantly. Your lifeless eyes at the dinner table when he forced you to leave your room. Sitting with you in the medical wing after breaking your wrists on the punching bag.

As far as Steve Rogers was concerned, Wanda deserved every bit of pain she felt.

This thought mixed in with the flashes of his memories of your suffering is what sent her to the floor, gasping for air with a wet face. Through Natasha and Tony’s legs as they approached her she caught him walking away, and it only made it harder to breathe. 

Your funeral came days later, and Wanda spent the entirety of the time in your room. The scent of your favorite lotion on her hands pulled her into a nightmare filled sleep, and she found comfort in it knowing that her reality upon waking up was far more painful. After taking a shower and checking with FRIDAY on Steve’s location in the building, she found herself staring at an empty space in one of the kitchen cupboards.

“Wanda, what’s going on?”

She turned at the sound of Pepper’s voice, heart clenching painfully at the sight of her formal dress. “Where’s her mug?”

“She smashed it.”

“What?” She wanted to ask why, but stopped herself in fear of the answer.

“She used it for the first time a month after you left. When she went to wash it, she saw where you’d painted on the bottom ‘Lovely’s Mug, Do Not Use’ and threw it against the  nearest wall.”

Wanda pushed past Pepper and sprinted to the closest bathroom, not even caring if anyone walked past and heard the violent act of everything she’d held back spilling out. Gentle hands came a few minutes later, one rubbing her back and the other wrapping any loose hairs around her poorly formed bun. When she’d finished, the toilet was flushed for her and a half empty bottle of water was shoved into her shaky grip.

“Rinse.”

She blinked in surprise at the stern tone, turning her teary gaze to meet eyes much softer than days prior. She stood on shaky legs after following his instruction and using the water, her confusion only growing as he helped her lean against the sink for support.

“I thought you hated me,” she voiced her concern into the quiet room, and Steve sighed.

“I want to, trust me.” He took the bottle from her and used his free hand to scratch at his beard nervously. “I loved--love her like family and when you left, it felt like she left too. Just when I thought I was getting her back, she was taken from me for good. As much as I want to hate you, I can’t. Especially knowing that until her last breath, she loved you.”

He stepped forward again, pulling Wanda into a warm embrace as tears rolled down both of their cheeks. The air grew still, heavy with emotion and silence punctuated with their sniffles.

“I hate that I ruined something she was so proud of making. Everything I touched of hers, I destroyed. Her mug, her heart. I wish I’d never left, and sometimes I wish I never met her. She would’ve done much better without me.”

Her next sniffle was cut short when Steve pulled away just enough to make eye contact.

“You may have made a small part of her life hard, but you spent much more time making her happy. Because of you, she stopped being so afraid of nighttime storms, instead associating it with time to spend close to you. She tried new things and worked harder on missions to help create a safe future for the two of you to exist in. And if anything, she’s inspired me to do the same, for you and all of us.”

Wanda remained silent as she mulled over his words, continuing to do so as she got dressed for the worst event of her life, only tied with Pietro’s funeral. She sat in the front row between Steve and Natasha, a numbness taking over as she listened to everyone speak so highly of you. Her arms held tightly to Tony in comfort as he cried in the middle of his speech, allowing Pepper to take over as she took his place in front of everyone.

“This is--for the second time--the worst thing I’ve ever had to do, but I’m not here to talk about me. I want to talk about my best girl, the one I only ever referred to as Lovely, from the moment I met her. In fact, I’d like to talk directly to her, if you don’t mind.”

She turned her gaze directly above the crowd toward the sky, smiling a bit when a bird crossed her line of vision.

“Lovely, I’m so sorry I left you behind. I thought I was protecting you from the monster I believed myself to be, but instead I just made everything worse. I should have stayed. We never got to finish that show we were binge-watching, and I don’t think that I ever will. Not without you.”

She paused for a moment to breathe, also taking the time to clear space on her cheeks for the next round of tears.

“I should have stayed to be around for the next thing you got into after pottery. You deserve to be that excited about something again. I loved the way you’d say my whole name with that shiny look in your eye that just made me love you so much more, and I remember you telling me that if you weren’t so afraid of annoying me, you’d call me by my full name all the time.”

Her eyes blinked as tears clouded her vision once more, allowing them to fall as she turned to your picture beside your covered body.

“I want to say thank you for being an amazing friend and even better girlfriend, Lovely. I didn’t deserve to have you, but I’m glad I was gifted with being a part of your life anyway. I hope that wherever you are, you’re as happy as you made me, and I want you to know something that will forever be true.”

She cleared her throat as her emotions began to choke her there, hands coming to wrap around the pendant of a necklace you gave her as her final words came out in a whisper.

“Wanda Maximoff misses you.”

-

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @creepingwolfberry @marie-03

[evermorehaikyuu]

Day 1

Title: Broken Heart

Note: As it is Angstember, I will warn you from this moment on: none of these angsts have a happy ending. That’s it, enjoy the ride.

˜”*°•.˜”*°•.•°*”˜.•°*”˜ 

There was nothing left to say. There was nowhere to go. It was all ruined and all because he couldn’t repress what he was thinking. Maybe honesty was the best policy, but in this situation, honesty made him lose the person he loved the most. 

All Kenma could do is sit in his gamer chair, his knees pressed to his chest as he started streaming. However, everyone realized that he wasn’t as sharp as he was the week before. Something had clearly happened and it showed on his face and how he was playing. His mind was whirring as he shook his head, trying to get his head in the game. But if loving someone was hard, letting them go was soul-destroying.

“Hey, Kenma, I found someone to play with us!” Kuroo bounced inside of his room as he was playing another game that his parents had given him the day before. 

Kenma looked up to see someone around his age peeking through the door, her face timid as she glanced at the floor. He was immediately reminded of Kuroo when they first met. All he could do was glance at her, a question in his eyes.

“This is Y/N L/N, she’s my new neighbor! Come on, let’s go play something, Kenma.”

He hesitated for a second, but it was Kuroo. Kuroo was his only friend and if he wanted him to play with the two of them, it was fine by him. Until he realized that they were playing volleyball.

“No, you have to put your arms together like this!” Kuroo stated, helping Y/N out. She frowned before looking at Kenma and blurting, “Do you get this at all?”

He was taken aback as those were the first words she had ever directed towards him. He was amused at her disgruntled face, reminded of his own expression when he started playing. Without saying a word, he walked over and started aiding Y/N in her position. That was how their first meeting went without a hitch.

~

“Kenma, I have a new game, do you want to come over and play with me?” 13 year old Y/N grinned at him, scrapes on her hands and legs.

He studied her scrapes, small tan Band-Aids covering her injuries. Reckless. But he still cared for her, even if he hardly showed it. “What happened to you?”

“Kuroo and I were playing soccer.” She picked at one of the Band-Aids on her hand, frowning before looking up at him expectantly, her eyes lit up like spotlights as she watched his reaction.

Without thinking twice about it, he nodded and headed to her place afterschool, settling down next to her as they started to play their game. About a few hours of this, Kenma had won multiple times and put down his controller. “Again?”

Silence. He waited for a second before looking over and finding that Y/N had fallen asleep. It was a weary day and yet she had offered to play a new game with him, knowing that he liked video games. With a sigh, he reluctantly put his jacket over her and went back home.

That’s when the tiniest spark began.

~ 

“You’re the setter for Nekoma?” Y/N asked, an arm slung over her knee as she tilted her head towards him in curiosity.

“Yeah.” He turned his head away from her, his hand clasping the psp in his jacket pocket. “It’s supposed to be the position where you don’t move that much.”

Y/N chuckled, staring at him with admiration in her eyes. She was so proud of how far he had come in a few years. She had never doubted him for a second, knowing that there was so much potential inside of Kenma Kozume. “You’re amazing, you know that, right? I never questioned if you could make it or not.”

With a gentle kiss to his temple, she stood up and walked back to her place, leaving him with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Did Y/N blatantly express how she felt towards him or was he just bringing his hopes up? But since that day, he didn’t understand why his heart rate sped up when he was near her or heard her name.

After winning a game, Y/N walked over to him and merely said, “Come with me, I want to show you something.”

Kenma followed her without thinking twice about it. She led him through the city, the lights bright and joyful, bringing a sense of calm to him only because he was with Y/N. As he peered at her, he looked at her eyes, reflecting all of the lights in the city as she walked through with confidence in her step. It seemed so long ago that she was bashful when they first met. She changed, for the better and it was something admirable to him.

The walk was no longer than thirty minutes. Usually he’d internally want to go home right away, but she was an exception. Going through cherry blossom trees, she plucked a blossom off of a low-lying branch, smiling down at the flower in her hand. She looked up at a hill with an enormous tree on it. Quickly running up, she beamed down at him. “Come on, Kenma, it’s a better sight up here!”

He didn’t change his pace, yet he reached the top of the hill and observed the area, trying to see where Y/N was. He immediately spotted her sitting down, her back to the trunk of the tree as she stared up at the stars. Kenma sat down next to her, looking up at the constellations as well. The stars reflected on the body of water across from them, making the scene picturesque and like something out of an art frame.

“I’m proud of you.” She muttered after a few moments. He peered at her and she continued. “You’ve worked so hard to get where you are and look at you now. You’ve changed. But the change made you who you are right now. It’s impressive, it’s been an inspiration to me.” Her face had a faraway expression, yet her hand crawled over to his and interlaced their fingers. Kenma did not have anything against having her hand in his.

“I hope you know that no matter what you do, I’ll be by your side, no matter what.”

~

“What? So now you’re ignoring me? Kenma, we’ve been in the same house for years now.” Y/N said, huffing as he walked to his office. He never took a break and it annoyed her. Along with that, he never looked her way, not even when she had made his favorite food.

“Just let me finish this and I’ll come back out.” He shut the door, leaving Y/N alone with his untouched food on the table.

The same excuse every time. He was either too busy or too tired. They were supposed to be working together, helping the other out as much as they could. Every relationship had their rocky parts, but it seemed as if it never stopped in their case. It made Y/N feel hopeless. Everytime she saw Kenma, her heart lifted and started pounding, her fondness for him never changing. Even now, she still loved him, although he seemed distant.

Love was a fragile thing. Yet she was grasping to the bits she could hold on to. The price of love was something awful, yet blissful. There wasn’t a lot she could do, but start letting him go slowly.

As the days went on, she found herself suffering silently, bingeing shows for days on end and her sadness getting worse and worse. It felt as if Kenma was never there, even though he was a few steps away. Time passed through like butterflies, fluttering away from her hands. Until she was sick of it and couldn’t resist her outburst.

“Kenma, can you come out here for a second?” Y/N asked with calm, her tone efficiently coming across as irate to anyone that could hear. 

The aforementioned man came out of his room, his hair tied up in its usual messy bun. From the look on his face, Y/N had interrupted him from doing something important. Then again, that was his go-to excuse.  “What?” That was it. He wasn’t sugarcoating how he felt and it stung her. 

“We have to talk.”

Usually, those words would bring some sort of foreboding, but not to him. He had expected this and yet never wanted to do anything about it. He put the psp back in his hoodie pocket, his eyes examining her. It was clear he wanted to be anywhere but there. 

“You told me--no, you’ve been telling me that we were okay, that we were fine. So explain one thing to me, Kenma, why have you been avoiding me?”

He stayed there quietly, not realizing what was going on. He wasn’t stupid, but he couldn’t see the obvious thing. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve been busy.”

“That’s always your excuse. We’ve never gone out for something, we’ve never stayed in the same room together.”

“Maybe because you always leave the room when I walk in.” His temper was not short, yet something about the conversation made him overthink. Overthinking was not his forte, nor was it a state of mind that he was usually in. Overthinking made him frustrated because he was the analytical one, he knew the results of something, so it wasn’t his fault that he was thinking that way.

“You’re pinning this on me?” She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Kenma, I’m not the one avoiding you, you’re the one that’s locked up in your office all day! I don’t want to disturb you, but I don’t want to be the one to initiate everything.” Her voice cracked the slightest bit at the end, but she cleared her throat.

It didn’t escape Kenma. In fact, it made his blood boil more. This wasn’t a situation to be weak in and yet she was showing signs of weakness. This wasn’t supposed to happen. “Why are you arguing about this with me?”

“You’re completely missing the point! We’re supposed to help each other!”

Blank.

“I’m the one supporting you, why can’t you do the same for me?”

Unforgivable.

“Kenma...please….”

Unjustifiable.

“Tell me what to fix, how to fix us.” Her face held a plea, but in her eyes, it was all clear. She wanted him to apologize but apologize for what? Being busy? Working so that they could both have a good life? He couldn’t hold back his next words.

“Don’t you get it?! I’m working hard for me, I’m doing what I should’ve been doing a long time ago!” He snapped, his face contorted in anger. He took a deep breath and with a growl, he stated, “There is no us, there never was.”

It was a split second later when he realized what he said and his eyes widened as he saw Y/N’s eyes glimmer with tears before she blinked them back, her breath coming out shakily. “None of this was real. I should’ve known. You’re just like the rest of them.”

He tried to reach out for her and she ripped her arm out of his grip, slamming the door to their room.

That night, he felt an emptiness creeping amongst the house and he peeked inside of the bedroom before completely opening the door. His eyes flitted everywhere, his heart twisting inside of his chest. Everything that was hers….everything was gone. The clothes he had bought for her still hung in the closet, along with the hoodie she had stolen from him whenever she felt lonely. All of the items he had bought for her...left behind.

No, she can’t have left, she can’t. Kenma thought as he dug through the room, trying to search for something that would give him an idea of where she was but nothing. She was gone. He had done the thing he never wanted to do in his life. 

His love had left. She wasn’t going to be there for him when he started breaking apart.

~

It had been a week since the incident and he had not heard from her or about her. His hands shook on his console as he swallowed and continued talking quietly into his headset, but his skill did not match that of a week ago. 

It was funny, he thought, how love could be so fragile and yet humans had a tendency to leap headfirst without worrying about the repercussions. Then again, that was what he did when he fell in love with Y/N.

After the stream, usually he’d head right into editing, but not today. His heart hurt too much. She meant everything to him and he gave her nothing in return. They had been together for years and her love for him had never faltered. It wasn’t her fault. It was his.

Walking through the city, he was always with Y/N as they went to their place by the tree, through the cherry blossom. He remembered staring at her while her eyes looked up in wonder, every part of her easily awed by the bright pink efflorescence around them. He remembered her reaching for his hand and interlacing their fingers without thinking twice about it.

So many memories. 

All of them now gone. 

As he walked up the hill, he couldn’t help but hope she was up there, waiting for him with her hand out. In fact, when he was up there, he had a gentle and expectant smile, only to realize the cold and hard truth: she wasn’t there awaiting him. 

Sitting by the trunk of the tree, he looked up at the stars, but they didn’t shine as bright as before. Without her, it was bleak, it felt like he had no hope.

Kuroo had asked him what was going on, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer it. 

Kenma brought a little black box out of his hoodie pocket, rubbing his thumb across the velvety cube. Inside was a 24 karat ring, simple but with intricate patterns weaved inside of it, a metaphor to their love. It was supposed to be opened for her to take, for them to create a new life together. Yet he had messed it up.

He held the box in his hand as he pulled his knees to his chest, burying his face in them. His vision started blurring with tears, his throat feeling like it was being scraped by a fork. Hot tears started running down his cheeks as his mouth quivered as he tried to hold back his sobs as the memories raced through his head.

All the comfort he got from Y/N, he wouldn’t get it ever again. He could only comfort himself from then on. Choked wails came out of him, anguish piercing him like bullets. 

He stayed like that for a while before wiping his ongoing tears away. Standing up, he clasped the tiny box in his hand, staring at it before setting it by the trunk. Hopefully whoever found it would be able to love their significant other like he couldn’t.

Taking the first step was the hard part. Walking away was the laborious component. 

No matter what he did, he couldn’t love her. He tried so hard to do so and it backfired on him. He walked alongside the city, everything dark around him.

Love was a fragile thing. So fragile anything could rip it in half. He ripped her heart apart. And he'd have to live with that for the rest of his life.

Taglist: @skyguy-peach​ @jovialnoise​ @versatilewindow​ @tsukiibaka​ @jaegersblogh​ @kodzuken-pie​ @sugusho​ @tired-penguinn​

[fromthehellmouth]

One for Sorrow, Two for Mirth

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Maledictus! Femme! Gryffindor! oc. Regrettably, there is so much angst... Part One!

Maledictus prompt requested by @hyacinthsandbooks I had so much fun creating this character, thanks for the prompt! Feedback is greatly appreciated! 

Drawing by me and inspired by scenes from the story. I hope you enjoy!

Overview: 

Tom Riddle befriends an unlikely victim of a powerful blood curse

I had increasingly found myself in a perpetual state of insomnia and dread. There was almost nothing I could occupy my mind with that would take it from my lingering anxiety and melancholia surrounding my condition. My nights were long and restless, and I had to become endlessly creative in order to find ways that would keep me out of trouble as well as keeping me occupied during the long dark nights in the Gryffindor common room alone past curfew. Often, it would result in me exploring the castle grounds in my other form, or writing down my thoughts to pass the time. Perhaps it was the concept of literature that I would gravitate to because of its mysterious qualities of immortality. It was chilling but also somewhat comforting to know that my works would remain with me far after I had irreversibly changed. It was not something I liked to dwell on, but it was something that I knew I could not escape from--it was always there, nagging, prodding, looming over my decisions, my psyche--it was a horribly cruel curse. 

Over a century ago my family had gotten involved with a group of vengeful wizards who were known for their adaptations of some of the darkest corners of the dark arts. They fled the country but the curse went with them. Once a curse of that strength had penetrated its way into your bloodline, it would permanently dwell there, feeding off you, like a tumor, like a degenerative disease, like a leech, essentially, it declared its power with its name; it was a blood curse. It was only a matter of years before there would be nothing more I could do, and I would have to accept my change and my fate with it. At least there was no need to study for N.E.W.Ts. My parents had begged me for years not to accept such a pessimistic attitude, to care about my studies, my dreams, and my aspirations. Over the past few months, through our owl correspondence, I felt they had lost the motivation to keep pestering me about a life that had been taken from me the moment my grandmother told me what I was: a maledictus. 

Fortunately, at this point in my development, my transformations were still voluntary. When I was very young, I remember having frequent visits to the Ministry of Magic with my parents. They would have me seen by famous dark wizard catchers, legendary curse-breakers, healers, and talented seers. From the beginning we knew there was no known cure for this type of blood curse, but I think the little security the aurors offered was necessary for my parents to hold onto. They needed expert opinions, that unfortunately would continue to tell them there was nothing to be done. Of course, my childhood self had virtually no knowledge of the severity of my condition, and thought it was simply enchanting to see mommy and daddy’s workplace.

Since my first year at Hogwarts, I had told no one about my condition except headmaster Dippet, professor Stump—my head of house, and professor Merrythought who was an expert in the dark arts because after all, she was the DADA teacher. I liked professor Merrythought quite a bit. She was an older woman with grey-blonde hair pinned back in a loose braided bun which she always had hairs escaping from. She was one of the few people who did not immediately resort to pity and fear when I told her what my bloodline had been cursed with. She was calm and interested, she told me how special I was and got me involved into studying more about blood disorders involving dark magic. Unfortunately, there had been rumors of her leaving Hogwarts and retiring—yet another thing I would be attempting to repress. My mind had become an expert at most coping mechanisms, my methods of choice being denial, repression, and sublimation--primarily writing. 

In a sense, knowing my future was carved into stone was somewhat freeing. It allowed me to live fully and completely in the moment, and not have to plan or study for my future. In another sense, the looming dread was very real, and seemed to be working its way into the grooves of my personality--settling in the fine lines of my psyche. My dull despair had become a part of me. I never doubted my purposelessness until I met Tom Riddle. 

***

It was nearly 1:45am when I noticed his figure contrasted against the shamrock-green hills. In a defeated attempt to become more comfortable with my animal form, I had begun to fly over the castle grounds more recently during the night when I felt my insomnia had become too much for me to ignore by lounging in the Gryffindor common room long after the other students had taken leave. I was never in the mind of being rebellious or secretive, and I was almost positive that if I had told professor Merrythought, she would have kept the sensitivity of my travels safe. Spotting a dark-clothed figure, I circled closer, still keeping my distance. Edging in tiny fractions closer to the tops of the forbidden forest’s trees, I made my way closer to the figure. I was presently slightly concerned for encountering the kind of person who would be coming from the forbidden forest at nearly 2 o’clock in the morning, but my growing curiosity controlled me, and I eyed the figure from above, still slowly cruising lower and lower. When I had reached the grass, the figure had entered the covered corridor leading to the clock tower, and I decided to present myself to the figure who couldn’t have been more than 6 feet away from me. It was always fun to play out a little scare. I let out a shrill, stuttering call. The figure froze, spinning swiftly with a hand to his mouth. I could see his shoulders quivering as he stared at me. 

“...it’s just a magpie, Tom...” he whispered to himself as if he needed convincing. As he turned to face me, I immediately recognized him as a popular Slytherin boy from... history of magic...? divination...?

“Unless...” 

Defense against the dark arts. That was it. 

“Are you... an animagus?” 

I froze. How could he have known? There was no way he could have known... Silently and immediately I flew back outside the covered corridor back into the open air, and faster than I had ever flew before, I found my way back to the Gryffindor tower, perching on the windowsill I had left open, dropping inside, and in the darkness transforming back into a student and swiftly slipping under the thick covers, I fell asleep suprisingly effortlessly. 

***

In the morning I awoke earlier than usual. It was as if my mind knew I had been gifted with a long sleep and didn’t want me to get comfortable. I had become accustomed to falling asleep late and waking up early—both situations leaving me awake while the rest of the castle lay unconscious. I put on my uniform and brushed out my hair. I found that the more I transformed, the silkier my hair had become, it was as if the strands were becoming more feather-like, and tended to reflect the light more. I had gotten nearly a dozen requests for the enchantment I had used, always leaving me with an awkward and less than satisfactory “it must just be oily.” I descended the stairs to the common room where I read the clock.

5:30.

Defeatedly, I gathered all my schoolbooks and began to review the material for my first class of the day. Herbology.

***

I decided to take a walk to the kitchens to pick up a cup of tea before breakfast, which begun at 9am each morning. I still had a few hours before breakfast, so after I made myself a cup I circled back to the clock tower courtyard near where I had departed from the boy I had followed last night. I sat on the ledge of the fountain and began to re-read the textbook required for this upcoming unit in herbology on uses and cautions of aquatic plants. We would be taking a guided field trip to the Black Lake for research, which I was quite excited for. While my eyes danced across the finely-scripted writing in the yellowing book, my mind wandered to last night. I found myself retracing my steps, and visualizing the boy’s face above me, shocked and intrigued. What did he know?

***

After herbology class, which had been held at the Black Lake, I followed the mass of students back to the main castle grounds. My days at school were mostly spent alone either studying or hopelessly wandering in my mind to places where I no longer had to abandon my future. I recognized very few people as friends, and I stood out from my fun-loving, reckless, and colorful housemates. It was as if my natural personality I remembered glimpses of from childhood had been veiled with a layer of plaque, tarnished and dusty. I didn't mind the aloneness. I often felt most secure when I didn’t need to reveal my secret to anyone, and was able to choose my schedule the way I saw fit. Back in the castle, I followed my normal crowd of Gryffindors who I shared my first two classes with. These were the students who I sat with at meals, went to study parties with, sat in the common room after hours with, but never ended up knowing very well. It was a polite relationship. They asked me what I thought about our next class’ lesson. 

“Can’t say I’m excited.” I rolled my eyes, my hands rested deep in the pockets of my skirt. 

“Don’t want people to know what you’re scared of?” 

“Must be it.” 

Defense against the dark arts with professor Merrythought was next, and the notorious lesson on boggarts had been expected by most students for months. Undoubtedly there was excitement for exposure to mysterious and dark creatures as well as teasing material for students with childish fears. I couldn’t help think of the boy I had encountered by the clock tower who I would inevitably see again this upcoming class. I hoped my nervous habits would not give me away as suspicious. For some reason, I felt the need to be wary of him.

***

The classroom had been completely rearranged for the upcoming lesson, with the chairs and desks pushed to either side of the long room, and professor Merrythought’s figure standing in the back near a large ornate chest. As the students trickled in, the rumblings of the crowd grew louder as giggles and anticipation filled the cold air. My hands wrapped around my arms as I attempted to retain my warmth. 

Am I the only one who notices that draft?

Merrythought calmed us down and begun her lecture on the history of the discovery and initial magical responses to the boggart. It takes the image of what you most fear... Its true form has never been seen... It withers at the sound of laughter... The students got called up one at a time as she showed us the counter-curse Riddikulus! which would obstruct the boggart’s form and intercept its visual manipulation. Riddikulus! the steep chasm of a split cliff lets out a nasty fart and the room explodes in laughter. Riddikulus! a swarm of wasps turn into winged lemons and drop to the floor, rolling around and colliding with each other, and the class cackles. 

Godric, would she just close that bloody window?!

“Lucia!” the room’s roaring died down and I felt my face turn red hot. My stomach twisted and contorted within me and my walk was feeble as I approached the large chest. 

“And when the boggart is released, remember the incantation!” I swallowed hard and in a second, the lid of the chest flew open and a swirling silvery mass flew toward me and shifted into a bird, its head, beak, and breast were black mimicking a raven, but its belly was white and the under-feathers of the wings and long elegant tail that caught the light shimmered hints of deep phthalo green and royal Prussian blue. The bird began to lunge toward me and in a panic I shouted the incantation much louder than I expected. 

“Riddikulus!!” The bird’s feathers erupt in every direction, leaving the creature completely bald and resembling an uncooked chicken, struggling to stay suspended in the air. The class giggled and Merrythought propelled the creature back into the chest and called forward the next student as I slipped back into the crowd. 

“Tom!” The boy approached the chest in a single fluid moment. He wore his school robes to every class unlike the majority of students who only wore the required minimum of a blouse, sweater and trousers or skirt. He stood out not only because of his height but because his ebony-black hair glistened under the  lantern-lit room. His robes seemed to be an extension of his broad square shoulders, and as he readied his wand I felt the room muffle in an unnatural stillness. The boggart shifted into the body of a young boy, with the same black hair as Tom, the same pale skin and full, pink lips, but the boy’s eyes were closed, his face was hollowed and gaunt, and he was lying on the floor, seemingly lifeless. The class seemed to collectively hold its breath as the dead body of a young boy nearly identical to the older Tom lay before us. Tom lifted his wand and smoothly uttered, 

“Riddikulus.” The black robes along with the body of the boy melted into a thick black bubbling slime that seemed to shake and bounce slightly. This time there was no laughter. There was no reaction. Professor Merrythought quickly swooped up the transformed boggart with her wand and tossed it with a graceful flick back into the large chest. 

“Well done class! Quite the show. That’s the end of the lesson for today, we’ll continue where we left off tomorrow!” The students murmured with the abrupt dismissal and I couldn’t help myself from straying my gaze to look at Tom. To my instant shock his piercing aquamarine eyes shot right back at me and I almost let out an audible gasp at the sudden intensity of his stare. I felt my heart-rate race and I nearly ran from the classroom. 

*** 

Later that night my mind was racing, I had to know what he knew, why he had stared at me back in class, did he know I was the bird who had followed him last night? I sat by the crackling fireplace of the Gryffindor common room. The clock read “12:10,” and there was only one girl left in my company. She sat at the other corner of the room and I could hear the shuffling of books which meant I would soon be alone and she would be going to sleep. I caught myself staring into the flames, the fire dancing and glittering into smoke and stray glowing embers. 

“Goodnight!” the girl called out as she ascended the stairs to the dorms. 

“Goodnight.” I replied, my voice was tired but my mind was wide awake. My eyes lazily flew over the spread of books before me. 

There was no way I would be able to study with Tom on my mind. 

I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his bright eyes flashed in that cold room. It was as if the only thing my head could focus on were those piercing eyes and the image of that magpie lunging right toward me.

If you’d like to read Part Two, click here

Tags: @tmr-simp-pride

[nsheetee]

vanilla latte | renjun

pairing: art student!renjun x barista!reader genre: coffee shop au | fluff summary: renjun finally finds his muse: a little coffee shop on campus. he thinks the building itself is what’s propelling his hand to finish all of his art assignments, but when you’re not the barista serving him when he walks in one night, he realizes that may not be the case...

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this is part of the moonlight cafe series — please read the preface before continuing reading

he has a sketchpad clutched to his chest, earphones in his ears, and bags under his eyes as he curiously checks out the store

the small, silver bell above the door jingles as he closes it, and to renjun it sounds like magic sprinkling down over him as he walks in

there aren’t many people in the coffee shop, some stragglers who are too busy with their work to notice him

and that’s the way renjun likes it

renjun hates his dorm room

he hates how loud his roommates play games into all hours of the night

it clutters his mind and makes working on his art hard

tonight, he was absolutely done with his shouting roommates and decided to pack his things and head out of the dorm

renjun had no idea where he would go

the library is already closed, and it’s not like any of his friends would be up at this time to let him come over

just as he starts mindlessly walking out of his dorm building, he notices a cafe further down the block

an open sign hangs on the door, and it’s enough to draw him in

you wait patiently while your new customer makes his way to the counter, mouth slowing dropping in awe as he takes in the ambience of the shop

you don’t blame him, the cafe has a certain aesthetic that everyone loves to hang out in during the day

and at night, it’s even more pleasing to the eye

the big windows that cover the front of the store let in the moonlight and the street lights from the park

the dark hardwood floors makes the open room feel less like a store and more like you’re at home

the far wall is made completely of red brick with some fairy lights attached across the top

“how can I help you?” you ask him when he comes close enough, finally making eye contact

he’s stunned for a minute as he looks at you, fingers fumbling to take out his headphones as he begins to speak

“oh. uh, can I get a medium vanilla latte?” he asks, his voice sounding as if he was lost his whole life, and just found himself when he walked through the doors

“sure-” before you can ask if he wanted any extra shots of espresso, he sits down, spreading out his drawing materials, and getting straight to work

you can’t help but peer at him from your spot at the espresso machine

he’s beautiful- you find him absolutely captivating 

his brown hair is long and it grows more in the back, giving him a faux mullet

(you would never in your life think you could be attracted to a mullet, but here you are)

more than his appearance, you find his concentration on his sketchpad and the furrow of his eyebrows to be attractive

he looks so intense as he works, but you can tell he’s not stressed

renjun’s hand moves faster than ever before

and he realizes he just found his muse, his new inspiration:

this cafe

you set his vanilla latte down in front of him, careful to not put his drawings in harms way

“thank you...” he barely mumbles to you, still focused on his artwork

the young artist comes in the next night, and the night after that, and every weekend that you work

he always orders a vanilla latte, sits down at the counter, and draws until you’re sure his wrists hurt and his eyes ache

despite him sitting in front of you for several hours every night, you don’t know his name, and you haven’t talked much or seen any of his drawings

honestly, you’re too shy to ask him

maybe he doesn't want to show you what he has been working on?

renjun doesn’t remember the last time he was this energized and inspired

his hand moves faster than his eyes, his heart rate increasing every time his mind wanders out of him and into the cafe

every time he finishes his assignments, he reaches for his sketchpad and lets his muse drive his art

every time he cranes his neck up, his eyes immediately come into contact with the beautiful cafe

the way you effortlessly move around your side of the counter while making drinks, the backdrop of the multitude of paintings behind you as if you’re dancing on your own masterpiece

the way you smile at all the customers, no matter what time of night it is or how many extra shots they order, the soft yellow lighting of the shop shining down perfectly into every crevice of the store

renjun is so entranced by this coffee shop, he wonders how he didn’t find this place earlier

one wednesday night, renjun feels particularly stuffed by his small dorm room and decides to head to the cafe to clear out his clogged brain

when renjun walks into his favorite cafe, he immediately feels that something is not right

at the cash register, he’s greeted by an older man with a gaze so piercing that renjun is a bit hesitant to sit at the counter

“hello, what can I get you?” the man asks

“uh, a vanilla latte, please?”

all of a sudden, renjun realizes why the cafe looks so different

it’s because you’re not here

there’s something weird about not seeing the same barista that usually resides on the other side of the counter

renjun isn’t sure what this foreign feeling is that’s filling his chest

it’s something akin to the feeling of coming home and the place not looking familiar because of new furniture, or looking at yourself in the mirror for the first time after getting a major haircut 

“can I ask you a question?” renjun reaches out for his coffee as the barista slides it to him on the counter, renjun notices his name is taeyong

“sure.” 

“where is the barista that usually works here at night?”

“are you talking about our new barista? well, she only works friday, saturday, and sunday nights. why? is there a problem?”

renjun shakes his head absentmindedly and taeyong nods quizzically before going back to the cash register where another customer is waiting

renjun opens his sketchbook that he set down on the counter earlier, preparing his pencils and pens, gripping one and staring down at the paper

and staring....

and staring....

and only staring

renjun waits for his hand to move by itself like it did all the other times he has sat in this exact same chair 

he looks up in front of him, and frowns deeper when he sees taeyong sweeping the floor, and not you

he glances around the coffee shop, waiting for inspiration to hit him like a truck and send his hand flying across the paper

but it never happens

renjun becomes frustrated; why won’t this cafe all of the sudden not work its usual charm?

is it because it’s a wednesday night?

is it because there’s more people here than usual?

is it because you’re not on the other side of the counter, sending him your small smile when you hand him his coffee?

oh...

how could renjun be so dense?

he drops his pencil, picking up his sketchbook instead and flipping through the last several pages

the backdrop of the cafe is in all of them

and so are you

your figure repeatedly shows up in all of renjun’s drawings, and when he looks at the portrait of a person he’s been picturing in his mind for weeks, he realizes it looks like you

his head is dizzy with this new discovery

renjun cringes, yet blushes, at the thought of telling you you’re his muse

it’s such an intimate and romantic confession; he finds you so beautiful to draw pages and pages and pages of drawings of you

the next time he comes into the cafe, it’s a friday night

the place is swamped, you have your hair up in a messy bun and your cheeks blushed red from the exertion of moving around so much

renjun’s hand itches to grab his favorite pen and draw this moment into his sketchbook, but he forces himself to sit and watch you, hoping you don’t notice him gawking over your form

once the rush is over, renjun adds shading to the portrait of you as he finally orders his vanilla latte

he didn’t want to add to your hectic rush, so he waited until it looked like you calmed down and restocked a bit

he glances at you through his eyelashes, resting a hand on his cheek to be able to comfortably glance between you and his art

you set his cup down next to him, sending him that smile that he’s so familiar with

until you glance down at his sketchpad

although the sketch appears upside down to you, you can make out your features adorning the person on the page

the young artist hides his face from you, but doesn’t move to cover his artwork

you glance around the cafe; the number of people have dwindled down and the ones who remain don’t focus on what’s happening up at the counter

biting your lip, you walk out of your side of the counter and sit down next to the boy that has been occupying your mind (and counter space) every night you’ve worked for the past few weeks

renjun is surprised when you take a seat next to him, and looks up at you with slight fear and wonderment

“hi, I'm y/n.”

“I'm renjun.” he mentally pats himself on the back for not stuttering, but when you raise your hand to shake his, his gulps and his mind goes blank

your hand is soft, and even though you have espresso under your nails, they’re still the prettiest hands he has ever seen

“I thought that if you’re going to draw me, you might want to see me in a better light.” you give your weak explanation, and renjun laughs 

“sorry, this might be weird for you, but every time I see you I just want to... draw.” renjun tries to explain the feeling of being inspired by you, but you shake your head

“you don’t have to explain. just draw, and I'll sit here for you.”

and renjun does

he draws until his wrists ache and he’s sure he’s memorized every mole, imperfection, and scar on your face

he draws until he has memorized the amount of eyelashes you have and how many stars sparkle in your eyes

and when renjun goes back to his dorm that night, he realizes it’s not enough

he comes back every night you work, draws into the oblivion until he’s sure he has run out of energy

and then he draws some more

taeyong saw renjun’s artwork of the cafe one night and bought all the artwork from him to hang up in the store

eventually, his drawings end up on the red brick wall, snuggly tucked into wooden frames and illuminated by the fairy lights

and in the top right corner of the wall hangs the portrait of you

it’s the only drawing without a frame, and the only one that renjun didn’t receive money for

he even pined it up to the wall himself, wanting to keep you in the cafe in some type of way as a reminder of this place and you, his muse

[meliaaizawa]

PINK SWEATS: ORIGIN

Short and sweet... inspired by some fan art I saw earlier, but also by this iconic look.

Word count: 810

Shota sat at the kitchen table with laptop out and his iPad on its stand. It was a long week of school, and he was glad for the weekend, though he still had a lot of grading to get done. He pushed his glasses back up on his nose as he continued to type his feedback on the particular paper he w as on. His train of thought was broken at the voice of his wife who had just entered the room. “Sho, why aren’t you dressed yet?” she asked. Shota looked up from his screens to see his wife in a flowery dress and her hair halfway up. “Dressed for what?” he said, taking off his glasses so he could admire his wife better. “Tonight is the party for the 5-year anniversary of Hizashi’s radio show!” Mei replied. “Oh… We’ve had this conversation before, and I already told you I'm not going,” he said, putting his glasses back on and going back to his work. Mei rolled her eyes. “Why are you so stubborn about these things? It’s celebrating your best friend!! If you don’t want to go for Hizashi’s sake, then you can at least settle to go for my sake, right??” she said. Shota just shrugged and replied “I don’t want to go. We both know it’ll be wild and crowded, and he always plays his music too loud.”

Mei’s eyebrows furrowed at this, and she disappeared back into their bedroom. A few minutes later, she reappeared, no longer dressed up, but now in her over-sized pink sweatpants and t-shirt, with her hair up in a messy bun. Shota looked back up from his work when she re-entered and gave a long sigh. “What are you doing?” he asked. “I’m not going,” she said shortly as she pouted and made her way to the couch, sprawling herself across it with a volume of manga. “You were just saying how important this is for Yamada… If you’re just being stubborn because I’m not going, then I’ll go with you if I need to,” he said, still looking at his wife, but unable to see her face hidden by her book. “I’m not trying to force you to go. I’m trying to leave you alone,” Mei said stubbornly.

Shota rolled his eyes, got up from his seat, and walked over to his wife. He crouched down next to the couch and moved her book so he was looking into her eyes. “Meiya… I love you enough to go with you to Yamada’s noisy party. Are you positive about not going?” he asked. She nodded and stubbornly said, “I’m not going. If you love THAT much, go to his noisy party by yourself without-“ and before she was able to finish her sentence, Shota had scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder. “I said enough to go WITH you… so you’re coming,” he said as he carried her on his shoulder towards their bedroom. “Put me down, I can walk myself, y'know?,” Mei said with a hint of aggravation still in her voice. “Nope. If I do, you may escape... You said you weren’t trying to force me to go, but I will force YOU to,” he said, in his usual dry manner, though Mei could tell he was being playful.

She couldn’t help but tear up, partway from the unreleased frustration of her husband’s stubbornness, but mostly because of how much he loved her. She grew less tense and enjoyed being held by Shota, just in time for him to gently drop her onto the bed. “Ok, let’s get dressed, we’re going to be late,” he said, turning towards his closet, but stopping at the feeling of the weight of his wife who had just jumped on his back. “…thank you…” she said, kissing the back of his neck before letting go and falling on the floor. He continued on to his closet and pulled out a black suit and red tie. The two of them got dressed, and Mei looked at her husband. “You look great, but I think you may be a bit too dressed up… the party is supposed to be business casual, not business formal,” she said with a chuckle. He sighed and said, “I don’t feel like changing…” then saw the pink sweatpants on the floor that his wife had taken off. He took off his pants and put on the pink sweats. “There... Business,” he said, motioning to his suit top. “Casual,” as he motioned to his sweatpants. Mei began laughing to the point of tears and shook her head. “I don’t know how I managed to fall so deeply in love with you,” she said as she put her arm around his waist and walked towards the door with him in her pink sweats.

[castiel-barnes]

The Wedding.

Frankie 'Catfish' Morales. Drawing AU. Part 4.

Pairing: Frankie 'catfish' Morales x Reader

Summary: After a few months they finally get married.

Wordcount: 1.4k

Warnings: mentions of like an anxiety attack. Don't @ me I'm not great with this stuff.

Tags: @scribbledghost @phoenixhalliwell

A/n: I know it has been months since I last updated this series. But I've been struggling for inspiration with this one.

It had been a few months since Frankie had proposed. The two of you had never been more happier. All of the boys had been a huge helping hand with everything in the wedding planning. You and Frankie had decided that you wouldn't have too many at your wedding.

"Carl said that we could use his barn he uses for parties, for the wedding." You said to Frankie when the two of you were sat at the table planning.

Carl was your next door neighbour who was as sweet as pie, he'd help Frankie fix a few things that need a pair of extra hands and complimented your art work. In the years of living in your current house, Carl had become a good friend of yours.

"That's good, I really like that barn anyways." Frankie replied smiling up at you from his laptop.

The two of you discussed everything, you had even discussed who would be walking you down the aisle. None of your family would be coming, so you came up with someone who knew you just as well. Santiago. You were close to all the boys, like big brothers to you. But with Santi, it was like he was your favourite brother.

"Okay mi amor, who do you want to walk you down the aisle?" Frankie asked, you sat there for a moment and thought.

"Um... Santiago. I'm going to ask Santi to walk me down the aisle." You replied smiling a bit.

"Okay." Frankie said smiling back at you. After agreeing on who would walk you down the aisle, you texted Santi.

'Hey Santi, can you come round quickly? I need to ask you something in person.'

You texted,

'Of course I can doodle, I'll be round in a bit.'

Santi replied within a few minutes. About 20 minutes later Santi showed up at the door. Walking through the through the door, he smiled at the two of you.

"Hey doodles, hey Fish how have you been?" Santi asked,

"Not too bad, Y/N has a serious question for you Pope." Frankie responded. Your anxiety picked up ever so slightly, but you had your boys next to you so you knew you'd be alright.

"Santi, would you do me the honour of walking me down the aisle at our wedding?" You asked smiling slightly,

"Really?!" He replied suprised. You smiled fully and nodded.

"Of course I will! I would be honoured too." Santi said smiling and hugging the two of you.

You both trusted Santi with your lives, being big brother to the two of you. All of the boys were your brothers, and each of them had their nicknames for you. Frankie had all the basic relationship nicknames for you like: mi amor, babe, honey and your favourite, Future Mrs Morales. Santiago names for you were: care bear, doodles and peaches. And then the boys shared the other nicknames: short cake is a main one, star and kiddo. All of the boys cared deeply for you, since you were part of the group.

Santi stayed for a little while longer before he headed back home.

"I love you Mr Morales." You stated quietly as you watched the sun go down from the crook of Frankies arm.

"I love you too Future Mrs Morales." Frankie replied kissing your temple and letting it linger.

***************************

Timeskip: Wedding Day.

Since asking Santiago to walk you down the aisle, you and Frankie had planned everything of your small wedding. Your next door neighbour helped the boys to set up his barn for your wedding.

About an hour out from the actual ceremony, you started to otherthink and panic. Causing your anxiety to heighten. One of your bridesmaids called Santiago to come help you calm down.

"Hey doodles, are you okay?" Santi asked kneeling infront of you. You shook your head.

"Okay Y/N, look at me and breath." He continued. You tried to calm down, but nothing was working.

"Do you want me to get Frankie?" He asked, and again you shook your head,

"B-bad luck to see bride." You stuttered.

"I know honey, but we've gotta calm you down." He replied, eyes begging you.

"Okay." Yoh stated quietly. Santi kissed the top of your head, then ran off. After a few minutes, he returned back.

"Okay doodles, here's the plan. Frankie is here but he is around the corner. He won't see you, but you can still talk." Santiago explained. You nodded and followed him to a corner where a chair was set up.

"Hey cariño." You heard Frankie say from around the corner,

"F-frankie." You replied searching for his hand and finally finding it.

"What's wrong baby?" He asked,

"S-scared of it." You stuttered out closing your eyes.

"Scared of what sweetheart? You need to tell me okay?" Frankie replied stroking his thumb over your knuckles,

"The amount of people, in the barn." You finally stated. Frankie sighed and squeezed your hand finally realising that your fear of crowds won't be helpful.

"Okay honey, it's alright. Santi and I will be right there with you. You know that don't you?" Frankie said reassuring you,

"Yeah." You responded quietly finally calming a bit.

"Okay, when you walk down the aisle Santi will be right next to you. Just focus on me and no one else." Frankie explained. The two of you talked for a little bit more until it was time for the ceremony.

"I'll be waiting for you alright honey?" Frankie said quietly,

"Yeah baby, I'll be there." You replied smiling finally, your anxiety now less than it was. You left to go back to your room and Santiago came with you. Your makeup was a little messed up, but the bridesmaids helped resolve that problem fairly quickly.

Santiago offered you his arm, as the two of you walked across to the barn.

"You ready?" He asked smiling at you,

"Yeah, i-i think I am. Thank you Santi." You replied giving him a little smile.

"Its alright, you look beautiful by the way." He stated making you blush a little. You heard the music start playing, and Santi squeezed your arm to reassure you. The doors opened and all you focused on was Frankie at the end of the aisle. His jaw dropped and his eyes glazed over a little. You noticed that he had shaven but left his mustache and combed his hair. You smiled at him and blushed a little.

"Hi baby." He whispered,

"Hi handsome." You replied smiling. The ceremony was nice and small. The two of you tearing up when you said "I do." Even the boys started tearing up at some point.

The wedding reception had the boys, some of your friends and some of Frankies family. Your dance was soft and slow, you felt like you were on top of the world right now.

"You look so beautiful Mrs Morales." Frankie whispered as your head laid on his chest,

"Thank you Mr Morales, you look just as handsome." You replied smiling. Your dress was beautiful, a sweetheart neckline and it hugged your body. Your hair was done up in a soft bun and you had a small flower crown with a small flower crown. When the first dance finished Frankie gave you a soft kiss and smiled at you.

Now though it was for the father daughter dance. But yours weren't here, and you could feel the sadness hit you slightly. However, just as you were about to sit down Santiago held your hand gently and led you to the dance floor.

"You'd think I'd leave you hanging doodles?" He asked smiling as the two of you danced,

"No." You replied smiling as you giggled when he pulled some ridiculous dance moves. The two of you danced for a bit and laughed, then one of the brothers tapped on Santi shoulder.

"May I have this dance?" Benny asked,

"Yes you may Ben." Santi smiled kissing your cheek. You started to dance with Benny and in the end you had danced with all of the boys.

The rest of evening went smoothly and it was a nice summers evening. You and Frankie stood outside, looking up at the stars.

"Thank you for today Frankie." You said quietly still looking up,

"It's alright baby, you know that." Frankie replied pulling you in for a deep kiss. You kissed back passionately and giggled. The two of you stayed there for a little longer and then went back in for the end of the reception.

[myownworstenemyyy]

from the writing prompts can I request #62. I want to protect you with Javi? please and thank you 😊

thanks for the request, love! i hope you enjoy 😊

prompt #62: “I want to protect you.” (from this list)

word count: 1.5k (sorry got a little carried away in the middle 😅)

warnings: angst / fluff (lemme know if i missed something)

ao3 | masterlist | moodboards | Particles by Nothing But Thieves inspired this one 💜

The incessant knocking on your apartment door pulls you from a restless sleep. Who the hell-? You roll over with a groan, looking towards your alarm clock, which blinks 3:14am with bright red light. 

With a frustrated sigh, you force yourself to get out of bed and walk the short distance to the front door while the knocking grows even louder. “Alright I’m up - Jesus,” you grumble as you undo the locks on the door and swing it open with a scowl, starting “What the hell is-” but you stop abruptly when you see it’s Javier. He has his hands propped up on either side of the door frame as he lifts his head to meet your sleepy stare.

His hair is disheveled like he’s been running his hands through it all day, and the bags under his eyes make him look a decade older than he is. You rub a fist against your eye, trying to clear the sleep from your vision as you mumble, “Javi - what’s wrong? It’s like 3 in the morning.” 

He doesn’t answer you right away as he stands there, gnawing his lower lip. After a beat he asks, “Can I come in?” a look of apprehension dawning his features. Stifling a yawn, you nod and open the door a little wider to let him pass. When he does, you’re engulfed by the faint smell of smoke, cologne, and something sweeter - something Javi.

Locking the door, you turn and make your way into the living room to find Javier sitting on the small couch, elbows resting on his knees while he holds his head in his hands. You sit down next to him, placing a hand on his knee as you whisper, “What’s going on, Javi? You’re scaring me.” With the dim light in the room, his crumpled form casts shadows onto the seat cushions - like that of a painting or some other form of art that captures all the beauty and tragedy radiating from his soul. 

He’s never looked more beautiful - or more pained. 

“I just - couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he says quietly as he stares at his hands resting in his lap. You place your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as you bring it to your lap and cover it with your other hand. “Javi, what’s this about? Please talk to me,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. 

The two of you have been toeing the line separating friendship and something - more - for a while now, the only forms of affection you’ve shared being holding hands while you watch TV together and the occasional forehead kiss as you part ways for the night. 

But it could never be more than that, with the dangers of Javi’s job and all. He’s never told you about any of the horrors he’s seen - afraid he might scare you away once you hear all the things he’s done, the people he’s hurt - but you know they’re there by the haunted look in his eyes after a particularly hard day. When he’s with you, though, he doesn’t want to think about any of it - all he wants is to forget every gory detail that’s burned into the forefront of his mind. 

He turns his head to look you in the eye, his own swimming with torment and longing. You brush his unkempt hair out of his face, offering him a small smile in the hopes of encouraging him to open up to you. As soon as your fingers graze his skin, he closes his eyes - like he’s savoring the way your skin feels against his - and he brings your conjoined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to each of your knuckles. 

“I can’t-” he releases a shaky breath, the warm air raising goosebumps on your arm. Swallowing hard, he opens his eyes with a furrowed brow, “I can’t do this anymore,” his voice is strained like he’s trying desperately to keep himself from falling apart.

Your heart starts to race and you bite your lip to keep from releasing a sob or a gasp or something that threatens to escape you. “Wh-what do you mean?” your voice sounds small as your eyes fly back and forth between his. 

“I - we can’t do this anymore - spend time together,” he explains, and he has to look away when the pleading look in your eyes becomes too much. Your shoulders fall and you look down at your hands, still holding his, “Did I - do something wrong?” you ask, wincing when he pulls his hand away from yours.

But then he’s bringing it to just below your chin, tilting your head up gently so you’re at eye level with his determined stare, “No,” he says firmly, “You did nothing wrong, mi amor,” his eyes widen a little as soon as the words pass through his lips.

You gasp and a blush slowly makes its way up your neck to your cheeks. He swallows again, nervously, and shakes his head, “It can’t happen - I won’t let it.” 

He rises to his feet and walks around the coffee table, putting a physical barrier between the two of you. You stand as well, your heart cracking slightly when his words register. It can’t happen - we can’t happen.

“Why not?” you find yourself asking as a seemingly irrational sense of rejection settles in the pit of your stomach. Crossing your arms over your chest, you become painfully aware of how exposed you are when his eyes trail up your bare legs, absentmindedly licking his lips when he meets your eyes. You raise your eyebrows expectantly, are you gonna give me an explanation or just stare at me like a dumbfounded idiot?

He clears his throat, running his fingers through his hair as he curses to himself, “Because you shouldn’t be with me - you shouldn’t want to be with someone like me.” Furrowing his brow, he shakes his head to himself like he’s trying to think of a better way to say what he means.

“Why not?” you ask again, frustrated and feeling like a petulant child. Your finger taps against your forearm as you wait for the most stubborn man in the world to elaborate on his words.

“I’m just - no good for you, OK?” his voice grows louder and he barely spares you a glance as he comes to a halt, mimicking your stance. 

No good for you? He’s the best thing that’s happened to you, and the closest friend you’ve had for as long as you can remember. “Why not, Javi?” you walk around the table until you’re just a couple steps away from him. Your blood is simmering and if he doesn’t tell you the real reason why he wants to just cut you out of his life, you might just boil over - or evaporate into nothing. 

“Because-” he struggles to find the words - like he knows what he wants to say, but he’s not sure if he should. But you’re not having any of it, so you take another step towards him, placing your hands on your hips as you demand, “Why the hell not?”

Something in him snaps and he grabs your shoulders, practically shouting at you, “Because you’re everything to me!” His wild eyes soften slightly as he continues, “Because I want to protect you from all the bad shit in my life and–,” he releases his hold on you and runs a hand down his tired face, mumbling, “protect you from me.” 

A tear rolls down your cheek but you don’t bother wiping it away as you bring your hands to his face, forcing him to look at you, “Javi,” your voice cracks subtly while your chest rises and falls in a rapid tempo. 

He places a hand over yours and his molten eyes fall to your lips. “Y/N,” is all he says before you’re crashing your lips against his, gasping at the surge of electricity that pulses in your veins from finally feeling his mouth on yours. He pulls you closer, moaning when you stroke his tongue with your own. 

The kiss is pure passion laced with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter, and you wonder how you ever lived this long without knowing the softness of his lips and the warmth of his touch. It’s a small dose of heaven - at least you’d hope heaven would be half as sweet as this exact moment.

But then Javi pulls away from you, his breathing ragged as his dark eyes search yours. Shaking his head, he admits, “I don’t wanna lose you - I can’t,” and for the first time since he entered your apartment, you notice the fear in his eyes - it’s a look that makes your chest feel heavy, like whatever burden he’s carrying is becoming yours as well.

“You won’t lose me, Javi. I–” a smile slowly forms on your lips, “I love you.”

A look of astonishment and relief takes over his features as he cradles your face in his hands, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that’s so soft and warm, it’s a miracle you’re still standing with how weak your knees feel.     

He rests his forehead against yours, his thumb stroking your cheek and his eyes gazing into your very soul as he whispers, “Te amo con todo mi vida.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Translations:

mi amor - my love

Te amo con todo mi vida - i love you with all my life

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hopefully this makes up for the “don’t leave me” request 😅💜

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