#im around others it's like static in the back of my head. like a tension waiting to snap the second im alone again. like holding my breath

[lepidopterium]

-

[lilacargent]

Here we go again,

Puzzles/ jigsaws would confuse Aliens so much

Set on the serpentine, beginning of the humans tenure

Important crew:

Primoz, captain -Limoyh a four armed species-Krag, second in command (brother of Primoz)

Kit, dokter -avian, bird like, she has feathers like a swallow-

Ortez, ASR (all species resources, human resources in space) -kiltak, insectoid species, think ants but exoskeleton-

Lugea, helmsperson (does the steering) -rock like alien-

Artex, engineer/mechanic 1 -also Kiltak-

And then our humans:

Kamari, navigator -Eritrean woman- (has cat named Sidra)

Markus, weapons expert (knows how to use them and upkeep, also shields) -Swedish man-

Petrus, mechanic/engineer 2 - Italian man-

Lilly, administrator/note keeper (learns languages for fun)-english woman-

~~~~~~~

Puzzles

The serpentine is on route between trading posts, this is currently the furthest route without proper jump point because of the static energy surrounding the dual planets castor and pollux.

Primoz is getting worried. The humans are becoming increasingly more jittery and Kamari looks like she a pinch away from punch someone, Markus has been ‘humming’ a song that annoys her greatly. Honestly the noises the tall man is making don’t seem that bad but every few minutes her eyebrows twitch which Ortez told him is a sign of frustration.

Before the captain can figure out how to keep them from doing something deathworld worthy, Lilly comes in with precariously stacked carton boxes and Petrus carrying a table. Setting the pile down the smallest human straightens out “look what i brought! Old earth puzzles! This one has a deer and this one has the old world wonders” immediately the humming stops and Markus is at the table with Petrus “oh yes Lilly you are the best! I wanna do the deer one, that is gonna be a challenge”

With the table in the corner of the bridge the tension among crew is nearly gone, as all species try to put the cut apart pictures together, Lilly brought 9 puzzles and at a certain point a competition was forming: after one of the human unit had finished a puzzle the other crew try to make it in less time. They have yet to win.

Looking at his relaxed crew Primoz grins at his brother who is trying to use all his four arms to put pieces together without much succes. Turning away from the competition he taps Lilly on her shoulder “how do you guys do it? Also why did you think to take these things with you.” Lilly looks up from her drawing (the crew bent over the table making the puzzle) “well i knew it was going to be a long trip, Kamari thinks Markus will be ‘professional’ but he can’t help himself” her soft smile when she puts air punctuation around professional makes her look much younger than she is “puzzles are something many humans enjoy, not everyone is as good at them as Markus, but he does this thing where he uses the shape of them more than colours. While he isn’t colour blind, he has real trouble with telling differences in shades. No idea why it works this well but it does, Petrus has already won three nights of free drinking on Castor from betting.” All of a sudden looking bashful Lilly ducks her head “ah eh yes sorry forget i said that we don’t bet on this at all!” Primoz just grins “nobody has broken anything this whole trip, im not going to disrupt the flow you and your unit created. Don’t worry.”

At arrival Petrus has won the whole human crew free drinks for the foreseeable future, and the crew in its entirety hooked on puzzles. While not all species see the colours the same way or understand the patterning in the pieces the feeling of putting in the correct pieces makes it such an enjoyable activity that Lilly brings new puzzles after every holiday back home.

~~~~~~~~~

This one was born out of the confusion my family had when we were making puzzles (jigsaws?) the pictures in pieces… this is where it becomes super clear English is not my first language. Anyway, we had two puzzles out and they were so surprised i could differentiate the positions the pieces needed to be in without context. I had to tell them that the pattern otherwise won’t make sense,

I have the same thing as Markus that colours are fine unless you put several of the same colours next to each other and call them different. This is why the deer one is super hard,

The two puzzles that were described:

[sagendipity]

reminder i'm sage i used to be notplanningshit until i accidentally deleted my blog so now im reposting my works!

info: quackity x reader, gn!reader, hurt/comfort, no warnings

on frizzy hair and the pursuit of perfection

Intellectually, in the rational side of your brain, you know that what you’re feeling is stupid.

You see the Instagram posts talking about the importance of self-affirmation and mental health. You see the tweets saying that people are more than their family’s perception of them. You realize that having a condescending and judgmental family is almost a right of passage for your generation.

These are all things you know, intellectually. But knowing something intellectually does jack shit for actually convincing your heart of whatever you know. You can yell at yourself all you want, but it’s clearly not your rational brain making you tear up at yet another text from your dad that was along the lines of “cool, could be better, though.”

You just want someone, just once, to celebrate an achievement with you. You want to be excited to share something with someone, without fear of them scoffing in the face of your pride and excitement. In your family- hell, in the world, certainly- someone has always done better, and you’re damn sure to be reminded of such.

It’s been years of this same behavior, ever since you can remember. It’s not just your dad, either, it’s your whole family- aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins. The whole town you grew up in had this haughty, arrogant air about it, where everyone was constantly competing, even if there was no reason for it. Take the hardest classes, get the least sleep, get the biggest scholarship. Even your friends would flex their better test scores at you, and refuse to help you with the homework, in case you somehow got a better score on a test than them. You know it’s how they were raised, they’re just a product of their environment and don’t know how bad it hurts, but it still stung then, and probably always will. You’re still in contact with a few of them, and it’s just more of the same whenever you exchange a handful of quick texts every couple months.

You know you should stop giving information about your achievements to them, but when your dad texts and asks how you are, there’s not much you can reply with other than “good, got a promotion at work!” From there, it’s a slippery slope of him asking what new benefits you got, and then the judgmental few moments where the gray dots disappear and reappear while he tries to compose his thoughts about your inadequacy in the least-abrasive way a middle-aged man can. That is to say, not un-abrasively at all. In fact, his words are often delivered with the finesse of low-grit sandpaper on soft wood.

Well, could be more. Work harder and maybe you’ll get an increase next month. I got a lot of bonuses at work when I was your age. All you have to do is take the bad shifts and get some good customer reviews. You’ll get there.

You stare at the fresh new message on your phone screen before clicking it off with a bone-deep sigh, your eyes betraying your rational side by, again, tearing up. You shove the heels of your hands into your eyes and rub until the tears are forced away and you see spots.

That’s how Alex finds you, sat on the foot of your shared bed with your hands rubbing fiercely at your eyes. He’s probably just come to grab a hoodie- the setting sun brings with it a cool breeze that washes through your open windows and cools the house from the warmth it’d gathered from the day’s sun.

“You good?” He asks, opening his closet door and pulling out a hoodie. He wrestles it on over his head as he waits for your response- when he pushes his head out the other end, hair mussed and static-y, you still haven’t answered. “Baby?”

He comes and sits down next to you. Your eyes, red-rimmed but still dry, track his movements before flicking to catalog every tuft of disheveled hair protruding from his head. With a superficial smile, you reach up to smooth his long, black locks back and down into place. It doesn’t matter; he’s going to slip on a beanie sooner or later, but for now, you distract yourself by combing gentle fingers through the soft strands.

“Not that I don’t appreciate this,” Alex murmurs, brown eyes searching your face for an answer to what has you upset. “But what’s wrong?”

“Just my dad,” you whisper, not trusting your voice not to crack. You avoid his gaze, keeping your eyes fixed stubbornly on his hair as you finish your work. “There. You looked like a hedgehog.”

He huffs a little laugh, but scoots closer to you and grabs a hand out of your lap- you’d curled your hands into tight fists, your nails digging little red crescents into your palm. He uncurls the hand he’s holding and reaches for the other, but you save him the work by instead grabbing onto your own thigh tightly, redirecting the frustration. He rubs small circles into the aching skin of your other palm while he waits for you to gather yourself and explain, now that the ice has been broken on the topic.

“He always acts like whatever I do is just not quite good enough for him. They all do- him, my mom, even my fucking friends.” You rub your free hand down your face, trying to alleviate some tension. It does not work. “I don’t know why I’m still upset. They’ve been doing it forever.”

“That’s probably why you’re still upset. You hope they’d grown up enough to stop doing that.” Alex presses his thumb into the center of your palm. It grounds you, and you swallow around the lump in your throat.

“It’s not even a matter of immaturity- it’s not as simple as a pissing contest. It’s just who they are. They don’t think perfection exists, but they want me to achieve it anyways.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. That sounds exhausting.”

He sounds so sincere, so genuine, like the idea of you being treated this way is deeply upsetting to him. You’d never really… experienced that. Someone recognizing your struggle, and admitting that it must fucking suck is something you’d never been graced with.

His brow is furrowed in a display of concern, eyes gentle and searching. He’s not lying, he means what he said, and he’s not going to follow it up with a “but-,”.

Eyes beginning to sting again, you lean forward until you’re resting your forehead on his shoulder. The soft fabric of his hoodie immediately calms you, along with the warmth you can feel emanating from him. It makes sense, after all, that the personification of pure sunshine would have such warmth about them.

Alex scoots forward, gathering you more closely in his arms, his legs awkwardly folded so that you can sit right in front of him. His hands come up to hold you, one fisting in the fabric of your sweatshirt, and the other resting on the back of your neck, gentle, but firm. You let out a shuddering breath, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. Not going to cry.

“I got a promotion at work,” you mutter, taking a long, deep breath. You brace yourself, waiting for a dismissive response. “That’s what set my dad off- I got- he-.”

Your voice cracks, and you trail off with a small sigh, clutching at Alex’s hoodie even tighter. It’s thick and soft under your fingers, and you knead at it like a cat.

“A promotion?! Baby, that’s amazing!” Alex pulls back just enough to take a glance at you, his own expression steeling from excitement back to sadness as he sees that you are still fighting back tears. “Sweetheart, I think you’re the only person to ever cry after getting a promotion.”

A little laugh escapes your chest, huffy and wet, but still a laugh. Alex’s lips curl into a smile as he reaches up to smooth back some of your stray hairs, like you’d done for him a moment or two ago. You smile, reaching up to intercept his hand, and lace the two of you’s fingers together.

He squeezes your hand where it’s resting in his grip, looking at your linked fingers briefly. “Also, your family is wrong.”

“About what specifically?” You huff, wiping at your eyes for hopefully the final time.

“About perfection not existing. It does, and I know exactly what it looks like.” Despite the serious words, Alex is fighting back a smile. You narrow your eyes at him, already anticipating the next thing he’s going to say. “It looks like you, dumbass.”

You groan, feeling a hot blush rise to your cheeks immediately. You tip forward to bury yourself in Alex’s neck, this time hiding your flustered face and stupidly happy grin.

“I can feel your smile against my neck, you know.”

“Oh, fuck off-.”

With the hand that’s on the back of your neck, Alex coaxes you out of hiding just to press a kiss to your forehead. “Really. I am proud of you. I don’t want you to be afraid to tell me about your achievements because of what your family has done to you.”

“Okay,” you whisper again, voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

He hums in response, tilting his head and looking at you with what can only be described as pure fondness in his eyes. Then, he leans down to meet you for a delicate kiss, and your eyes finally stop stinging.

[og-danny-dorito]

Quick (detailed) Drabble on Matt murdock’s love for eating pussy?

UHM YES? i havent written for matt in so long so im glad this was here!! i kinda went haywire so im sorry for that, but the good news is that i’ll be trying to do more marvel-related content so i can try to get back on my feet with this shit again. nsfw under the cut!!

⚠️𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬⚠️

- explicit sexual content

[𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞_________________________________________]

   To try to put into words how much Matt loves eating you out is nearly impossible. There are many things he likes to do to you, of course. Just barely grazing his hands over your skin and feeling you writhe beneath him for more is more than he could ever ask for. He could always tug gently at the base of your hair and listen as you whine for him. Or he could overstimulate you with your hands bound above your head by teasing you until you’re begging for more, god please more, just don’t stop-

   But nothing quite brings him the satisfaction of making you fall apart from the quick flicks of his tongue against your most sensitive spots. You can feel him smile as you hold back a moan from his gentle bites at the insides of your thighs, a punishing gesture you had come to learn. He whispers something soft to you but you can barely hear it over the static clouding your brain- maybe something along the lines of “If you keep quiet I won’t be able to go on, Y/n.” or “You know better than that, I have to know you want it.”, but you can’t make out the specifics.

But he already knows. He knows you like it.

   He knows how bothered it makes you when his hot breath fans over your clit, barely enough friction to satisfy the fire that’s been bubbling in the base of your stomach for... however long he had been holding you down here. His arms were wrapped around your thighs to keep you from moving too far from him, the chords of muscle flexing under sweat-coated skin as he leaned in to press more messy love bites on your legs.

   If your mind wasn’t so clouded by lust right now you would’ve been admiring him much more. He always loved it when you ran your hands over his shoulders and through his hair when you were getting intimate. You guessed it was grounding for him- affirmation maybe -sort of letting him know that you were there and close to him. Transparent, you’d have to call it. But right now was different. Much different.

   Right now your hands were bound above your head, your wrists bound in a soft silk material that wouldn’t hurt you too badly if you chose to struggle away from his grasp. Not that you could, though. Or wanted to for that matter. It must’ve been an hour he had been attached to that delicate place between your legs, abusing it with his tongue and lips and teeth and making you feel more helpless than you ever had before.

   It seemed that whenever he got the chance his head was in between your legs, sucking away at your clit and gently fucking you with his tongue like his life depended on it. It didn’t matter what kind of day he had, Matt Murdock ate you out like a man starved whenever he got the chance. You’re pretty sure that if you asked nicely he’d eat you out in a public bathroom just because he loved doing it that much.

   His tongue swirled around that sensitive bundle of nerves just as your eyes were starting to cloud over, the overstimulation and upcoming orgasm making you barely able to keep your eyes open. But he would always wake you up it seemed, your eyes shooting open as he hummed around you. You could feel yourself letting out those involuntary sounds again, your mouth seeming to betray you as you begged for him to go slower, not so hard, 'm gonna cum again-.

   But, fitting to his “professional” title, he didn’t heed your warnings. His tongue was speeding up by now, flicking over the bundle of nerves as if his life depended on it as his hands tightened around your legs and pulled you closer to his mouth. Your back arched into the sheets as you threw your head back, your hips jerking involuntarily with each iteration of his torturous tongue against your sex.

   It didn’t take you long to reach the euphoria you had so eagerly waited for, cries of his name falling from your lips as he worked you through your high with desperation in his movements. He licked up every drop of your cream like a man starved, his tongue seeming to glide from top to bottom as lewd sounds filled the room once again: now with a feverous intensity that you had almost forgotten about.

   Thank God you had him here to remind you, right? He found himself smiling as he licked you clean, his eyes blankly staring forward. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see, to be honest. You felt him looking at you even without the use of his eyes. It was in the way his hands trailed from around your thighs to the soft flesh of your stomach, gliding up the skin of your torso to rest on your chest that let you know he was watching in some way or the other; hw was paying attention.

   The fact that you were panting made his grin grow even wider, leading to him moving from his spot to sit on his knees. The stubble on his chin brushed the inside of your thigh as he moved up, making your whole body jolt as an involuntary whimper left your throat at the sudden friction.

   By now you were fully aware of you surroundings, your eyes seeming to roam over his body. He looked... desperate. His breath was quick from having to hold it for so long, ragged breaths coming out as deep and reverberating in his chest. You could see the way his eyebrows knotted together and his eyes clenched shut as he tried to control himself a little bit. You could see him leaking through the fabric of his grey briefs- wait -had he not even taken them off?

   It was only when he opened his eyes did you come to your senses again, your eyes flicking up to catch his blank gaze as he ran his hands over your hips, gently caressing the skin there. Permission- he was asking permission. “I want you, Matt.”, you said softly, your voice breathless. You felt almost as if you could sense the tension in his body leaving, his free hand moving to release himself from his underwear.

   He found himself cursing as he sunk inside you, eyebrows knitting together and teeth baring themselves as he let out a hiss of pain and satisfaction. Words of thanks tumbled from his lips as he began to move, the bed below you shaking as you gripped onto the fabric holding you down.

It was going to be a long night.

[ ~𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!~ ]

[sailorhyunjinz]

~ High on hatred ~

Warnings: SMUT, college!au, stoner!jisung, fem!reader, goodstudent x badstudent, illegal substances, fingering, blowjob, aggressivity(?), choking, hairpulling, penetrative sex (stay safe :c), nicknames (babygirl, slut..), hickies, cuddles!

Word count: 3,134 words (ok cherry slow down ffs) 

Requested: yesyes~ thank u anon for requestiiing cc:

Note: ok huge note here! i literally know nothing about drugs/illegal substances (or even legal substances for maybe except my raging caffeine addiction)  (where im from most substances are illegal heh) so please understand if this shits written like shit) also bad boys x good girls is my WEAKNESS since i always want some “bad boy” to wreck my good girl agenda hahahsh 

Jisung wasn’t the most outstanding student in college but somehow you ended up being partners for a group project. The quiet straight A kid with the failing stoner, you could already imagine how this would go. You sat next to him in the lecture hall after your professor had announced the pairs and dreaded introducting yourself but your parents raised you with the belief that kindness comes first so you took a deep breath and said: 

“Hi! I’m y/n” you smiled at him. His gaze met yours, those dark brown eyes were somewhat bloodshot and his aura reeked of smoke. 

“Sup, Jisung” he waved with his thumb, pointer- and middle finger lazily towards you as his gaze scanned your body. You felt a bit uncomfortable by his predatory stare so you shifted in your seat, adjusting the white flowy skirt you had on. 

“Ehm.. so.. how do you want to structure up the project? I was thinking that we could divide the parts by-” you were stopped by his scoff. You looked at him in confusion. This would be much more difficult than you anticipated.

“Come over to my house tonight babygirl” his corny smirk and raspy voice made you want to punch him. Taken aback you turned your head slightly as you said; 

“What? So I can be another one of the girls you fuck?” your blood was boiling. Who does he think he is with his snapback and  dangly silver earrings? 

“Chill, I was thinking about working on the project but you seem to have other plans in mind with me” he smirked, still observing you. 

Your face turned beet red and Jisungs cocky attitude did not help in the slightest. 

“I.. I d-didn’t mean that..” you stuttered but you decided to shut up to not make the situation worse. Jisung reached for the post-it notes that were by your side and wrote something down. He teared it off the pad and just as you stood up, hoping to walk away and never see him again you heard him say;

“Babygirl, come at 7″ he stretched out his arm, hand holding the note. 

You grabbed it aggressively and stomped off as you heard him yell “Come safely babygirl” 

♡ 

On your way home you crumbled up the note and stuffed it in your pocket. You had no intention of meeting him but when you arrived home you reached for the pink note in your pocket as you took off your backpack and sat down in the kitchen. The pink note had his adress on it. The urge to just scream and rip up the note was strong but something stopped you and that was the fact that you needed to get this project done. You were not going to fail because of some stoner. You unpacked your bag and started studying on some of your other courses but the note always lurked in the corner of your eye. 

Hours later you stood infront of your mirror putting different shirts on hangers against your torso, comparing the colors. Being preoccupied with choosing the cutest shirt you didn’t notice the fact that you tried to look your best for Jisung. Eventually you snapped out of your good girl side that always wanted to look presentable. Why do I care about what he thinks of me? You rolled your eyes and put the shirts back into your closet as you took out a sweatshirt and a matching pair of sweatpants. “This will do” you said under your breath as you slipped into the comfortable fabric before you ordered a taxi. 

“Shit better be worth it” you sighed as you clicked “proceed” and saw the sum. You packed your bag with the necessary stationary, threw on a fluffy ivory jacket and grabbed the keys with a jingle. 

You greeted the taxi driver whose taxi stood infront of the apartment complex. Before you headed out you managed to grab the pink note and now showed it to the driver that nodded whilst the soft radio static played in the background. The town looked so peaceful in the evenings, the artificial lights from the thousands of offices reflected in your glistening eyes as you looked out the window. You noticed that your shoulders were tense signaling that you were nervous which was dumb. Why would you be nervous to meet a dirtbag that has the right to call you ‘babygirl’? A shudder cascaded down your spine at the though of that awful nickname, especially when it echoed in your head in Jisungs voice. 

The taxi halted infront of a long block of brick apartment complexes, the nightlife being busy as usual in the big city you resided. A small “thank you” slipped out of your tongue before you opened the car door and were met by the cold breeze. The entrence had grand glas and wood double doors which opened with a loud creek. You looked at the note once again, checking what apartment number the boy lived in. ���248″ you muttered as you made your way up the stone staircase. “Found it”, you stood infront of the slightly bashed ivy colored door. Your hesitant fist made it’s way to knock on the door and after 5 nervewracking seconds the tall, slim boy opened the door with a joint between his lips. Smoke was emitting from behind him and the organic scent hit your nostrils. 

“You came babygirl” he leaned against the door frame as he drew in the smoke from the joint and blew it towards you. You coughed and waved your hand infront of your nose, clearing the smoke. 

“What you standing for? Come in” he snapped his head backwards as a sign for you to step in. You looked down and entered the small smoke-filled apartment. He went to his room and you followed behind with small steps observing the disorganised living space that was cluttered with takeout boxes and photos of friends. His room wasn’t any better. Piles of laundry sat everywhere in the small room and the bed wasn’t made. Did he seriously think that the two of you could do the project when there was a mess wherever you looked? He kicked a pile of clothes away from the carpet and threw a cushion from the bed towards you. He sat down on the carpet as he drew in another breath of smoke into his lungs. Reluctantly you sat down on the cushion opposite to Jisung that was dressed in a boxy white t-shirt and black basketball shorts. 

The big bunch of papers that were required for the project came out of your backpack that was sitting beside you. You spread out the papers on the carpet to make sure Jisung could see but he didn’t seem interested. Instead he kept on smoking as he stared at you intentively, that preditory gaze of his returning. As you were about to start talking about the ideas you had he stretched out his hand offering you a puff. You furrowed your eyebrows as a response to his action. 

“No thanks, I don’t do... that..” you said whilst shaking your head gently. 

That teeth-gritting smirk was plastered on his face as he said:

“You sure babygirl? It will help you relax” he heightened his eyebrows at you. 

Normally you would be very stubborn. You never let anyone do something to you that you didn’t like but in that moment you were swooned by his presence. Was it your feelings or the smoke that you had been breathing in? Without thinking twice you grabbed the joint from his hand to which he licked his lips, grinning.

You put it against your lips and puffed deeply, tasting the smoke in your mouth and feeling it spread in your lungs. A loud cough startled Jisung a bit and you passed the joint back to the brown haired boy. Instantly he looked thousands times more attractive. ‘I must be crazy’ you though as you gently shook your head and tried to concentrate at the papers laid out infront of you. In your peripheral view you saw Jisung shift closer to you and you lifted your head up to look at him. There was something intoxicating about him. The way his brown locks hanged over his eyes or how his piercings shined in the light from outside or maybe it was that veiny hand that held the flaming joint. Whatever it was you found yourself leaning closer to him. Just as he hit the joint again, the smoke spreading in his mouth, you attached your light pink lips onto his plump ones. Jisung opened his mouth in the kiss, crashing his tongue on yours which made the smoke enter your mouth. Being to caught up in the moment Jisung put out the joint on the dark wood flooring which probably was a huge fire hazard but did either of you care in the moment? No. 

The kiss was passionate coming from the tremendous amount of sexual tension in the air. Jisung veiny hand cupped your blushing cheek for a second before it snaked around the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into the wet sloppy kiss. You broke the kiss for a moment to stand up and Jisung did the same but only for a moment as you were pushed down against the unmade bed. It smelled just like him. The substances he was smoking accentuated his natural smell because of course it wasn’t just weed but tobacco as well. You remembered the countless times he had been smoking a cigarette with his friends outside the college department and the momentary eye contact the two of you made before you hurried off to your other classes. It always seemed like his gaze lingered on you even as you walked away. 

You landed with your hands beside your head. As Jisung hovered above you he held both of your hands in his, pinning you to the bed. The wet patch in your panties was growing simply by seeing him on top of you. He leaned down to kiss you once again, biting so hard on your bottom lip that it almost drew blood. The two tongues fought for dominance but the second his hand crept underneath your sweatshirt you lost, a low whine escape your mouth in defeat. Your heads twisted as the makeout session got a slow but steady pace. His hand was warm but more substantial than you though against your boobs which he squeezed harshly through your white bra. Involuntarily your hand grabs a fist of his hair making him smirk against the kiss.

“Desperate babygirl?” he coaxes you. 

“Desperate to get this over with so we can work on the project” you answer inbetween kisses.

“I think you have a much bigger problem to worry about” he growled and looked down for a split second.

As if the smoke wasn’t enough this just added fuel to the fire, both to the deep red color your cheeks were stained with and the wetness in your panties. His clothes were off in a blink and before you knew it he was pulling away yours as well, leaving you with nothing but your slightly embarrassing pink panties that were decorated with a small animal print. 

“Aren’t you adorable?” he cooed at you as his hand trailed down your torso and plummeted into your panties. 

“Shut up-ahh” your attempt of trying to bring his cocky attitude failed once again when he brutally entered two fingers into your sopping cunt. You couldn’t help but to moan as he started to pump his digits inside of you obviously enjoying the sight of the good girl being demolished beneath his touch. When he started to circle your clit with his thumb you held on to his wrist, digging your nails into his skin in order to stop a loud moan. Jisungs fingertips grazed your g-spot and by this point your small whines turned into breathy moans. 

“I though you didn’t like me?” he said arrogantly.

“I don’t” you tried to keep your composure even though his fingers felt so good inside of you. 

“Judging by your wet cunt you seem to like me very much, babygirl” he said while grabbing a fistful of your hair. You couldn’t argue because if you really hated him why were you so desperate to have his length inside of you? 

Jisungs fingers pulled out of you, your juices covered his digits and as his fingers got closer to your face you opened your mouth and sucked them clean. He harshly pulls you up by your hair, now sitting on the edge of the bed as Jisung stands infront of you. His dick had both girth and length which made your mouth water by just the sight. The red tip was decorated with a bead of precum and as he still held your hair he put the tip against your lips. Instantly you started sucking him off. First you kitten licked the tip of his immense dick being a bit afraid of his size but Jisung got impatient and yanked you by your hair once again, making you take him fully in your mouth and choking. Your eyes burned as they teared up but that didn’t stop you from sucking him off, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head profusely. He didn’t seem too impressed though. 

“I think I found one thing babygirl can’t do. Sucking dick” he grinned as he looked you deep in the eyes for a second before he bucked his hips into your mouth and facefucked you. His length hit the back of your throat everytime he fucked into you but you were to busy looking at his perfect face. Those sinful grunts that came out from his mouth made you rub your thighs in desperation. How could someone you hated look so ethereal with his dick in your mouth? The way sweat beads formed around his temple and coated a couple of those light brown streaks. The way his big hand held your hair tightly and most importantly those sounds. Those lewd sounds that rolled off his tongue. 

He rolled his head back and then looked back at you, catching you staring at him. 

“No I definitely think babygirl likes me. Those loving eyes don’t lie” he uttered, staring at you and stroking a piece of your hair behind your ear. 

As he pulled out you caught your breath and coughed a for bit before you scooted back on the bed, dragging Jisung by his hand which landed him on top of you once again. He seperated your legs with his knee and lined himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing into you. His girth with the slow movement made you roll your eyes back, the feeling of being filled made you content. 

“Fuck...you feel so tight” he said, brows furrowed as he started to slowly push in and out of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him into a kiss to muffle your moans. The pace steadily increased as you bit his bottom lip while kissing, returning the favor from before that contributed to your swollen lips. When the kiss broke a string of spit seperated your lips as the both of you panted from the thrusts that were becoming more aggressive. You moaned as you gripped onto the bedsheets upon which your knuckles whitened. Jisungs noises turned you on crazily but when he snaked his hand around your neck you could only whine in response. He choked you and held you pinned down stopping you from squirming away.  The other hand was circling your clit which only heightened the pleasure, eyes rolling back into your skull. A squeak erupted from the bed everytime Jisung pounded into your soaked cunt but that wasn’t the only sound. The both of you moaned in unison which fit the sound of skin slapping that was filling the room. You tightly shut your eyes trying to silence a moan but opened them soon after, meeting Jisungs brown orbs. His lids were low from the blunt smoke but that only gave his arrogant attitude a boost. 

You could feel that he was near by the way his dick twitched inside of you. Feeling cocky you decided to clench against his length which also pushed you closer to your own release. He was clearly getting pissed and leaned down to your neck, sucking purple marks onto it which would be impossible to cover up. You whined and squirmed as you needed to go to school tomorrow and couldn’t bear the strange looks from others when your neck was covered in bruises. 

“That’s what you get for clenching around me like a little slut” he growled against your neck as you clenched around him once again earning a moan from him. Now he was getting really close and so were you. His thrusts got harder but sloppier, your boobs bouncing with the pace. You clenched around him one last time and that was the trigger for Jisungs release. The vein on his neck popped up to the surface as his jaw hanged open. Your cunt filled with his warm load which made you cum grip tightly on anything beside you. The both of you rode out the orgasm which made your legs shake and spine bend up from the mattress. Eventually Jisung pulled out leaving you feeling empty with his white cum dripping out of your hole. He layed beside you and panted, chest heaving. You layed there in silence for a minute, only the sound of heavy breathing could be heard in the dark evening. Deciding to clean up the mess he had made you stood up causing the cum to leak down your unstable leg but before you could take a step Jisung grabbed your soft hand and pulled you down onto the bed again. You looked at him in confusion. 

“You weren’t planning on leaving me without any cuddles?” he said with a slightly whining voice.  

You couldn’t believe what you heard. Before another thought could cross your mind you were already snuggled up in his arms, your head against his heaving chest. It was cozy and you felt safe despite that you barely knew him. You stroked his cheek gently as you observed his perfect facial features. Sure, his attitude could use some work but his face had a flawless charm. 

“We should study more often” he muttered against your hair as he kissed you on your head. 

Even if the caring boy was high off his rockers your heart fluttered at his words. You blushed as you snuggled closer to his chest, falling sound asleep in his grasp. 

[lxngbottom]

Mistakes That Last Forever. | N.L. (Part 2)

in which neville tries to get his life back.

warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing (lmk if there are more!)

im crying over this fic PLS

(PART 1)

—

the shower felt wonderful as it collided with your skin. the stress that had been building up from the past week due to seeing neville, and work, was seemingly all being washed away. you could hear neville jr in the living room, muttering small scenarios as he used his imagination to play with his toys.

but, the small peace that your house held was soon disturbed by your house phone ringing. you sighed, hoping that it wasn’t your boss demanding at you turn in that article draft you had promised him.

“mummy! the phone is ringing!” your son called out, and you could hear that he had ran to the bathroom door in order to inform you.

“um—i know!” you replied, “can you be a big boy and answer it for me? just like we talked about?! ask to take a message, okay?”

“okay!”

you heard his hurried footsteps exit the hallway, and you continued your now, limited shower as quickly as you could.

neville jr reached up and picked up the phone, putting it to his ear in excitement. this was the first time you let him use the adult phone, and he couldn’t be more thrilled,

“uh... hello? longbottom—well... y/l/n residence!”

he made an odd face as he realized he has already messed up what you told him to say if someone had ever called.

the person on the other line smiled to himself, hearing that small, fragile voice. he sounded just like he used to when he was younger.

“hi... is your mum there?” neville asked awkwardly, shifting awkwardly in his seat as the realization that he was talking to his son was hitting him.

neville jr crooked his lips as he looked down the hall, “um... she’s in the shower...” he began to try and remember what you had told him to say, “uh—um... merlin... oh!” he finally remembered. “can i take a message for you?”

the boy had such a sweet voice. he was filled with such innocence. the shame of missing out on his son growing up had already hit neville, and he had been in a big slum for the last week due to that.

“yes... can you tell her that neville called? it’s important that she knows...”

neville jr then furrowed his eyebrows, “hey! that’s my name!” he snapped, “i didn’t call my own house!”

neville on the other line chuckled at the boy’s obliviousness, “no! that’s my name, too, lad. i’m—uh... your—“

just as he was about to tell his son the truth, you came stomping out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body, and your hair as well. you ran over to your son, who was still holding the phone.

“who is it?” you asked, already grabbing the phone from his grasp,

“uh... neville? he has the same name as i do, mum!”

your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach, and you tried to play it off by sending your son a small smile.

“that’s... nice, sweetheart. but... go play for a few minutes, okay?”

the boy nodded his head, and went right back to the center of the living room, and continued to play with his cars. you glanced over at him, putting the phone up to your ear, hands shaky from anxiety.

“hello?” you started, looking down awkwardly at the numbers on the phone.

“oh... hey, y/n.”

yep. it was neville.

“how did you get my number, longbottom?” you asked in a low whisper, glancing over at your son once more,

neville let out an awkward chuckle, “well... it’s not that hard to get into contact with the journalist of the daily prophet, y/n.” he teased slightly, maybe trying to lighten the mood, “i just need to talk to you.”

you sighed, gritting your teeth slightly, “about what, neville?”

“about... seeing him. seeing both of you. ever since i saw you both last week... i haven’t been sleeping, or eating... i want to make things right. i deserve that, y/n. i need to see my son...”

you knew it was coming, but, you had hoped it would at least be a few more years.

“neville—“

“y/n, i can’t keep doing this. i can’t keep walking throughout my life miserable. i know i’ve done awful things to you, and i know there is nothing in this world that i could possibly ever do to make it up to you. but, please... that’s my son. maybe this is my opportunity to do the right thing. an opportunity to get my life back...”

you huffed at his words, “you didn’t even know he existed until a week ago!”

“yeah, because you never told me! you know for a fact that if you would’ve told me the truth, that i would’ve been there for everything! there’s a lot i have to owe up to, but don’t forget that you lied to me! you kept me away from my son for his whole life because you were hurt over a mistake!”

“a mistake that you made, asshole!” you clapped back through teary eyes, “i figured... hey! maybe if neville wants to go back to being an immature teenager and cheat on me, then how in world would he ever be a good father?! i wasn’t even sure that you would even be committed to him, neville! because, you sure weren’t committed to me!”

the tension that radiated through the static on the phone was terrifying. the only thing that could be heard was your small sniffles, and neville’s agitated sighs on the other end. you were so hurt. you had always been so hurt due to what had happened.

“y/n...” neville sighed, “please. just let me make this right. let me make it up to you... and to him. please... i’ll do anything.”

you thought for a moment, considering all of the positives and the negatives of this whole situation. you knew he was right, he did deserve to see his son. but, you didn’t know if that would be the right thing for your son himself.

“fine...” you breathed, “you can come and see him. i’ll send you an owl, soon...”

neville had never felt more relieved.

“thank you. thank you, y/n. i promise i’ll—“

but, you cut him off by slamming the phone back onto the hook. your face fell into the palm of your hand as you let out a small sob, overwhelmed by the sudden old feelings that were rushing back into your veins.

“mummy...”

you didn’t look at him. you couldn’t look at him.

“you’re crying, mum. what’s wrong?” he asked, slowly walking over to you, “was it that man on the phone?”

you finally looked down at him, seeing the worried look etched across his round, chubby face. you crouched down to meet his height, reaching your hand up to caress his face gently. you had always done that, because it was something that you always did to neville when he was worried or sad.

“mummy’s alright, baby... she’s just stressed out. but... i need to talk to you about something, alright?”

that’s when his face became even more worried, “as i in trouble?”

you chuckled through your tears at your son’s overthinking, “no, no, of course not. it’s just... there’s something i haven’t told you...”

“what is it, mum?”

you sighed, finally ready to have the talk.

—

that morning had started off chaotic. it was a mix of you trying to get ready, neville rummaging through his closet in order to find the perfect outfit, as he was a big boy now, and he wanted to get ready all by himself.

“neville longbottom! have you brushed your teeth?!” you yelled from the living room, trying to pick up the small mess of toys that was spread throughout the floor.

neville in his room widened his eyes, realizing that he indeed had not brushed his teeth.

“i’m going to take that as a no!” you yelled, referring to the silence, “go and do it, please! he’ll be here at any minute!”

neville jr was probably just as nervous as you were, as he had subconsciously had always questioned where his father had been, but never asked. but ever since that long conversation the two of you had, he was finally ready to meet him. you on the other hand, felt as if you could throw up at any given moment.

you were only in your bra and underwear as you cleaned, trying your best not to mess up your applied makeup. you ran to your room after you were done, and started going through your closet. you and neville jr would always wake up late, as for some reason, you two loved getting your beauty sleep. the both of you were used to rushing through your shared home, getting ready while doing ten other things at the same time. time management was definitely something you needed to teach him, and maybe even teach yourself.

“mum! i can’t find my socks!” you heard your son call out, his voice shaky.

“um—check in your top drawer, sweetie! there should be a clean pair in there!” you yelled back, slipping on a sun dress and zipping it up in the back. you looked in the mirror, and noticed that you hadn’t even done your hair. it was still wet from the shower you had taken,

“fuck!” you groaned, running to your personal bathroom and grabbing your hairbrush.

“mum! that’s a bad word!”

“i’m sorry! i’m just really stressed out! are you almost ready?”

there was silence for a moment before he responded, “um... yeah?”

he wasn’t ready, of course.

you felt as if you could crack at any moment, but you were trying your best to hold back the tears. maybe this would’ve been a lot easier if you two had actually woken up when you were supposed to.

that’s when the doorbell rang, and your heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. you sighed, mentally preparing yourself as you grabbed your flats from your closet, and walked through the house to the front door.

when you arrived, you shakily unlocked it and opened the door.

that’s when you saw him. he held a small bouquet of flowers in one hand, and a small gift box in the other. he smiled at you, taking in how absolutely ravishing you looked.

“um—come in...” you told him, opening the door. he stepped in, and began to follow you through the house, leading to your living room. “just—ignore the mess, please! we woke up late, and i didn’t have time to clean the kitchen and—“

“hey, hey, hey...” he interrupted you, setting the items down on the couch. “it’s fine, y/n. i understand... no need to explain.”

you looked over at him, and for a moment, you began to get lost in his gentle eyes. neville had always been so patient with you. he never judged you, nor ever would judge you. he knew you from the inside out, and he could tell how stressed out you were in that moment.

“mummy!” you heard, and the two of you whipped your head around to see a struggling smaller neville, trying to get his sweater on over his jumper. you giggled as his head was getting stuck in the hole, “it won’t go on!” he huffed aggressively, his arms flailing around.

you walked over to him, and pulled the sweater vest down over his head easily. he looked at you for a moment, an appreciative smile on his face. but then, he caught a glance at the smiling man that stood just ways away from you. he hid behind your leg, still nervous out his mind.

“neville...” you muttered, trying to get him to not be so shy, “come on...”

he shook his head, now burying his face in the material of your dress.

you looked over at neville, who had a sad look on his face.

“he’s shy... but... he’ll come around.” you reassured the man.

of course he was shy. he was neville longbottom’s son for merlin’s sake.

neville wearily made his way over to the both of you, the gift box now in his hand. he crouched down by your knee, letting your cherry blossom lotion take over his senses.

“this—it’s for you...” he offered, holding the gift box up to the small boy. neville jr peeked his head around your leg, eyeing the color wrapped box. “go on... it’s yours...”

neville jr finally gave in, his childish mind not being to help itself as he reached out, and grabbed the box from his father’s hand. he slowly showed himself, ripping the wrapping up.

he squealed when he finally got it open.

“mum, look!” he held the toy up in his hand, “look how cool!”

you smiled down at your lovely son, “i see it, honey. what do you say?”

neville jr looked up at his dad, batting his eyelashes a few times.

“thank you...”

neville sent him a sweet smile,

“no problem...”

—

the day had been simple. you, neville, and neville jr did nothing but relax, play with toys, talk about your old days at hogwarts, ordered pizza for lunch, and you even made a nice dinner by the time the night had came along. it brought you a feeling of serenity, as this had always been your dream for you and neville.

“can i have a goodnight kiss?” you asked neville jr as you tucked him in. he nodded his head, and pecked your cheek, then settled back into his blanket.

“goodnight, mum...” he told you sweetly,

neville watched as you tucked your son in, glancing around the boy’s room every now and then. he had noticed how much of an amazing mother you were the whole day, but, he would’ve never expected less.

neville jr looked over at the tall man, hiding his face shyly.

“goodnight, daddy...”

the nickname made you look over at neville, who seemed to be in some sort of state of shock. but, he sent the boy a small smile.

“goodnight, nev. get some rest...”

you stood up from your son’s bed, and slowly made your way towards the door.

“will you still be here tomorrow when i wake up?”

the question made you and neville’s head turn, and you were still trying your best to hold it together.

neville wiped his nose awkwardly, “not sure about that one, lad. but, i’ll definitely see you in a couple of days. maybe... you can come to my house and meet my pets, huh? that sound good?”

the question seemed to be aimed towards your son, but just by looking at neville, he seemed to be asking the both of you.

“yeah... that sounds good...” neville jr replied, offering the both of you a weak yawn. he rubbed his eyes, and cuddled into his stuffed toad.

you smiled as you turned the light off, and neville stepped out of the room.

“goodnight, darling. i’ll see you in the morning.”

and with that, you closed his door softly, and began to walk back to the living room.

neville watched as you started to clean up, even at one point offering to help you.

“it’s fine...” you told him as he went to pick up a toy, “i don’t need your help...”

you hadn’t noticed it, but neville definitely had. you were now crying, tears streaming down your face as you continued to pick toys up, and set them into the box that sat beside you. the emotions from today were now taking an affect on you, and as much as you tried to ignore them, your body needed some sort of release.

“y/n...” neville muttered, and you looked over at him, breaking his heart when he saw your eyeliner smudging, “what’s wrong?”

you sighed as you picked the box up, and put it back in its place over the by the couch.

“nothing... just exhausted. i have to get something into my boss for work, and i just—“

“don’t lie to me.”

you furrowed your eyebrows at him, “i’m not—“

“yes, you are. i can tell.” he interjected, walking closer to you. “you can tell me... please tell me.”

you pondered for a moment, wondering if you should actually let the words slip your lips.

“it’s just—“ you began, trying to collect your thoughts. neville gazed at you intently, “it’s just hard seeing you. and... seeing you with him is even worse.”

“why?”

you bit down on your bottom lip, something you had always done when you were trying to hold back tears, “because... i suppose i just thought that—maybe... that would’ve been us. all these years... you would’ve done all the stuff you did with him today everyday. i had always dreamt of us having a family together... but... i just wasn’t good enough for you.”

neville’s breath hitched at your words. he felt his stomach churn with guilt, and sadness as well.

“y/n... you were more than good enough for me. i was just—a fucking git. i was so... stupid for what i did. and, i probably won’t ever be able to make it up to you...”

you chuckled nervously, “well... at least there’s a chance to make it up to him.”

he stepped even closer to you, only a small gap between your nervous bodies. he slowly reached his hand up, and wiped away the single tear that was treading down your cheek. he ran that same hand through your hair, that familiar feeling settling in, ever so present between you both.

“yeah... but something tells me that you want me to make it up to you, as well, y/n...”

his touch was so gracious. it felt so familiar, and you couldn’t help but to fall into it. his thumb caressed your skin, feeling all of the familiar bumps and roughness. he felt as if he collapse, as he was only just now realizing that he was finally touching you again.

“it doesn’t matter what i want, neville. that hasn’t mattered since i had our son. all that matters is him now.”

neville took a beat of silence before responding, his eyes trailing to your lips.

“it does matter.”

that’s when he planted his soft lips upon yours, relishing in the serenity of you.

it was a kiss that was long overdue. a kiss that said so much but nothing all at the same time. oh, how he missed you. and oh... how you missed him so much more.

when you two finally pulled away, his palm still rested against your cheek, and he admired you.

“i’m sorry for everything. but what i said was true... i want my life back. and y/n... you and neville are my life.”

[forthehpfanboys]

Gold Strings & Red Picks- PT 1

Pair: Ron Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: The Weasley's invented a band! Having a band, means you need a band manager; someone to help find venues, gigs and sponsors. After finding one, Ron seems to be hopeless drawn toward them.

Warnings: flirting, swearing, bickering, sexual tension??, Punk Pining Ron but also Smug Ron, naming a guitar ‘Cherry Popper’, dm me if I missed any.

Notes: I plan on having some chapters kinda spicy. I made an entire gif for this and yes it is Rupert playing 👀 and god is this self indulgent. Hope you guys like it!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWERE~

-

It was a Friday morning when you quit the Static Dragons and posted the news on every piece of social media you had. It didn’t take long for you to edit your bios to state you were looking for a new band, and it managed to catch someone's eye just as quickly. It was Monday evening when you got a dm on Instagram from a user called ddchrmrs-official. The user basically sent you a paragraph about how he was the lead singer of a band he and his siblings threw together and they were looking for a new manager. You agreed to meet with them and talk about the potential of the band and he agreed, using more than a few explanation marks after his reply. He even sent you a few of their songs once he deemed you worthy enough.

So, you found a dining hall, an equal distance from your house and theirs, and with the lead singer's approval, Fred, you booked it for Tuesday afternoon. Fred even made a post explaining the good news- why he was acting like one of the Weird Sisters followed him back, you weren’t sure. You couldn’t help but be excited too. The songs were good- more punk-rock than you assumed from the band's name. Something about the name Daydream Charmers gave off a softer, boyband type.

The day of the band meeting couldn’t have gone much worse. You missed your morning alarm, you couldn’t find your laptop charger and the clothes you picked out the night before ended up covered in stains from breakfast. GPS even gave you the fastest route and you still managed to be 10 minutes late, but you managed to find the right hall. It was a bit different compared to the pristine image shown on the website.

The roof looked like it was caving under an invisible weight and the actual size of the hall looked like a small barn. The walls were made of red and black bricks, most of which seemed to be chipped, broken or bending, like it was being crushed. The door frame was slanting, the door’s white paint was chipping, the sidewalk was splitting at almost every corner. You were desperately hoping the building was enchanted so it was bigger (and nicer looking) on the inside.

You parked your car on the pebble covered asphalt, right next to an equally old and rusty blue car. You had no idea how four people, a sound system, a bass, an electric guitar and a full drum set fit inside of the small wagon, but figured they managed to spell the inside bigger. You weren’t bothered by it- how could you be? You felt your wand hit your laptop inside the bag as you threw it over your shoulder after climbing out of the car. Shutting the door, you hurried up the broken concrete, shoving your keys in your pocket.

You chewed on your lip, adjusting the collar of your shirt as you approached the door. A smile pulled at your lips at the refreshing sound of genuine laughter and bickering. You had an internal battle of whether you should knock or just barge in. It sounded like they were having their fun and you didn’t want to interrupt anything. Soon enough, the laughter was dying down and someone was strumming a bass quietly, practicing a few chords from one of the songs Fred gave you. You raised a fist to knock on the door and the silence that followed was close to defining. Soft footsteps followed the silence and you swore you could hear soft breathing behind the door before it was yanked open.

“Hey! You made it! We were worried you got lost on your way here.”

You weren’t expecting to be face to chest with an individual. Their band's logo was printed across the front, red letters with a gold outline that clashed drastically with the bright orange fabric of the tight shirt. You tilted your head up, meeting cocoa brown eyes and a crisp white smile. His ginger hair was spread across his shoulders, his ear lobes were pierced with two shiny black flat stud earrings and the little white nostril piercing on the left side of his nose was reflecting the sunlight.

“Fred?” You asked, matching his smile. You could tell he had fun, you could sense it. His arm raised, inadvertently showing off his muscles, and rested against the door frame. 

“The one and only.” He grinned, clearly just joking. Before he could say anything else, he was rudely interrupted by a foreign voice behind him. Fred’s smile dropped into a frown like he was suddenly slapped across the face.

“Is it the pizza guy?” The voice asked from somewhere behind him, excitement clearer than crystal. Fred looked over his shoulder to respond.

“No, Ron. That’s not for another twelve minutes.” He rolled his eyes after looking back at you and letting out a loud sigh. “I’m sorry about him. His appetite is larger than Big Ben and it literally never stops. Anyway, I hope you like pizza! I tried to message you about it.” He pulled his phone out of his front pocket, unlocking it and scrolling through his messages and swiping right on notifications he didn’t care for.

“I was using my phone for GPS. Must’ve missed the messages.” Your hands slid into your front pockets, your weight shifting between your feet as embarrassment began to settle in. Maybe this wasn’t the best first impression. Before you could think about it too long, a low whistle was resonating from beside Fred.

Without warning, Fred was being nudged aside by a slightly shorter ginger, his piercing blue eyes staring into yours. They didn’t stay there very long though. They slowly dragged down your body, taking in your form, and his head tilted in appreciation.

“Oh.. I’m not gonna complain about the pizza when Merlin delivered us a cutie.” He gave you a dizzying side smile. “What’s your name, sweetheart? Surely, it’s something as handsome as you are.” Just as quickly as he appeared, Fred was pushing him back, faking a gag while driving the unnamed individual back with Fred’s hand against his forehead. 

“Ew! Ron, down! Seriously? Keep your yap shut! He’s our new band manager and I’d actually like to keep this one, thank you.” Fred groaned, a sneer pulling at his lips. He blocked the smaller ginger from the door with his body before turning back to you with a sigh. “I’m sorry. He’s usually not like this. Usually he’s moping about his ex-” You could see Ron jumping behind Fred to get another look at you. The reaction had you snorting into your hands.

“Fred. Fred, move, mate. I wanna see ‘im again!” The ginger whined, tugging at his older brother's t-shirt. He was dodging around Fred’s constant moving hands to get one more peek at you.

Fred let out a groan, his head falling backwards in agony before letting out a loud “George, please help!”

“Wait! Wait, wait!” Ron’s voice matched the panicked hand trying to hold onto the door frame before it was hilariously slapped off the wood and was dragged into the mystery hidden behind the lead singer. His begs and pleas began to echo and soften which you thought caused you to giggle a bit. 

“I’m sorry. We’ll put a muzzle on him or something. Come on in, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Fred shifted out of the door way, allowing you to enter the hall. It was bigger on the inside than the outside, that much had you relieved. Fred shut the door behind you with a satisfying click and let you soak the place in while he sat himself down on a velvet red coach. It was dimly lit, about half the lights were on, and the walls were painted a light tan, which easily could’ve been mistaken for white, if white wasn’t used for the tiling. 

Next to Fred on the couch, was a girl with long, slightly darker, ginger hair. Her hair went well past her shoulders, and a bright orange base sat on top of her crossed legs. She had gone back to laying a few chords once you entered, just relaxing as her two brothers basically wrestled each other.

“Ginny, this is (Y/n).” Fred spoke up, pointing from his sister to you, then back to her. (Y/n), this is the youngest Weasley in the family, Ginevra.” Fred smirked, but it turned into a pained expression when she landed a hard slap to his chest.

“Except if you call me that, I will break your legs. It’s Gin or Ginny, nothing else. It’s nice to finally meet you, (Y/n). Fred hasn’t shut up about you.” She smiled at you, reaching a tattoo covered hand out to shake yours. 

“Really?” You couldn’t help but grin. You shook her hand proudly, knowing it was probably your reputation that kept the oldest Weasley in the band chatting up a storm. “It’s nice to meet you too, Gin.” You gave her a cheeky grin before turning to the other side of the hall, noting another Fred standing in front of Ron, who was sitting in a chair quiet grumpily. 

The double picked up a deep red guitar covered in stickers and shoved it into Ron’s lap, causing the younger to gasp out a wheeze. It was obvious he had chewed Ron out for his behavior, but nevertheless, he gave his unplugged electric guitar a few strums, which seemed to satisfy Fred 2 because soon enough he was storming back to the couch, shaking his head the entire walk there.

He sat himself down on the arm of the couch, right next to his doppelganger. His arms crossed back over his chest once again. Fred 2 had the same length hair, different piercings though. He only had one set of black earrings, but had an industrial across his left ear. He had a straight line of freckles across his cheek bones and right across his nose. The spots went down his neck and across his forehead. 

“He’s bloody useless.” He grumbled out, his snake bite moving to the right as his tongue ran across it. “Oh, hi!” Fred 2 scooted over to the edge of the arm rest, reaching his hand out to shake yours. “You must be the band manager! I’m George, Fred’s twin bro-”

“Younger twin. I’m the oldest.” Fred interrupted, smirking again as he pointed a thumb to himself. His smirk dropped when he was smacked in the chest again- by both George and Ginny. 

“I’m his twin brother. Ignore him, he has a God complex.” George rolled his eyes, smiling at you while he shook your hand. He pulled his hand away before scooting back to rest his back against the back of the couch. You could tell he wasn’t comfortable, but  he seemed dedicated to the spot. “I’m sorry you had to meet Ron the way you did. Usually he’s tamer than that.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, your gaze turned down to your shoes. Your cheeks were beginning to heat up as his flirting rebounded through your head again.

“Nah, he wasn’t that bad.”

“I wasn’t?” Ron’s sudden voice behind you had nearly jumped out of your skin. You spun around, your backpack strings nearly catching on one of Ginny’s bass strings. You swallowed down a squeak. “Georgie was trying to convince me I was being inconsiderate and rude and that mum would smack me if she saw.” He was still holding the guitar by the neck, and that was when you noticed the bright gold strings with a red pick trapped between them.

“Well, it’s not like you were asking about my shoe size… “ Your eyes landed on the hands holding the black neck of the instrument and you couldn’t help but gawk at them. Rings covered his finger knuckles, veins popped out from beneath his skin. “Wow.” You didn’t mean to verbally gawk over the hands, so you had to force your gaze down to the instrument and ignore the urge to stare at the pale, freckle covered skin that was making your mouth dry. 

You shook your head, looking at the shiny strings. You had you stop yourself from reaching out and caressing the polished neck, the textures strings and hidden pick. It was clearly loved and carefully taken care of.

“Beauty, isn't she?” Ron grinned, showing off the red body drowning in decals- most of which were bright orange Quidditch themed or terrible chess puns. You almost forgot to check if they were a muggle band, but this told you enough. “My best friend got it for me, he’s a blessing. Mum didn’t approve, of course, said we all had better purposes, but dad said rock on.” 

“She really is. I’m guessing you named her?” The second the question fell from your lips, the three sharing a spot on the couch groaned in agony, but Ron was grinning in pride.

“Of course I have! Her name is Cherry Popper and she’s the love of my life. Unless,” Ron was taking a step closer to you, a twinkle in his eyes as he continued speaking, “you plan on cha-” His flirting was cut off suddenly.

“And that’s enough of that! Please sit down and, for the love of Merlin’s beard, rename the damn thing!” Ginny cried out, almost knocking her own instrument straight into the tiled floor. She ran a hand through her hair, her free hand holding the bass hard enough to make her knuckles pure white.

“I mean, come on! Name it something classic like ‘Bertha’ or ‘Jasmine’, or, and here’s my personal favorite, don’t name it at all!” Fred waved his hands while he spoke, counting the names on his fingers before doing jazz hands at ‘don’t name it at all’.

“Fred, that’s hypocritical. You named your mic.” George spoke up, pulling two white marble drumsticks from his jeans pockets and began to spin one between his fingers. 

“That was a joke.” Fred stuck his tongue out at his twin. “At least I don’t do it seriously. And leave Echo out of this.” Fred ripped the non spinning drumstick from George’s hand, holding it out of his twins reach.

“Shut up and give me Crystal back!”

“No, if you wanna talk about terrible names, we can talk about the band's name! Merlin, Fred, were you sky high when you made it?” Ron shot back, his arms crossing over his chest, one still holding the guitar.

Knowing this kind of fight could go for a good while, you slipped past him, patting Ron on the shoulder while you walked past while a pained gasp rented the silence that flooded the hall. You set your backpack on the white table, opening the zipper and pulling out your laptop. You sat down, pulling the laptop onto your lap before opening the notepad application.

“I made the name! And dammit, I think it was clever! It even has a unique backstory! At our school, we had a um- small business and it was quite successful. By ‘we’, I mean George and I and by successful, I mean we run an online joke shop. I thought it fit the shop pretty well.” Fred held a look of pride- a smirk was, once again, drawn across his lips as his eyes twinkled.

“Mate, it’s horrible.” Ginny spoke up, not even bothering to throw the truth as a curve-ball causing two of her older brothers to nod in agreement. She copied Fred’s movement by yanking the drumstick from his hand, but handed it to George, smiling at him. 

“Why couldn’t it have been something cool? You named your shop something cool. Why’d you give the band something’ shitty?” Ron rolled his eyes, leaning his back against the door, the guitar balancing on his sneakers and leaning against his ripped jean covered legs. His attention didn’t stay with his siblings for long. Soon it was shifting over to you, like he was naturally drawn toward you. He grinned at you, sticking his tongue out. The little gold ball stamped into the middle of his tongue had your full attention.

You swallowed thickly. The ball and his guitar strings were the exact same color and reflected the same light. You felt butterflies fill your stomach from the simple action and noticed, almost suddenly, the ginger was actually quite attractive and funny. You sucked on your tongue, hoping the blush across your cheeks didn’t give too much away. Ron looked back at his brothers, his side grin screaming he basically saw your body temperature rise.

“I was led to believe you all loved the name, but no! I’m starting to think you guys are just trying to embarrass me in front of the (Y/n), but since you think it’s so easy, come up with a new one.” Fred cried out, crossing his arms over the printed long sleeve t-shirt, and was pouting like a child now, sinking lower into the couch.

“It makes us sound like a cheesy boy-band going after 12 year olds.” Ginny scoffed, propping her bass up against the couch. She looked over at her slightly older brother, nodding her head in Fred’s direction.

“It does. We could’ve been Fire Wicks.” Ron pointed at Ginny and the teaming up began. “Or like Solar Skips.”

“Or The Red Bloods.” Gin nodded, pointing back at Ron while her other hand pulled out her phone. The game was ‘Who-Cares-If-It’s-Bad-Let’s-Prove-Fred-Wrong’ and you could tell it was for shits and giggles. You were going to pitch in an idea, but someone beat you to it.

“Or FireBolt Bitters.” Spoke up George, who was now gazing up at the ceiling, shaking his head in mock shame, but you could see the edges of his smile growing at the corners.

“Ooh, I love that one!” Ron leaned over, stretching his arm as far as it could to give  George a high five, before turning to look at you. He grinned at your confused expression. “Are you writing these down?” He pointed at your computer before giving you a wink. The butterflies came back, doubled in strength, and you couldn’t help but laugh. You shook your head no, laughing louder when he waved his hands in a panicked manner. “Write them down, mate!”

You rolled your eyes, typing random shit down just to please the younger one. Your eyes trailed across the dumplings, noting three quarters of them were smiling. Fred’s crabby expression made it was clear he didn’t get picked on very often.

“Charlie texted saying ‘The Copper Horntails’ would’ve been better.” Ginny said, looking up from her phone. She dropped the phone onto her lap, wincing a tad when the device collided with the instrument on her lap. She quickly forgot the pain and leaned back, enjoying her brother's pain.

“You asked Charlie?!” Fred squealed loudly, his hands holding his head. Right beside Fred, George had begun to tap his sticks together, improvising a beat to go with the arguing.

“You know what? That’s a great idea! Let’s ask Percy next-” yelled Ron over Ginny’s laughter and Fred’s agonizing scream. His smirk only grew when Fred tossed his head back. 

“Ok, damn! I get it! But I already made t-shirts so deal with it.”

“Fred, we have magic. We can always change the print.” George piped up, tapping the white wooden sticks against his thighs in some random pattern, his head nodding to a beat. He shrugged his shoulders, not focusing on his words all that much,

“George!” This time it was Fred’s turn to smack George in his chest. He glared at him before leaning over to whisper in his twin's ear. It was something you couldn’t make out, but you figured they were debating over your status. You rolled your eyes, reaching behind you.

With a clear of your throat, you gained their attention before pulling out your wand from your backpack. While waving it, you locked eyes with Ron, playfully chewing on your lip to try to hide your smile.

“But-” Fred scrambled to grab his phone. You knew he was going to pull up one of your profiles to show none of them mentioned magic or wizarding or anything.

“The quidditch stickers were a dead give away.” You pointed to Ron’s guitar with the tip of your wand before putting it back in your bag. “That, and the tiny blue car that somehow carried four band members, and all of their equipment even though, that should’ve been impossible. I do enjoy Firebolt Bitters, though.”

Your own smile grew when the siblings broke out into loud snorts and sniggers, save for Fred’s. Ron walked over to you, and you were sure his cheeks were hurting from how hard he was smiling. He laid his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he faced his band members.

“I like this one.”

A smile stretches across your face as your cheeks get warmer. Out of everything to come out of today, this was something even the strongest and most willed seer’s couldn’t have predicted. It wasn’t even half past noon and you’d already started to develop a crush on a punk guitarist who shares a band with his siblings. You were clueless on how you were going to do your managing and keep it strictly platonic when he grinned at you like you were everything he wanted.

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Not by the Moon | 05

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: A sprinkle of grumpy jealous werewolf!Jaebeom who gets a wee bit violent, tooth-rotting domestic fluff, werewolf courting, sexual tension, werewolf!Jaebeom acting like a pup, and poor yet adorable attempts at coming across as human.

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Y/N’s POV. Bam and Jinyoung make a cameo.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

Wonderful as a trip abroad might be, there’s nothing that can compare to the secret feeling of relief when returning home. No longer there is luggage to drag along, languages to swap between, or cultures to assimilate to. While it is in good fun, it’s also physically and mentally exhausting. Henceforth, coming home is like a cozy blanket to wrap around your shoulders by the fire on a cold November day. And once you’re bundled up, it is time to breathe easy and rest.

Although, home is not necessarily a place. In fact, mine has made good on his promise and puppy dreams, standing in the crowd to pick me up.

“Y/N,” a familiar voice calls out as we enter the hall of arrivals, “over here!”

Manes tucked away under a dark red beanie and wearing a simple black jacket over an oversized black shirt, Jaebeom waves to pull attention to himself.

“Who’s that?” Bam follows my gaze to the adorable tall man as we make our way through the crowd of trolleys, suitcases, hellos and goodbyes. “Is that the dude you’ve been texting and calling?”

“He is,” I whisper in reply as we approach him. With every step, the storm of butterflies in my stomach worsens although I feel light as air at the same time. Happiness in Love is a strange thing. 

“So that’s your boyfriend,” my colleague purrs. He sounds pleased in the way I imagine he’d sound if he was my older brother.

I whip my head around, tongue-tied but not enough to protest the assumption. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Bam merely chuckles to himself, grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he continues. “Sure he isn’t, Y/N. After all, you’ve not been touching your lips and turning into a blushy mess afterwards. Or keeping those books you have with you close at all times, looking at them fondly.”

“Of course I am.” Jaebeom jumps into the conversation when we’ve reached him, acting as if he’s heard our conversation perfectly through the ruckus of the crowd. The sparkle in his eyes dims and turns into a poisonous glare when he notices the guy besides me. “Who are you?”

“JB, this is Kunpimook.’’ I gesture from one to the other, jaw clenched in the hope the wolf man won’t actively show the hostility harboured in his gaze. ‘’The colleague I told you about.”

“Just call me Bam.” Politely, he holds out his hand.

“Im Jaebeom,” the other man introduces himself, fortunately accepting the gesture howbeit with a strained expression. “Her boyfriend.”

“Hey, you must be Y/N.” Holding a tray with three coffee cups in it, a young man joins our company. 

Like Jaebeom, who has proudly proclaimed himself my boyfriend, he is tall, slender yet muscular in build and has black hair. Nevertheless, whereas Jaebeom has a flair of being unapproachable, the stranger has a boyish air around him that’s open for contact.

He moves the carrier from his right hand to his left for a handshake. “I’m Jinyoung.”

Immediately, bells start ringing at the mention of his name. After all, there hasn’t been a single call the past week wherein he wasn’t mentioned. “Jaebeom’s told me about you. You’re a professor at the university here, right?”

“I am,” he beams, his proud tone indicating how much he likes his job. “I teach Mythology. It’s a course that encompasses folklore around the world, so it’s fairly broad.”

“You teach only one course?”

“I do, but I’m also a doctor. Well, still studying to be one officially, but I’m allowed to work at the university’s clinic already.”

 “Wow.’’ A professor and a doctor. There’s little else I can say as a mere travel journalist, so I just try to remain casual despite being utterly gobsmacked. 

“I know, it’s a lot. Nevertheless, somehow I manage to do it and occasionally write an article.”

How does he do it? He’s likely not that much older than I, but he’s evidently busier than I am.

“Show-off.” The grumbled insult interferes with the friendly conversation. The focus of Jaebeom’s glare has changed targets from Bam to the professor. However, the latter doesn’t seem to notice his friend’s chagrin.

“I’m simply introducing myself, Jay. Here,” Jinyoung hands him one of the paper cups from the carrier, “your apple and cinnamon tea.”

“You drink tea now?” I raise an eyebrow, surprised. It sounds like a strange concept because I’ve never seen him drink anything but black coffee.

“Doctor’s orders,” JB murmurs in response, discontent and keeping a close eye on Bam as he nips the warm beverage.

“I’ve put him on tea, preferably green, to lower the caffeine levels in his blood. Otherwise, he’ll be staying up all night reading and trying to cook. Oh,” he reaches for something in his pocket, pulling out a small bottle like the one JB showed me in the park and handing it to his friend, “you forgot your meds.”

“You’re on medication?” Bam asks without any implications or judgment. The funny thing is, despite being extroverted and extravagant - extra, in general - he actually studied psychology and thought about becoming a psychiatrist for a while. Therefore, he has a general interest in medicine and its function of helping the human psyche.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Jaebeom sneers sarcastically, his voice closer to a growl than human speech. Then, he turns his attention to Jinyoung, who continues to hold his calm. “Why are you giving this to me now? Couldn’t you wait until we’re back? I’m not gonna take them in front of some stranger, especially not someone close to her. Besides, what does skipping one time or by a few hours matter?”

“Jay, don’t be like this,’’ the young professor sighs. ‘’You know how important timing is, especially with this new treatment.”

“You’re embarrassing me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are!”

A nudge against my shoulder distracts me from the fierce bickering, Bam lowly whispering he’s leaving for home as well as an apology for what he has unleashed. I answer in a similar fashion when promising to call him later and apologizing for putting him into this situation. He merely waves dismissively, unbothered, and disappears in the crowd of trolleys and journeying strangers.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” I intervene lest the situation gets out of hand. A hand on his chest, I try to distract Jaebeom by shifting his focus to me. “Let’s go search for somewhere quiet around here where it’s just us. It’s important to me too you take your meds.”

“Let’s just go home.” His features soften, compromising like I did that day in the bookshop and didn’t want to eat. “I’ll take them in the car, alright?”

“Why do you have to be cross with me about it when you readily accept to take them when Y/N tells you to?” Jinyoung crosses his arms in defiance, lips pulled into a displeased pout.

 “Because she’s my mate,” Jaebeom argues, sure to show his teeth. Withal, he turns into a gentle giant again once he wraps an arm around my waist and looks down at me with so much adoration I feel my cheeks burning up. “Girlfriend, I mean. We’re dating, so she’s my girlfriend.”

“We’ve only been out together once,” I sputter. It’s wonderful to hear the affirmation we’re an item, although I still think it’s a bit too early to claim we are.

“Twice after today. And we’ve kissed,” he corrects me, tone indicating there is no use in protesting. Nevertheless, the sternness wavers as it warms into merriment. “I got you something. I’ll give it to you once we’re home.”

Jinyoung leans in as we head to the exit, whispering. “He went kinda overboard.”

“I didn’t,” Jaebeom growls. “Stop embarrassing me. Know your fucking place.”

“Boys,” I sigh in warning.

Both lower their head and let out a whimper in apology. “Sorry.”

“This is where you live?” Jinyoung parks the car in front of the tall white brick building overlooking the quay at the edge of town.

“Wow...” Jaebeom murmurs in the passenger seat, awed by the fact I live on the east side of town. It’s a recently redeveloped area, the warehouses refurbished into apartment complexes to help combat the growing housing issue.

“I do. Not for much longer, though.”

Both men turn in their seats, looking at me as if I’m insane.

 “You’re moving out?” The professor asks, although it’s more of an exclamation than a question. “Why would you leave this place? It’s one of the most desired places to live within the city.”

However, JB doesn’t care about the reason which makes me want to leave the neighbourhood behind. Instead, he’s anxious to know where to find me. “Where will you go?”

“Do you know those orchards on the outskirts of town? With the old cottages?” Both nod as confirmation. “Well, that’s where I’ll be moving to. I’ve been meaning to get out of the city for a while. Granted, the harbour district isn’t as busy as the city centre. But, despite being only twenty-two, I crave the silence of the countryside. Or, rather, its tranquility which I can also find in the suburbs.”

“You’re twenty-two?” Jaebeom asks, head tilted to the side.

 “I am,’’ I admit as I pull my knees up to make myself as small as possible. ‘’I never mentioned it because I didn’t think it’d matter. Does it, though?”

My voice is hardly audible, a frog stuck in my throat. Why did I have to be the one to bring this up?

“No, not at all! I still like you. A lot. A lot, a lot. But, I’m older than you. Quite a bit, I think.”

“How old?” The question barely rolls off the tongue, pale with dread.

Please, don’t let there be too big of an age gap.

“I’m twenty...” He looks at Jinyoung, brow furrowed.

“Twenty-eight,” the good doctor whispers, unconscious of the fact that the well-meant reminder is loud enough for me to hear.

“Twenty-eight,” Jaebeom confirms, staring back at me in anticipation. “Six years difference. Does it matter? To you, I mean. In how you see me?”

“It doesn’t. Do you see me differently?”

“I never did.”

“Age is only a number, after all,” the professor pitches in to cheer us up further. “Anyway, I’m dropping you off here.”

“Can’t you stay?” Surely I can’t let him leave without at least thanking him with a cup of coffee or tea.

“I’d love to, but- Don’t you snarl at me.” He points an accusing finger at JB, who’s showing his teeth and lowly growling like he did at the airport.

Caught red-handed, the wolfish man feigns ignorance and stares out the window. However, his sulky expression and scoff betray his true feelings.

“As I was saying,” Jinyoung continues after an exasperated sigh, “I’d love to, but I get to attend an interesting transplant operation today and have a bit of research to do for a new article.”

“That’s a shame. I owe you a cup of coffee, then. That’s the least I can do to repay you for driving me home.”

“I’ll make good on that promise soon. But for now, go on, you two.” He motions for us to get out of the car. “Don’t make it awkward by making me the third wheel.”

“Jinyoung.” Hesitantly, the big wolf man holds up his fist.

“No hard feelings.” He bumps his fist against JB’s.

“Good.” The seat belt comes undone, but Jaebeom doesn’t move to step outside yet. Instead, he leans in towards Jinyoung and takes a whiff, squinting as invisible question marks float in the air. “You smell weird, though.”

“Really?” The other man sniffs the collar of his jacket, shrugging casually in jest. “It’s not that bad.”

“Jinyoung.” Despite still looking a bit pale with remorse, the wolf man says the professor’s name harshly, his voice deep as he chastises the turn to humour. He grows still, gaze focused on his friend as he tries to look for what’s unspoken in the other’s body language.

However, there is nothing to see. Although, if there actually is something off, the professor hides it well. But Jaebeom doesn’t get the chance to scrutinize him long enough to see for himself because Jinyoung turns back to the wheel and waves dismissively. “I’m alright, Jae. Go. Have fun with your girlfriend.”

His friend nods, a strained look on his face, and opens the door. I follow behind, having silently observed the conversation from the backseat.

What’re you worried about? Jinyoung looks fine. Nothing wrong with him whatsoever.

Nevertheless, barely have we opened the trunk when the doctor hangs out the window. “And don’t forget your present!”

“Got it right here.” In confirmation, Jaebeom holds up a neat-looking paper bag, chique enough to originally have been used in a boutique.

“That’s my boy,” he chuckles before he resumes his seat.

With a dull thud, Jaebeom closes the trunk again. 

The engine roars to life and the car pulls out of the parking lot, Jinyoung honking a few times as we see him off.

I look from Jaebeom to the bag, leaning in to try and sneak a peek of its contents. “What did you get me?”

You promised me a shirt, but do you really need this big of a bag for one?

“I’m not telling you,” he muses.

I straighten my posture, a smile building as a golden opportunity presents itself. “Aw, what’s in the box?”

“Box? Y/N, it’s a bag.”

“I know, but- Never mind.” I wave the apparently obscure allusion with a dismissive gesture, disappointed he doesn’t get the reference. “Let’s go inside.”

“Are you upset?” he asks as we walk to the entrance of the building.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Another reassuring question burns on his tongue, but before he can ask it I stand on the tips of my toes to peck him on the lips and nose. “I’m not going to get upset simply because you didn’t understand me. Besides, it’s just a trivial matter. Come on, let’s go. I’m hungry.” 

Though I failed the first time, I again try to get a better look at the mysterious bag. As before, the attempt is in vain. “And curious.”

“I think you’ll like it. In fact,” his lips pull into a smug smirk, “I’m fairly sure you’ll look pretty in it. More pretty than you do now.”

It’s prettier.

I let the mistake slide.

To let him have his little moment of triumph.

There is no place like home. Truly, not a single hotel room or bed and breakfast in the world can substitute the small studio with its minimalistic interior in shades of white and grey.

I breathe in deeply, glad to stand in the familiar narrow hallway leading to the kitchen and space beyond. A faint musty smell cuts through the fragrance of the Nordic leather diffuser sticks I bought before going to Belgium.

Guess I’ll be cleaning tomorrow.

Luckily, it’s been only a few days so the level of dust isn’t too bad. Notwithstanding, the place could do with a little clean-up.

“Well, this is me.”

“I know,” Jaebeom replies sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his eyes on me.

“No, I mean, this,” I gesture around as I walk into the apartment, “is my place. My house.”

He murmurs something under his breath, seemingly contrasting two words as he tries to understand them or, rather, the difference between them.

“It’s nice,” he remarks when he has figured out his train of thought, looking around appreciatively.

“The cottage will be nicer, I think. I can’t wait to decorate it, make it cozier than this place. Maybe get some plants, hang up a few photos-’’

“A few of us together, maybe?” He proposes as he, too, takes his shoes off and follows me into the living room.

“For example.” I nod at the bag when we settle down on the couch next to the window overlooking the quay. “Can I open my present now?”

“Say ‘please’.” Arms crossed, he leans in so our faces are mere inches away from each other. His breath ghosts warmly over my lips when he continues in a tender yet playful babying tone. “Life is short, but there is always time for courtesy. Manners, young lady.”

“Can I open my present, please?” Regardless of the chance to finally satisfy my curiosity, I don’t dive into the gift directly. Instead, I stay my hand, bothered by a nagging feeling his words are familiar to me. “What you just said, isn’t that a quote?”

“It is, but,’’ Jaebeom bites his lip, eyes averted to the ground, ‘’to be honest, I can’t remember who said it.”

Funny, how you can remember quotes. Maybe that’s how we can communicate in the future if your condition gets worse. Although, let’s hope that’s not the case for a long time.

“Ralph…’’ I start, trying to recall who originally said it. ‘’Ralph Waldo? No, that’s not right. He went by his middle name. Wait, his middle name was Ralph so it was him.”

“Have you read his work?”

“Honestly speaking, I haven’t. However, I have a friend who studies American literature and poetry and she sends poems, quotes and the occasional snippet. I think I’ve seen him in passing. Anyways,’’ I pull the bag onto my lap, giddy as a child in a candy shop, ‘’let’s see what’s inside.”

The present catches me off-guard because the bundles of clothing are both what I expected and yet not. “You...” I trail off, checking and double checking the amount of shirts. “Seven?”

“One for every day of the week,” he beams, proudly barking his reasoning.

These will last me two weeks if not longer. Minimalism isn’t his thing, is it?

I pull out a big grey hoodie and hold it up to my nose to sniff it. A wild forest of which the air is faintly scented by a cologne with fruity undertones and the musty smell of books. I hum contently, enraptured by the scent. By him. 

From the corner of my eye, I see Jaebeom grinning in unadulterated amusement. Albeit not without effort, I lower the article of clothing. “I know this is likely stupid to ask, but eventually they’ll have to be washed so what if your scent fades?”

“I’ll just scent them again.’’ He shrugs casually before he points inside the bag. ‘’Also, what’s in the little box on the bottom might help with that too.”

In my astonishment, I missed the cardboard square at the bottom which turns out to be the packaging for a bottle of cologne. “You can spray it on. Sure, it’s not really purely my scent but hopefully it’s still rem- remi- a reminder of me.”

You meant reminiscent, didn’t you?

“Or I can go to you and have you scent them,” I joke, only half-serious.

“If that means more time together,” his mismatched eyes sparkling with gleeful stars, “sure, why not? I’d be glad to help.”

“Thank you.’’ Absentmindedly, I fidget with the folds of the hoodie. ‘’I really like it.”

Jaebeom ruffles my hair, letting out a chuff. “You’re welcome. Now, why don’t you just sit tight and I’ll make us something to eat?”

“Don’t set my kitchen aflame, though,” I warn him as the wolf man gets up from the couch.

“I won’t,” he answers smugly before leaning in to steal a kiss. “I promise.”

With a spring in his step, JB sets off for the kitchen with the bag of groceries he pulled from Jinyoung’s trunk. The two must have dropped by the supermarket before coming to pick me up.

A pillow propped up against the armrest and the blanket formerly draped over the couch now covering my shoulders, I lie down for a nap.

As consciousness fades, a warm affectionate wolfish smile pierces through the growing haze. Jaebeom murmurs something unintelligible and turns his gaze back to the chopping board.

I am home.

Dreaming of two little pups running around an orchard.

“Dinner’s ready!” The loud remark barely filters in until it’s repeated up close, the merry bark lowered in volume. A hand shakes my shoulder, but what does the trick in waking me up is the warm wetness nibbling away at my ear. However, it doesn’t stay there, but travels down the side of my neck and ends its journey at the hem of my shirt, giving it a gentle yet fierce tug.

“Y/N, come on. Get up,” JB whines, the words distorted thanks to keeping the fabric firmly between his teeth. He tugs at it again.

What on earth?

I turn onto my other side, causing the big wolf man to let go. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get you to eat.” He makes himself smaller, gaze briefly averted to the side before looking at me again, continuing in the same tender yet stern tone he uses whenever food is involved. “With me. This is my first time cooking for you and I practiced really hard while you were away. So, please, eat with me. I want to know whether I did a good job.”

“Do you have to drag me by the collar for that?” I reach out to scratch him behind his ear, tracing his jaw as my fingers work upwards.

Jaebeom’s eyes mist over, his expression turning dreamy as he leans into the touch. “Want- Don’t know… know how to- Come to… kitchen. Although, maybe, just...”

“Feels good?”

A hasty sheepish smile flashes on his lips as he nods in agreement, eyes closed and speechless.

You really are a wolf. Weirdo. My weirdo.

A whine slips out when I stop. JB slowly opens his eyes again, blinks a few times before he clears his throat. “Can we do that again? After dinner, maybe?”

 “If I liked what you made, sure. However,” I kiss his forehead, “since you asked so nicely, we can do this again after we’ve eaten. So, will you eat with me?”

Will you stay with me?

“What’s wrong?” Picking up on the worrying thought, he tilts his head to the side and scrutinizes my face as he did Jinyoung’s earlier today.

“Nothing.” I shake my head, dismissing the thought since we’ve already said everything there is to say about it. “Just a silly thought.”

His expression falters. “I’m being over- overbear- too much.”

“No, not at all! Don’t say that, silly.”

Jaebeom nudges my nose with his, his tone sweet in an attempt to make me confess what’s bothering me. “Then what is it?”

“I’ve never done this before,” I admit at last. “No one’s ever cooked for me aside from my mom and grandmother or had a guy proudly proclaim himself as my boyfriend. This is simply new to me so it makes me feel, well, a bit awkward. It’s unreal, like a dream that might go up in smoke any second. That’s maybe a better way to put it.”

“I’m really here. Also, remember what you promised me? You’d stay by my side until you can’t anymore and I promised you the same. I’m a wolf, after all. Loyal to my pack or, rather, my- uh- my bi- no, that’s wrong. My lady,” he grabs my hand and lifts the fingers to his lips for a chaste kiss, “I am your gentleman and I won’t go anywhere without telling you first. And, if possible, I’ll take you with me because I refuse to leave you behind. But for now, let’s go eat. Together. I’ll try not to make a mess.”

Don’t cry, Y/N. Don’t you tear up right in front of him.

I take in a shivering breath, swallow hard, and try to regain composure.

We’re here together and wherever it is we’re going next, we’ll be there as we are now.

Side by side.

Even though I’m hungry and the table is literally three steps away, I groan as I get up from the couch. Travelling takes its toll, no matter how short the distance might be. All the same, I shuffle towards the chair facing the kitchen and plop down on it, watching JB plate up. “What are we having?”

“Steak with blanched vegetables and sweet potato mash,” he proudly announces while serving the food.

“Uhm, that’s very nice. However- it’s alright if you don’t remember, but I’m vegetarian.”

“I remembered.” A bright smile forms on his lips, eyes alight with triumph and joy. “That’s why your steak is soy-based. I found it while doing groceries or, rather, Jinyoung pointed it out. He’s been teaching me how to cook and bake. Well, we’re still working on the latter, but I did bring homemade cheesecake for dessert. I still wonder why they call it cheesecake when what’s going in it isn’t really cheese.”

“Beats me too.”

“You got slapped by cream cheese?” Visibly gobsmacked, he leans in with an expression that holds the middle between curiosity and utter confusion. “How did that happen and was it painful?”

“I mean I don’t understand either,” I reply, shaking my head with a low chuckle, and cut into the steak. As the knife sinks into it, a rosy fluid oozes out of it as if it’s been cooked medium-raw which is exactly how I liked it back in my non-vegetarian days. “But baking hasn’t been a success?”

Jaebeom sits back, shoulders hunched as he pokes the carrot on his plate with his fork. “I burned a cake, pulled it from the oven as black as charcoal. Then there’s the case of the exploded soufflés and marble cake that turned out to have no marbling at all. Not to speak of the melted... what’re they called again? There’s also a song that’s got to do with them. Jinyoung sings it a lot. Rocky road! Melted rocky roads and millionaire’s breads.”

“Maybe stick to cooking instead of baking. Not everyone has a knack for both.”

He sighs in defeat. “Maybe I should, but I’ll still try to make you something every once in a while that’s actually good.”

“As long as you don’t blow up one of our kitchens.” I include my kitchen as well because the mere thought of baking together spreads a rosy flush throughout my body that leaves me warm with affection. Besides, it’s another excuse to see him wear an apron, maybe pull some shenanigans myself and have something to eat with a cup of tea or coffee and a good book.

That would make for a nice date. We should do that soon.

“I’ll try.” He holds out his pinky. “Promise.”

The adorable genuineness of the determined gesture is what drives me to seal the promise by wrapping my pinky around his. “I’ll hold you to it.”

While eating the simple yet well-made dinner, the conversation is about novels, the shop, Jinyoung’s cooking lessons and the weary stories of how Kunpimook and I crossed Bruges in search of the best chocolate. Jaebeom hasn’t done much in the time I was away it seems. The bookshop’s been quiet, so he’s had plenty of time to read and work on his cooking. Nevertheless, his expression turns dreamy when I show him the pictures from the trip, but right beneath the surface of it floats a form of sad longing which is too unclear to be certain of or to be properly described.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m glad you got to see this,” he murmurs as he takes my phone from my hand to leave through the collection again. “I’m kinda jealous, though. It’s been so long since I went somewhere other than here. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been somewhere else.”

Brows furrowed, he tries to remember the last time he travelled. Withal, he comes up short, the melancholy of missing memories staining his voice. “I’ve been nowhere except here. Chained.”

“This place clearly is your home, that’s why it’s keeping you here. It knows you belong here and I’m glad you’ve remained.”

He lets out a breathless laugh which oddly holds the middle between a growl and a giggle. “I’m happy you showed up at my doorstep, then. But, the cottage you’ll be moving to... it’d- it’d be nice if I could make that my home too.’’ His cheeks grow pink like rose petals. ‘’Well, maybe not literally, but it would be nice if it would become our little somewhere.”

“Our little somewhere,” I repeat, charmed by the sound of it.

“Our home. Well, concretely speaking. Abstractly, and most importantly, you are my home.’’ He gets up to move to my side, where he crouches at my feet. Foreheads rested against each other, he easily nips at my nose and nuzzles it affectionately with his. ‘’You are what breaks the silence, makes me able to hope for better days.”

“The same goes for you because even though you sometimes still intimidate and freak me out a little bit, you make my days more interesting than they have been in years. So, thank you. For being here, spending your time in my company.”

“Thank you for the same reasons. Now,” JB leans away to get up and starts to clear the dishes, “how about dessert?”

Before either of us is aware of it, the clock on the wall notes it’s already ten past eight when we finish off the homemade cheesecake. Naturally, partially to also do my fair share, I stand up from my chair before the big wolf man does in an attempt to clear the table and do the dishes. However, when I’m about to walk to the kitchen with them, Jaebeom unapologetically takes them from my hands.

“What’re-? JB, you don’t have to do everything! Let me at least do the dishes.” Flattered yet a tad annoyed by the kindness, and poorly conveying my appreciation, I protest in a harsher tone than I intended to use.

Fortunately, though also a bit comically, he remains unperturbed. Notwithstanding, an unyielding sternness underlines his voice when he responds. “You’ve had a long journey, so sit down and relax. I’ll be right with you after cleaning up.”

Henceforth, unable to protest and rendered comatose by the delicious food, I plop down on the couch. Nestled into the corner, I have a proper view of the man who’s claimed my kitchen for himself.

Although it’s an intrusion to a certain degree, it’s quite soothing to watch Jaebeom defy classic gender roles. Contently humming a song and barely shy of skipping, he cleans up the mess with a tea towel tucked into the side of his pants. 

When he’s done, he hangs the tea towel over the stove’s handle, washes his hands, and settles down next to me. On a whim, though it’s maybe because of instinct, I get up from my little corner and nestle against him. He wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer as I drape my leg over his thigh to get into a more comfortable position.

Situated snugly in his safe presence, I close my eyes and sigh in pure content. “Can you stay here tonight?”

“Are you sure? Don’t you want to be alone and rest?” he murmurs into my hair.

“I can recharge with you. Besides, you’re nice and warm.” I snuggle up to him more, basking in the mixture of wild wood and cologne. “A perfect pillow.”

He pulls me on his lap, wraps his arms around my body and pulls me flush against his chest, which feels sculpted but not hard with muscle. Abs are nice and all, but I prefer the softness of a defined though not hardened chest. 

“If it brings you rest,” he curls his finger under my chin and lifts it, compelling me to look at him, “I’ll stay.”

I run my fingers along his jaw and up to his ear, immediately reducing him to the puppy-like state he tends to get into apparently when being touched like this. “Thank you.”

“My pl- pleasure.” What would have been a normal response is lost in a growl when I accidentally brush against his crotch as I shift my weight and sit up a little.

His eyes snap open, the hazelnut brown and ocean blue irises darkened, devoid of any sense of their former satisfied tenderness. With his thumb he traces the outline of my lips, lowly purring. “Pretty.”

“Jaebeom,” I place my hands on his shoulders, maintaining a bit of distance between us. We shouldn’t rush this, but the sensation of his growing bulge against my thigh, throbbing against the inside of it, convolutes every thought. Somehow, his scent seems to have gotten stronger too, overwhelming me with the same clear message the firm grip on my hips has. 

I don’t push him back as he leans in, bridging the emptiness I initiated. Foreheads rested against each other and his calloused hands on my cheeks, he guesses what’s essentially withholding me. “Scared?”

“A bit,” I whimper against his palm, the words muffled by the rough warm skin.

“It’s me, Y/N. I won’t hurt you.” Feverish yet sweetly with persuasive conviction, he kisses me. “I’m your gentleman, your boyfriend.”

“I’m afraid it’ll hurt. That we’re going too fast.”

“We’re not. I want this. I want more of you. With you. But,’’ lips pulled into a straight line, he clears his throat while looking as if he is restraining a wild beast that can easily get the better of him if he lets go, ‘’I’ll leave it up to you.”

So, what you’re asking is… 

Jaebeom takes a deep breath to regain his composure, though it has little effect. His breathing remains heavy, close to panting. Nevertheless, the gentle stars return to his eyes as the strained expression softens. “Will you have me?”

[karasimpno]

ok but imagine akaashi and suga makin out while they both go down on u. im physically unwell elle </3

my stomach just did a FLIP FLOP wowwww wowowowowow

Pairing: Suga x CisFem!Reader x Akaashi

Contains: oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), aaaand some good ole fashioned finger sucking. < 900w

Suga’s strong fingers press firmly into the flesh at the back of your thigh, just above your knee as he holds your leg steadily in place next to your torso, giving him and Keiji the best access to your dripping core. Keiji, on the other hand, has a light grip on your thigh, his fingers adjusting periodically to trace over your sensitive skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

The lewd squelching sounds emanating from the two men lapping desperately at your cunt fill the room and flood your body with heat, but as you see dark hair tangling with light grey above you, you find the sound merely becomes part of the symphony of desire playing out in your bedroom, and you blissfully give in to it. 

What had started as slow, deliberate touches and flicks of tongue down your body, making your skin tingle and soaking your panties, is now hot and heavy, the two men practically groaning with desire, each wanting to plunge their tongue and press their faces further into your slick folds. Your legs are spread as wide as they can possibly go, allowing the two heads as much access as possible, and yet still Akaashi’s sharp cheekbones repeatedly brush against the beauty mark on the side of Suga’s face as their tongues dance around your cunt. The feeling of two strong, wet, muscles slipping through your exposed folds makes your stomach feel like it’s been strapped to a rollercoaster, dropping and soaring in turn as you gasp for breath, pleasure surging through your body in waves.

A finger returns to tease your perineum, and you know instantly it’s Suga’s. You shift up a little on your elbows, your stomach flexing involuntarily at the added third touch to your core. You watch as the two men’s faces rub up against each other, the contact erotic in and of itself. Your moan is nearly a keen when you see Keiji’s jawbone drop low, his mouth agape as he sloppily attaches his lips to your clit. Keiji’s lazy eyes open a bit more and find yours, making your already-fuzzy head absolutely static as he sucks on the sensitive nub. You feel him slide his tongue down again, tangling it alongside Suga’s, and you watch as those grey-green eyes slip over to the grey-haired teacher at his side.

Suga’s finger that had been playing at the back of your walls has now slipped completely inside you, feeling around your clenching hole as his mouth continues to suck up the seemingly endless flow of juices from your core. 

Catching Suga’s expression, Akaashi lets his head loll to the side, resting on your thigh just a bit (and pushing your legs even wider than you thought they were capable) and brings the arm he isn’t using to support himself up and around Suga’s slender but muscular shoulders. Pushing another finger inside of you and with his tongue still pressed against your folds, you see a wicked smile cross Suga’s face at Akaashi’s added contact. He gives your clit three harsh, quick circles with his tongue, sucking on it briefly before pulling off with a wet noise and instantly finding Keiji’s lips with his own after making devilish eye contact with you.

The way both of their faces are covered in your slick makes your eyelids flutter and you throw your head back against the pillow. Hearing the two men groan at the taste of you against each other’s lips is nearly too much for you and your hips buck involuntarily at the sight of it. Suga’s fingers have now begun to curl inside of you, slowly pumping in and out as his palm provides mind-numbing attention to your clit.

Akaashi’s whines and whimpers almost throw you over the edge as you watch Suga’s tongue plunge into his mouth, now fully inside both of his partners. Keiji rolls his body against Suga and you watch as his arm slips down Suga’s bare back, knowing he’s giving his ass a firm squeeze.

Euphoria continues to build in your core as Suga’s fingers move faster between your legs. You feel yourself beginning to fall apart as you watch how roughly Suga’s lips move against Akaashi’s, the younger man’s moans growing steadily louder with your growing orgasm. 

Your hips begin to buck uncontrollably against Suga’s hand and you nearly explode when you see him nod against Akaashi’s lips in response, moving his fingers faster in response to your jerking movements. Akaashi grinds desperately against Suga, pulling him as close as possible. With a sharp curl of Suga’s fingers, you take one last glance at the slick glinting off the faces of the two men entangled between your legs and the tension in your core snaps, your vision blinded with bright white light as you gush all over Suga’s fingers, shuddering beneath the two men.

You think you’re just about as fucked out as you can be, until Suga’s coffee-colored eyes meet yours, carefully withdrawing his fingers from your core. You desperately try to catch your breath as you notice Akaashi’s eyes not leaving Suga’s face, needy with want of attention. Without even looking at the other man, Suga’s soaked fingers messily find Akaashi’s mouth, forcing them inside and you feel your cunt clench with aftershocks as you see Akaashi suck on them. Hard.

karasimpno ml  general taglist (send a message to be added!): @goddessofchaosleo @kodzurin @honeybunny-sawamura @bluntkingkuroo​ @waitforitillwritemywayout @kuroos-simp @katsukis-sad-angel

[tarithenurse]

Nightingale - 47

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: One big mix of smut, fluff, angst, unrealistic handling of PTSD, past trauma, feels, and much more...like lack of proofing, probably. Can’t remember. A/N: Blame @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ for any pain and frustration (of any kind) this chapter might cause. ASK or REBLOG for tag! HUUUGE thanks to all who are reblogging already <3

Ch. 47

“Are you sure, you want to do this?”

“…yes.”

“That didn’t sound convincing.”

“Would you just shut up and let me go?”

“...now that’s more like it.”

Kakashi can barely see the eye roll under the shaggy hair and wide-rimmed hat, but he knows it’s there. He knows all of her is under there. Somewhere. There’s a beard in the way too, and a several worn layers of baggy clothes in neutral colours that do absolutely nothing to call for attention.

The thing about disguises worn in public is not as much to look different as it is to not be worth looking at – plain and boring without any details that can be remembered later so that if any civilian does try to describe what they saw, it’ll be too generic to be useful.

“Asuma keeps saying this kid is good,” Uguïsu straightens her back for one last time before stepping out of the borrowed office, “let’s see how good,” as she speaks the last bit, her voice warps into that of an old man reminiscent of the Hokage though without being a perfect echo, “now lead the way, boy.”

Hrm…maybe she’s enjoying this too much. Still, Kakashi obliges and leads what appears to be an old man out of the front door of their home and towards downtown Konoha.

It’s busier than usual. Although summer always brings a plethora of travellers and farmers to town (which in turn attracts merchants busy to strike a deal or in search of added muscle for the trip back), the upcoming events seem to have contributed the most to the swarming people. Knowing of his girlfriend’s predicament, the jōnin finds it hard to part ways with her and carry on alone. She’s resourceful and talented, he admonishes himself, but still worries if perhaps it was a mistake to have let Asuma ask her for help. Either way, it’s too late to go back now and he must attend to his own tasks if Team 7 is going to take the exams.

…

The fish sizzles decadently on the pan, yellow butter popping as herbs and spring onions change colour from the mat tones to more vibrant and inviting. The rice is already done and shaped (holding the heat under overturned bowls), and the soup is only waiting to be served.

Come on.

As if on cue, the door slides open and a figure steps in mid-metamorphosis: a short, scruffy beard is clutched together with thin gloves; blue strand spill out from under the hat and wig that are slipping askew.

“That was fun,” Uguïsu beams and shuts the door, “and it smells delicious here!”

Headbutting the hat further towards her back, Kakashi kisses her with a smile. “Good to hear. I’m told it went well?”

There’s a sigh from within the layers of clothes that the woman is discarding, “why do you make it sound like a question when you probably already know all the details?”

“Because I’d much rather hear you talk about it, sweetie.”

“Hrm.” Despite the distrustful grunt, it’s a happy face that greet him once she’s back to her normal appearance. “Not before I get something of whatever smells so delicious.”

Kakashi had fairly quickly figured out that his blue nightingale wasn’t a cook – not that she’s bad, but she simply doesn’t have a great interest in it – and had grasped the opportunity to take the so-called task upon himself in exchange for her delightful praises. He liked cooking for some one other than himself; enjoyed knowing that in this way, at least, he could take care of her.

…

“I’m glad they did well,” Uguïsu sighs as she adjust her pillow.

Together, the couple had cleaned after dinner, exchanging stories and gossip from the day interspersed with comfortable silences, and they are now getting ready to get a night’s good rest.

First in bed, the woman waits (im)patiently for the white-haired man and even goes as far as to make grabby hands the moment he returns from brushing his teeth.

“Silly-head,” he whispers through the kisses against her cheek before pulling the mask back in place.

“Says you.”

And he does indeed feel silly when scooting closer. Taking up the usual place by his left side, Uguïsu’s head comes to rest above his heart, her leg casually draped over his, and the left hand idly toying with the string of his pyjama pants. Wrapping his own arm around her, Kakashi feels bare skin wherever his fingertips wander.

Time has passed since the night in the cave, time where Uguïsu timidly has begun to explore each of their bodies out of her own free will. Sometimes, she has let Kakashi’s hands or tongue bring her to the peak of delight and each time, he has marvelled at her as she writhed in silent ecstasy. Those occasions have been far in between.

“Sweetheart…” his voice is weak at the revelation, “are you...do you want me to…?”

The big eyes almost look innocent. “Don’t you think it would be nice to be able to feel each other?”

Yes, I do! With the voice now completely gone, all he can do is nod which his girlfriend takes as a sign that she may begin working the clothes off him although the process is hampered by increasingly needy kisses.

Skin to skin, Kakashi revels in the intimacy his blue nightingale grants him and he can feel the smile that grants his tongue further access; can sense how their bodies shift as if they could melt together. All of his senses are taken over by cotton and sweet, sweet hunger for more as their hands roam in search of purchase.

“Considering how great a day you’ve had,” he hums against the woman’s neck, “a reward could be appropriate?”

Hearing no coherent words, he takes the tug of his hair and the happy mewl as a sign of agreement and follows between her legs as Uguïsu rolls onto her back.

Only a single lamp next to the bed illuminates the room, but for Kakashi's keen eyes, he can easily see the anticipation glistening between the folds, making his mouth water and cock throb...but he takes his time highlighting his favourite paths along her body and limbs with goosebumps before finally and ever so lightly flicking the clit with the tip of his tongue before committing fully to the goal.

He loves this part. What originally had been hesitation for the sake of helping Uguïsu feel safe in spite of her trauma has evolved into a gleeful delight in slowly teasing the woman by winding her up, balancing her on the edge of an orgasm again and again until she’s writhing and begging him.

Hushed moans and whimpers fill the room in waves in accordance to the jōnin's ministrations, and he is considering letting her reach the goal this time (the fourth) when Uguïsu’s fingers tug at his hair insistently until he has crawled close enough to find her mouth.

“Please...’Kashi...” she gasps, “m-more.”

She’s pulling him by the shoulders now and has wrapped her legs around his hips, nudging him gently with the heels until his cock head brushes against the slobbering mess of her pussy.

It would be a lie to claim that the baser instinct aren’t urging him to slide in without a question asked. But he can’t. Apprehension and concern keep him frozen as he scrutinizes the face beneath him for any sign of insecurity.

“Sweetheart...” he swallows hard, steeling himself against his girlfriends attempts to move his body, “please look at me.” Lashes flutter. Her nose wriggles adorably in an attempt, maybe, to help her focus. “I do not want to push you,” Kakashi intonates carefully.

Uguïsu is still out of breath and her chest is heaving, brushing her breasts again him. “You’re not.”

He gives in to the kiss, allowing her to relieve some of the tension of the moment and almost getting lost in the languid desperation before pulling back again. “I love you.” Another deep, but gentler kiss. “I’ll do anything you want.” This time he pulls away from her lips to catch her gaze. “But I need to know you’re sure.”

And there it is: the evasive eyes as she bites into her bottom lip and almost almost distracts him. However, next second Uguïsu fixes her full attention on him again. Then she twists, reaching under the matres to retrieve something in a flat foil-wrapper. She’s prepared for this step.

“I’m sure, ‘Kashi.” Her voice is strong even if it’s still a bit frazzled from the sounds of pleasure he had been drawing from her moments ago. “I want...it. Please, help me know that...that it can feel as good as my body is telling me when I’m with you...and d-don’t let...don’t let him keep that part...”

Going against every single law of nature, Kakashi's heart both breaks and swells, leaving a throbbing crater behind in his chest that overflows with admiration and fear.

Fear. Until this woman appeared from the shadows, fear had only existed in his life in the memories of his childhood – distant and unchangeable, and safe due to its static nature. But in less than a year, Uguïsu has managed to shake his understanding of...well, of everything. She has made him irrationally afraid; brought him a love so tender, he feels like drowning (without wanting to fight it); and has helped him come to an understanding he didn’t know he was lacking.

His hands tremble as he rolls on the condom before wrapping his arms around her. “If you change your mind”, his words are swallowed in the kiss, “you just stop, ‘kay?”

Already, Uguïsu is nudging for his hips to move but halts long enough to cup his face and promise him.

Her last word transcends into a squeak as Kakashi rolls them over, planting the woman he adores on top to ensure that she is the one to control the pace...and guarantee that she can retreat without hesitation if needed. A flash memory from a cave shielding them from a thunderstorm rears in the back of his mind but is immediately banish as she rolls her hips, dragging heat along the underside of his cock and making his eyes roll back.

“Oh?” He can hear her smile and fights to bring her face into focus.

Strong fingers are wringing the sheets beneath him in an attempt to prevent them from thrusting up. It’s a good thing too: extending the motion, her clit rubs the crown of his cock again, sending a new wave of fire through every muscle of him only to be countered by a weightless anticipation when Uguïsu lingers with the cock head by the entrance to her core.

And now she’s the one to tease him until he can’t hold back the stuttering of his hips and she lifts just a bit to position herself better above him and...

...and...? Kakashi looks up to see furrowed brows. “If you don’t -”

“I do,” she interrupts decisively before relapsing to worrying on the lip for a second. “It’s just...how...? I mean...it’s big a-and...I don’t know...if...” she trails off.

Reaching up to kiss her, the white-haired man can’t help but smile. “Take it slow. A bit at a time before pulling back a bit.” A last kiss before he lies down. “Do what feels right to you.”

Oh holy fucking shit! He manages to strangle the words with a groan as Uguïsu sinks down, enveloping the head before stopping with a gasp.

She looks so beautiful. He could compliment her in a million other ways but it’s carnal thoughts that win as Kakashi sees her back arch and breasts heave from the quivering moan that escapes. Her hair is spilling around the shoulders (well, entire upper body) as a silken veil, granting her an ethereal quality together with the sheen of sweat that shines golden in the lamp light.

For a moment she smiles down at him, hands reach for his, and only when their fingers are intertwined does she move again. Slowly up. Just as slowly down. Her mouth hangs open to allow small whimpers escape – sounds that grow when she reaches a certain spot that Kakashi has acquainted his fingers with before and never fails to have her eyes rolling. This time he can’t see that, as he face is scrunching up with concentration and the overwhelming sensation. And emotions. With a final sigh, she sinks down fully on his cock.

That’s when he sees it. The realization crashes like an ice-cold boulder into his guts and he doesn’t stop himself from sitting up to wrap her in his arms.

Tears are streaking Uguïsu’s face, adding salty water to the kisses he peppers her with while he frantically promises her they can stop, that she’s okay, that he never should have said yes, and much more...or he would have if she hadn’t stopped him.

“Happy tears, ‘Kashi, happy tears.” And she is indeed smiling so bright that her eyes almost disappear.

In awe, the more-than-confused man allows her to push him back, place his hands on her thighs, and guide her slow, bouncing motion into a rhythm that chases worries away.

Not yet not yet notyetnotyetnotohfuckinghellnotyet!

It becomes a mantra, played on loop in his brain as his body screams to chase release. His hips are nearly vibrating, lighting fizzling at the edge of his vision while he tries to contain the flood. And when the scalding heat tightens in rapid spasms, the gorgeous woman spilling a broken moan in spite of the rigid body? Let Orochimaru be gone forever, Kakashi manages to think and it grounds him enough to avoid toppling over the edge with his love.

Uguïsu is gasping for breath on her way back to the present, slumping onto the jōnin and enveloping him in her scent of cotton and fresh sweat. “I...had no...no idea...wow!” A moment passes where he strokes her back and kisses the top of her head, then she looks at him, “wait...did you...?”

“This is about you, love,” he smiles, but give me a few bounces and I could.

“And I thank you for that.” He knows she does. “And I want to feel that I can give myself over and that it’ll be good. Together with you,” Uguïsu concludes.

The meaning is clear: being in control is fine and safe but she wants to defeat the lingering fears in the ultimate trust exercise.

He should argue – Kakashi is already mentally preparing every argument – but is prevented from it when the woman rolls them 180 degrees and the movement makes her core squeeze him deliciously. The tightness. The motion. It diverts all of his blood to his groin and makes the hips roll so he’s pushing deeper than ever before and his mind blanks out for a split second until a whimper brings the horrible realization crashing down.

“Fuck!” His eyes snap open and the word slips out again, although with a different intonation, at the sight of Uguïsu’s blissed out facial expression.

Blinking, she looks up at him and he can see the exact instant she hatches a plan because a smirk blooms, twisting those pretty lips. “Please show me...teach me how delicious it is,” she purrs before short-circuiting his brain once more with “sensei.”

Slow drags through Uguïsu's heat fills the room with subtle squelching from where his cock is swallowed, their gasping breaths and moans (sometimes a hiss from Kakashi when nails dig into his back and drag red lines). He really does try to restrain himself...but it’s lost the moment the woman begins to chase a new high, meeting each thrust of her own volition and punctuating them with whimpers pulled from her chest.

Her chest...her breasts. Catching a nipple in the mouth, he barely registers the dark pattern right above it – and if he had, the only thought right night would be along the lines of: you’ve lost, snake – because the effect is astonishing. Arching, undulating, the wetness sucking his cock as deep as it can, Uguïsu cums beneath him and the white-haired man can’t hold back his own orgasm any longer but snaps his hips one last time as their lips meet.

It takes time before either of them can talk (let alone move) again, but that’s alright because words aren’t necessary any longer.

[tokyoghoose]

something that never was

pairing: daisuke kambe x reader

playlist: even if it's a lie - matt maltese*, a soulmate who wasn't meant to be - jessica benko, the less i know the better - tame impala, id rather go blind - beyonce ( cadillac records ), the house we never built - gabrielle aplin*, i cant make you love me - dave thomas junior, i go crazy - orla gartland, blow my brains out - tikkle me, hidden in the sand - tally hall

warnings: angst, mentions of cheating,

summary: the coldness he radiates gets the best of you, ultimately leading to the end.

announcements!

i dont really see daisuke cheating unless it was a misunderstanding or smth, but i liked the idea of this fic. Let me know what you think!

you can tell i didnt write this in a sitting lol. Im vv sorry if it's hard to follow!

feedback is welcome and appreciated! requests are open!

There's a warm body beside you, yet the bed feels cold. The arm around your waist feels almost as foreign as the face in front of you. It hurts to look at him, to feel him. It hurts to even be around him. He's so beautiful but he feels like half the man he once was. It's disheartening.

Maybe the saying, what you don't know can't hurt you is correct because you were feeling the repercussions right about now. Curiosity really did kill the cat, and at this point, you don't even know how to get satisfaction from it. How does one bring up cheating to their partner? Especially when the partner is like Daisuke.

He likes to brush things off without paying a price except for whatever was in his bank account, the type to hand you a card and say 'go get yourself something pretty.' And it wasn't like he was a bad lover, in fact, it was very easy to fall in love with him. He has a charm about him that's magnetic, one glance and suddenly it's impossible to look away. Or at least that was your experience.

With the final confirmation that closing your eyes will do nothing other than bringing pictures into your head, you turn your back to him and try and distance your body from his. It doesn't do anything to help when he pulls you closer subconsciously, except for maybe it makes you want to cry.

You'd confront him tomorrow, you decided.

If you need to.

———

The pace you set is leisure and if kt wasn't for the poor nail bed quickly coming to nothing, it'd seem like you weren't completely losing your head. It's all you can think about. Daisuke out with some girl—who you know for a fact isn't his sister, and who is all over him. He didn't even make a move to push her off! He hates that kind of attention so if he didn't object it, then he was asking for it. He wanted the girl on his side. In fact, for someone who insists the other person sits across from him at a restaurant- he looked quite comfortable with her nearly in his lap.

Maybe you're overthinking this, y/n.

The door clicks open and your ears strain to hear the sound of Daisuke's dress shoes. He's rather indulgent when it comes to dressing wear and the shoes were practically silent, even with the short heel on the back.

"I'm home." He says to no one particular, taking off his trenchcoat and hanging it on the rack beside the door. He stops his path to the bedroom when he sees you frozen in place and staring in the living room. He merely quirks a brow, going to take off his suit and tie.

Suddenly you can't speak and you have tunnel vision. It's unfair how calm he always looks—it's almost smug like he knows everything about you and more. Like he can read your mind and tell you your darkest thoughts and when you'll die because let's be honest, it'll probably be by his hand. Maybe you should back out now before you can say anything. Forget it all because what if you're mistaken? The more you think, the more weight is added onto your shoulders and the more it pushes you down, down further into the hole you want to crawl into. Maybe you should let it because all you want to do now is escape his piercing gaze. His eyes are studying you, taking in your form and the cogs in his brain are turning to find an explanation as to why you are standing there like a psychopath and not welcoming him home like you usually do.

You feel like you're drowning. Is the light getting dimmer? The black around your vision only seems to close in around Daisuke and you try to look anywhere else but his face. There's water in your ears, the popping of them only intensifies until you can feel it pounding into your head with faint static.

Am I going to pass out?

It's not until his hand comes down gently on your shoulder that the closing circle of vision widens out and suddenly all the imaginary water rushes from your ears. You glance down at his rings before back up him, barely catching the end of his words.

"Are you alright?"

He's never been one to beg, so you would have to answer now or he'll leave it be for the rest of the night and probably months after until you're like this again.

"I-can we talk?"

He eyes you suspiciously, narrowing his eyes and keeping his brow raised before nodding, slipping his tie off around his neck, folding it neatly into the palm of his hand. He gestures for you to start the conversation, going to the minibar curving around the kitchen and living area.

When you don't reply he urges you on, "Why so tense? Did something happen, darling?"

It'd seem like he didn't really care from how cold his voice was, but you've grown accustomed to the monotone to know that he truly is concerned for your health. He genuinely wants to know why you're acting so odd. It only makes this so much harder? You're wrong- you have to be. This must be a sick trick your brain has played on you. Or he must be playing some sick trick.

Anxiety settles itself into your gut and it seems like it won't leave anytime soon.

"Daisuke, are...- are you cheating on me?"

His eyebrows finally go lax but he doesn't look up from unbuttoning the cuffs of his white button-down. His fingers fidget at the buttons and instead of the previous loose form, his hand forms a fist.

"I- "

"Why—exactly, are you accusing me of this?"

His gaze sends chills down your spine. He's offended but he doesn't offer a defense. Suddenly your mouth is dry and you lose all your words? How exactly were you going to tell him you stumbled across him and some woman in a restaurant and practically stared them down for fifteen minutes.

You decide the bear it and swallow a lump that has formed in your throat.

"You were with a woman earlier this week snd well, the displays of affection that I saw were not very like you. You've been gone for long hours and even if you blamed it on the new job, Daisuke—you never tell me anything. Is she for a case? Are you using her for information? Go on, tell me about it. Give me a reason not to accuse you."

You regain your confidence but it falters when you meet his indifferent expression. You'd prefer it if he looked angry and the silence that fills the room is deafening and the tension suffocating.

"I can't tell you anything about our cases-"

"I'm your partner! What am I going to do? Rat you out to whoever is breaking the law? Why would I even how those connections, Daisuke?"

Daisuke inhales deeply through his nose like this whole conversation is a burden on him and you can't help but feel like a burden too. Was this relationship not worth the time to talk this out? One hand grips the bar and the other pinches the bridge of his nose.

"You aren't my partner, you're my fiance. My partner and I work together. So, no. I can't tell you about the cases."

You want to rip out your hair. This isn't about his stupid job or his stupid partner. This is about the dumb fucking restaurant and the dumb fucking woman who was hanging off him.

He can't actually be this dense!

"It's not about that! Either you aren't getting the point or you keep changing the subject because it's true!" Your voice rises in pitch, your confidence failing and turning more so into desperation. But you aren't crying yet. There are no tears and your eyes are dry and you absolutely refuse to cry in front of a Kambe.

It's like the beginning of your relationship all over again. A protective barrier around yourself so you don't get hurt and offended by his cold shoulder. Was it so bad to think you've moved on from that feeling? Why is it so difficult for him to just comfort you and push back those fears? Is he that emotionally stunted? You may not know much about his past and his family, but damn— at least you're trying to work through it with him. Can he put out a little more effort?

All he does is pour himself a glass. All he does... is pour himself a glass.

"You know what- forget it. If you're so entitled and so emotionally reserved that you can't even talk to me without a drink first, then I guess we'll talk about it another time—when you don't look like my voice gives you a headache."

Daisuke actually looks taken back by your words and you suddenly feel bad for hitting a sore spot. He may not have shown it often, but he doesn't particularly like not being able to show his true emotions; no matter the reason being.

"Y/N, wait.."

But you're back on adrenaline just as soon as he felt a drop, pushing past him to get to your coat. You just needed to calm down before you said something you'd truly regret. Words tended to stay in his mind much longer than they were intended to.

"I'm staying at my mother's. Don't call me, don't text me, don't come near me until you're ready to tell me what the hell you were doing with her. "

When he doesn't say anything more and you can practically hear the cogs in his head turn, you make your way out there door, making sure to slam it shut.

You slip on the coat angrily, slamming open the door without sparing him a glance but waiting for him to say something. Anything. Were you being too rash? You shake your head and scold yourself, mentally. You can't just turn around now, not after an outburst like that. He has to learn something from this.

Irrational or not, hopefully, his true colors would show.

[spideymarvelws]

It Was Fun While It Lasted

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglists

A/n : this is kind of an alternate ending to endgame ig? a version where your a long lost child of thanos and Peter lost the gauntlet only to find it at the same time as you and plot ensues. Kind of the same thing with Clint and nebula but way further down in the movie. I just really wanted to write a villain reader okay leave me alone idk what im doing. also sorry for any inaccuracies i havent watched endgame is so long😭im just going off what i remember. 

Summary : Despite your life on earth, your life with the avengers, you’ve always felt like something was missing. You never felt that longing to save the people of the world, their wide smiles and thanks never satisfied you like it did everyone else. That was until Thanos told you about your true past, your true purpose.

To destroy the universe.

Warnings : cursing, betrayal, (ik we should just give Peter a break, but its for the plot im sorry) just pretty angsty so you’ve been warned

Word Count : 2.8k

Heavily inspired by this and this playlist on youtube

Peter Parker x GN!Villian!Reader

...

“It’s under all that ruckus,” Sam yelled through coms, flying over the fallen building he once called the avenger’s compound, “Can anyone reach?”

Peter webbed one of the aliens, using the makeshift leash to pull himself over the creature, knocking it into another one of his kind. His new spider legs retracted from his suit, helping him land gracefully on the floor quick enough to see the domino effect he just caused.

He quickly caught Sam’s words, looking up to see he was right outside the fallen building.

“I can!” he quickly said, flicking his wrist to catch on to a random flying alien, pulling it down to the floor as he took flight, landing on the top of one of the cracked walls. He swiftly searched for an opening under the rubble with the help of Karen tracking where he looked.

Suddenly a red light flashed from a cave like opening, giving him a small cheer at victory. As he crawled into the gap, some static came through his ear piece signalling that someone was about to talk.

“Good luck Kid,” Tony muttered into his ear followed by a loud blast as the comms cut off. Even with the rough cut, he could still feel the small smile making its way to his face.

Though there was a full fledged war going on that might decide whether everyone lived or not, all his young brain could think about was how cool it was to be fighting alongside every superhero he’s ever known, and more. If only he could go back to when he first got bitten, to tell his past self that at some point in the future he would be fighting alongside the avengers.

That he himself was an avenger.

It was crazy to think about. To think about how far he’s come that he was able to save the world and not just help some old lady cross the street. As thoughts continued to bloom in his head, he carefully crawled through all the debris, taking care that he didn't stick to parts that might take down the small opening.

Soon enough he found a clearing, what looked like a living room area judging from the couch covered in dust and the familiar stone pillars and plants. He detached himself from the ceiling, landing softly on the floor as he looked around the dirty room, moving away from the flickering wires that hung from the slanted ceiling.

He soon caught sight of something shiny and gold from underneath a fallen pillar. He punched his arm in the air, running to the object and carefully pulling the gauntlet out of its snug position.

“Found it,” he said into his comms, grunting as it finally released, sending him back slightly, “Coming out now,”

“I’ll meet you outside,” Tony said before cutting off once again.

Peter looked back at the opening determined, strutting towards the exit, his confidence growing with each step. A crunch of debris shook him out of his pride, making him stop in his tracks. He quickly ducked behind a piller, looking at the shadows shown on the wall opposite him with his hand ready to web whatever it was making its way into the cavern.

But as soon as he caught your silhouette standing in the shadows, he let out a deep breath, his shoulders sagging as his muscles lost the sudden tension. He stepped out from his hiding spot to greet you.

“Oh thank god it’s you,” Peter chuckled, his hand falling to his side as he adjusting the gauntlet in his hand, “I thought it was another one of those alien thingies,”

You stayed silent, standing ominously with your arms to the side, twirling your gun slowly. He couldn't see your face hidden in the shadows, only the red glow of the necklace around your neck, illuminating details of your suit on your chest. He noticed how your body shook lightly, like a bomb about to go off. 

Peter chuckled nervously, tightening his hold on the glove.

“Is- is everything alright?” He said, taking careful steps towards you. 

He didn't listen to the voices in his head telling him to run, to get away as fast as he could. You were his friend, his partner in crime he liked to say. 

You would never hurt him.

You stayed silent a few seconds longer, the only thing proving to him that you weren't a lifeless manikin were your movements as you shifted from leg to leg. But he didn't think much of it, it was a scary time for everyone. Maybe you were just glad that he got the gauntlet and not someone from Thanos’ army. Maybe you were just glad to know he was okay after being separated.

“I’m sorry Peter,” you finally spoke up, your voice dangerously low, something he wasn't use to, “But I’m going to need you to give me that glove,”

Peter was taken back by your words, mostly still confused but also slightly worried at your words and sudden presence, “What! Why?”

“I can’t-,” you let out a harsh breath, “I can’t tell you why Peter, just give me the damn glove,”

“No, I-,” he let out a gasp when you raised your gun, aiming it directly at his chest, “Woah, woah, woah!” he held his empty hand up in defence, “What are you doing!”

“I’m getting that glove one way or another Parker,” you said harshly, your tone slashing at his heart, “So either you give it to me or i’m prying it off your dead corpse, you decide,”

Peter stayed silent, trying to process your sudden change in, well, you.

Only minutes ago, you were fighting alongside him, well what felt like minutes ago. He lost all concept of time when the army charged towards him, his main focus was getting that gauntlet away from Thanos and doing his job as an avenger. 

But you were there, using the same gun pointing at him now to blast the same aliens attacking him. That was until the land beneath you detached itself, creating a small floating piece of dirt that took you up in the air, taking you away from him.

He didn't have time to follow you when he got tackled to the floor, losing sight of you as you moved to the direction of Thanos.

That's when it clicked in his head.

But before he could question anything, his senses went off as he narrowly dodged the blast of your gun. With the distraction, you took the opportunity to lunge at him, knocking him to the floor.

“What did he do to you!” he grunted, throwing up the gauntlet and webbing it to the ceiling. Before you could jump for it, he tackled you to the floor, webbing one of your hands to the ground.

“He told me the truth!” you screamed, punching him in the nose with your other hand. He webbed that hand to the floor as it tried to reach out to your gun. He kicked away the weapon, webbing the rest of your body, making sure that you were secure, unable to escape.

He didn't want to, but you were unstable, not yourself. Whatever Thanos did to you, fucked up the person he knew, the person he loved and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. He was determined to get you back.

“What do you mean ‘truth’? Do you hear yourself right now!” he said in vain, his chest heaving with every breath. 

You stopped struggling in the webs, making Peter question if you ever were. You only laid with a wide smile on your face that soon turned into hysterical laughter. Tears flowed freely from your eyes as you tried to catch your breath making Peter’s breath hitch.

“loud and clear Peter,” you managed to get out, your laughs calming down to little giggles.

“Then why are you doing this? Why did you attack me!”

You rolled your eyes, “You refused to give the what i wanted that’s why,”

“But why do you want it?” he said desperately, growing annoyed with your vague words.

“Why do you want to save the world?” you countered, “Because it feels good right? You feel accomplished? You feel needed, you feel useful,” you shook your head, “You feel like aching pain in your chest to do the right thing, to do what you think is right for the world” you paused, “So what’s so wrong in wanting to destroy it,”

“I save the world because it's the right thing to do Y/n,” he said seriously, disgusted that you would think of the possibility of destroying the universe, “You’re killing innocent people! You lived through those five years, you knew how devastating it was for everyone,”

“But i enjoyed it,” you cut him off, “I enjoyed watching them suffer, because- because i knew it was the right thing, what Thanos did- it was destiny. It was fate! But you fail to see that, you all fail to fucking see it!”

“See what! See what!” he shouted, trying his best to understand what you were saying because none of it was processing in his head.

“People don’t appear out of thin air Peter! I didn’t have a family or friends! I woke up in the middle of nowhere! Knowing nothing about myself and you people fucking took me in and USED me because of my skil!” you spat, “When i asked to find my real family you all denied it, you denied everything i ever said, i asked, you people did nothing for me!”

He started to back away when he noticed your hands begin to glow red, the webs around your body melting off your skin. Suddenly his hands became heavy, something cold clicking around his wrists, pulling him to his knees. He struggled, his muscles strained as he tried to break free but it was futile.

He let himself get trapped, he let himself get distracted.

What confused him more was your sudden power. You were known for your slick fighting skills and use of your guns and various weapons. Not powers that made chains burst out of the ground strong enough to withhold him even with his super strength.

Did Thanos do this to you? Is this why you turned to his side, because he gave you special abilities?

“But now, I know my true self, I know my purpose,” you continued, “I’m not a superhero Peter, maybe not by your definition. Saving all those people, using my powers for ‘good’ means nothing to me,” you stood tall over him, power surging through your veins, “cause guess what! It’s repetitive! People will always find a way to get hurt, to use people for their gain! Humans! Humans are a fucking waste of time but you all never saw that. You just saw the good not the evil,”

“Because that’s our j-”

“Because that’s our job, yes I know, but it's not,” you cut him off once more, “Who ever said that we need to protect people who can’t even help themselves? Who ever said we needed to have this responsibilities on our shoulders for something we can’t even control,” you pointed at him, “You never asked to be spiderman, sure the same can’t be the same for iron man or captain america but they choose that, we didn’t,” you sighed, “But none of you understand that, only-” you paused, “only Thanos does,”

“Is that why you're doing this? Because of something our enemy said,”

“Your enemy, not mine,” you smiled weakly, “He’s made more sense to me that any of you have, he showed me my true powers, my true self in the matter of minutes, something you all couldn't do in years,” your hands dropped to your side, “because he’s my family, he knows my true destiny the real reason why I was given my gift,” you gestured to the gauntlet, “And that’s to complete what he started, that’s why he put me on earth Peter, and I can’t let you or anyone ruin that for me,”

That’s when it clicked, “You’re his child,”

You smiled softly at his words, “I’m not a hero Peter,” your shoulder shook as you let out a tired laugh, “I’ve tried telling you this so many times but you-,” you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, “You just never fucking listened!”

Peter stayed silent, looking down at the floor in defeat. You knelt down in front of him, talking his jaw in your fingers to pull his face up, forcing him to look into your eyes.

“I never wanted to hurt you Peter,” you whispered, your eyes softening as you looked directly into his now dull, dirty browns.

“You already did,” he sneered, feeling no remorse for his words, “You did when you took his side, when you betrayed us, after everything we’ve fucking been through your side with a purple fucking raisin,”

You only sighed, your head dropping as you stood back up, stretching your back, “You’ll understand Peter, one day you will,” you began to walk back to the gauntlet, flicking your fingers to get rid of the webs, “To bad I won’t be there for that to happen,”

The shiny piece of metal fell softly into your hands, laying snugly in your palms. Peter watched with dread as your eyes glimmered with glee, reflecting all the colours of the stones, glowing dimly when it landed on the red one.

“How do you think it’s going to feel?” you said out loud, staring in awe at the gauntlet, “I mean I’ve felt the wrath of one stone but six?!” you chuckled, “I could only imagine what that must feel like,”

Peter only grumbled at your words, looking around for something, anything that might spark a light in his mind. That might help him to escape but he found nothing. You had the power of a fucking infinity stone running through your body, if he were to try anything you were sure to break him back down despite which stone you got your powers from. It didn't matter, you were still stronger than him in every way.

“Question is, should I put the glove on, then the stones? Or maybe the other way around? Should I do them all at once or individually,” you looked back at him with a mad grin, “The options huh?”

“You really are his child,” Peter grumbled, looking off to the side, “Sick and twisted, just like him,”

“See! You finally get it!” you said excitedly, throwing your arms in the air, “Glad to know we’re finally on the same page,” you giggled right after. 

Normally it would make his heart flutter, but now it only made him sick to his stomach.

“God, It’s just-” you took a deep breath, “I’ve haven't used my powers in fear of hurting others that- that I never even cared about! I just acted like i cared cause- cause that was my job right? That’s what everyone said!” you flicked your hands at the glove, morphing it into the perfect size to fit your arm right in front of his eyes, “Now, I could explore its limits, its full power without being thrown into some tacky jail in the middle of nowhere,” You grinned, “Isn't that exciting?”

You began to take out each individual stone, keeping them floating by your ideas, your eyes flickering from each one to judge it like it was a beauty pageant.

Peter looked at you ridiculously, “No, it isn't,” he took a deep breath, “Y/n, this isn’t you,”

You chuckled, fitting the glove on your hand snuggly as you raised the six individual stones further in the air, spinning them around you, “On the contrary,” you moved the space stone to one of the slots, groaning as its power seeping into your body, “I think this is most i’ve felt like myself in a while!”

He watched in horror as you put each stone in its individual departments, your smile growing wider and wider with each one. Your body began to float off the floor, the light emitted almost blinding him at how bright it grew.

“You don’t have to do this Y/n!” Peter shouted desperately, grunting as he pulled on the chains keeping him locked to the floor, “God dammit Y/n! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

You ignored his pleas, his words void of anything to your ears. 

“I’m sorry Peter,” you whispered, turning back to look at him with red glowing eyes, “But the villains just have more fun,” you cackled, breath heavy as the power of all the stones surged through your veins, making them pop with colour, “And I’m about to have the time of my life,”

With that, a bright white light filled Peter’s eyes, knocking him back against the debris, taking him out cold on the floor.

...

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[orionwhispers]

Sweet Disaster// Tommy Shelby

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stupid fucking boys.

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

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

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

“How are you holding up?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What the bloody hell was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

Pretty girl.

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

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

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

“We’re alright here, love. Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

“You shouldn’t be here all alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

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

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

You froze.

Oh Christ.

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

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

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

“She’s with me.”

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

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

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

“Get the fuck out.”

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

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

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

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

That seemed to do it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N), wait.”

Your name on his tongue was sweeter than honey and richer than wine, it sounded so right that it hurt. It had been so long since you had heard him call you by your name, so long since he had spoken to you that your gut was twisting inside of you, your whole body aching for him to do nothing but repeat that word like a mantra.

You inhaled, thinking of a way out. It was too dangerous, you were playing with fire and you couldn’t get burnt, not again.

“I’m sorry — I didn’t know, it’s Jessica’s birthday and we - ” You hated how you stumbled over your words. You had never felt so uncomfortable around him and it made your skin crawl. You had kissed him under the stars, laughed with him in the corner of a private party, made love to him in every room of his fucking mansion, and now he felt like a stranger.

You knew what he looked like when he woke up, with his sleepy eyes and tousled hair. You knew what he looked like when had spent the night doing something unholy, you had cleaned his knuckles and kissed his wounds as you sat pressed up against him in the tub, his hands wrapped around your waist. You’d stood by his side, your hands intertwined in the middle of some expansive ballroom, and listened to him sweet-talk his way into a new business deal, all the while stroking his thumb over yours. You had seen him vulnerable, pulling you so close to his chest that it was like you were bound together, whispering to you how he loved you, how he couldn’t live without you.

But he still let you go.

He moved in front of you, leaving you with no choice but to meet his eyes. He looked good, but that was a given, he always did, no matter the circumstances. He looked so... soft. He always seemed that way around you, his eyes getting a little bit kinder, the harshness of his words dipped in sugar, even the sharpness of his jaw looked inviting and gentle, practically begging you to wrap your palm around it.

You bit your tongue. You were being ridiculous. You were seeing things that weren’t there. It was over between the two of you, he had made that very clear. You were grasping at straws and all it was going to do was hurt you.

He spoke suddenly, his thick accent cutting through the silence that felt so loud. “It’s alright. Only really been ours since last night, there were... problems with the last owners.”

Despite everything you felt the ghost of a smile tugging on the edge of your lips, immediately knowing what ‘problems’ he was referring to.

“Arthur?” You asked.

“Yes.” He said with a small grin. “Arthur.”

A moment passed. The air around you feeling all too hot and all to cold at once. It had been a long time since you had seen one another, and both of you were caught up in appreciating such familiar beauty up close. You had missed the small things about him, like the slight curl of his hair and the veins in his neck, you could remember running your lips across the curve and dip of his throat.

You were treading in dangerous waters. It wouldn’t be long until the current pulled you under, and you weren’t quite sure how much longer you could keep a rational mind. You inhaled, flittering your eyes to meet his in some kind of signal of parting, pulling your clutch tighter to your body as an attempt to keep yourself grounded. “I should go. It was good to see you, Tommy.”

You spun on your heel, heading for the large golden doors that led outside. Fresh air would clear your mind, the stars and the velvet night would be good for clearing out all of the junk rattling around in your skull, but you barely got two steps forward before he spoke, already knowing his next words before he even opened his mouth.

“Let me drive you home.”

He spoke so surely, addressing you the way he would one of his brothers or Johnny, as if he knew what was best for you. Once upon a time you would have believed that he did, let him grasp you by the wrists and drag you to the end of the world if he asked nicely, those fucking baby blues and pink lips dulling any warning sirens in your head.

Even now, after everything, you knew that he would never put you in danger, that he would always protect you. And it was with the knowledge of that striking your heart like lightning, you knew that you were still hopelessly, undoubtedly in love with him - not that you ever thought differently, but you had done a damned good job of pushing your feelings away.

“You’ve had a lot to drink,” He said, “and I wouldn’t even let you out on those fucking streets by yourself stone cold sober.”

You pursed your lips. “I’m not drunk, and you don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m driving you home.”

You looked up at him through your painted lashes, disarming him in a million different ways you didn’t even realise. You were oblivious to the fact that his breath felt trapped in his lungs.“You and I both know that’s not a good idea, Tommy.”

“Cmon. Get your things.”

You sidestepped away, pushing the bottom of your heel deeper into the champagne coloured carpet. “No Tommy, I’m not a child! I don’t need your help.”

He rolled his eyes, something akin to fond exasperation rising to his cheeks. You felt your heart drop and flutter like it was a sparrow inside of you, you had never thought you would see that face again, and it hurt how something so simple could twist and mould you in his hands like clay.

He pressed his hands to the small of your back, pushing you forward.

“I don’t care if you don’t want my help. I’m doing it anyway.”

You huffed. Too tired and drunk and confused to put up a real fight.“Fine.” He smiled coyly and his smug attitude made you click your teeth, running a hand through the curls in your hair, not stopping the childish retort on the edge of your tongue. “Prick.”

You felt his hand swat at you, dangerously close to the hem of your dress and you were certain that your cheeks were the same colour as the candles flickering on the tables below. It was such a playful, tender thing to do, and so horribly familiar - memories of his hands on you, pinching and teasing and digging in, a way of communicating without words, something so intimate and personal, something that only the two of you knew.

You wondered if he felt the same way. You wondered if he was reminded of the past, of peach moons and starlight kisses and strawberry lipstick, but as always he remained impassive, as poker faced as always as he strolled down the hall, pushing open the wide brass doors and waiting for you to pass through, him trailing behind you, like always.

———————————————————————

Through your hazy eyes the moon almost looked pink, like a spotlight shining down on you, illuminating the both of you as Tommy’s car purred down the streets, like a black cat stalking under the cover of darkness.

It smelt like him.

Like cigarettes and sin and mint and woodsmoke. You were reminded of driving at midnight with the windows down, his hand wrapped around your thigh, his eyes anywhere but the road. You thought of sticky skin and leather seats and the smell of sex, breathless little laughs and the feel of his teeth biting down on your top lip.

You stared at the polish on your fingernails, hoping for some kind of distraction from the man beside you. It wasn’t far to your flat, and you prayed that the drive home would be as hitch free as possible.

“Had a good night?” Tommy asked, looking over at you from behind the wheel. He’s not even sure what he’s saying, his usually mechanical brain almost short circuiting because you’re finally next to him again. Words and phrases seem tasteless and meaningless, but he wants to savour as much of you as he can. He knows it makes him hypocritical, especially given everything he’s put you through, but he’s never really been very conventional with his love.

“It was alright.”

“Friends from work?”

“Yeah. It was Jessica’s birthday, she wanted to get drunk, you know how it can be.”

“And that...that man - ?” He cleared his throat, hoping that his words came off breezier than they sounded in his head, pretending as if the thought of you with somebody else didn’t feel like a noose around his neck. “Who was he?”

“Just some stupid twat.”

Your words weren’t doing much to quell the fiery flicker of anger inside of him, half of his brain telling him to turn the car around and put a razor blade through the fuckers eye - but one glance over at your sleepy, beautiful face and all of his jealousy fades into mere smoke.

None of it matters.

Nothing will ever matter more than you.

“I shouldn’t have even been out tonight, but Emma practically dragged me.”

Emma. The name rings a bell. He flips through a mental picture book of everyone you’ve spoken about, and finally lands on the glamorous, dark skinned, velvet haired vixen that you called your best friend.

Memories come flooding back.

The nights you would spend with her when he was too busy with work. How in the darkness of his office with nothing but an empty feeling in his chest and glass of bourbon beside him, the phone would ring and cut through the silence.

He’d roll his eyes when Emma spoke quickly down the line, words slurred and filled with giggles as she would explain the drunken shenanigans you had both fallen into. He’d drive through the night and the dim city streets, his mind for once not filled with business deals or money, instead his heart tugging at the thought of his doe eyed, honey lipped girl waiting for him in the city.

“I think she had too much to drink.” Emma would say, clambering into a taxi cab she had managed to hail, teetering in her tall satin shoes. “I wanted to take her home with me, but she was causing such a big fuss and asking for you - couldn’t bloody say no.”

Outside the club his voice would be stern and his stare would be solid. Clipped, quick words to the doormen, feeling you press your cold nose into the base of his throat, mumbling something incoherent about how pretty he was. He’d scold you fondly. Settle you down in the back seats of his car and cover you up with his jacket, smiling ever so softly at the way you cuddled into the warmth and the familiar smell.

He thought of how lonely his nights had been without you.

“How is she?”

“Fine. Everyone is just fine.”

But how are you? He wants to ask, but he has a feeling that no matter the answer he’ll still end with a bullet in his gut, so he lets the silence engulf the both of you, nothing in the air but unspoken tension and the soft purr of the engine.

He had an idea. Something conniving and crafty, something that he’s been wanting to do since the night he told you that it wasn’t safe to be with him, the night he told you to leave. Thomas Shelby has always been a strong, level headed man, but something about you just makes him crumble. You have a way of twisting around him, snaking around his thoughts and feelings like a vine, and he gives himself up wholly.

He would never put you in a position you were uncomfortable with, but he can’t help the claw in his gut when he thinks of how long it’s been since you’ve been apart. He can smell the sweet liquor and perfume on you, can see the way your eyes are glossed ever and your hair is mussed. You’re tired, and after the way that goddamn leech of a man had been fawning over you Tommy is in no mood to leave you alone, he likes knowing that you’re safe, it’s the only thing that makes him able to sleep at night.

He glanced over to you, watching as you yawned into your palm, your soft, pretty eyes looking at the stars and the moon and his decision was made for him.

“You missed the turn.” You said a few moments later, perking up a little in your seat.

“Hmm?”

“You missed it. You should have turned left back there.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you’re pretty sure you know the reason why. Despite the part of your body that is sparked like a match at the thought of spending the night with him, you also know that it is too dangerous, that the two of you together are fire and gasoline.

“No. No, Tommy. I’m not staying over with you.”

“Yes you are. You can stay in a guest room - it’ll give you time to sleep off that hangover.”

“I’m hardly drunk.”

“Well, when we get home you can walk in a straight line for me, eh?”

“It’s not my home.”

That hurt.

He ignored you, feeling the familiar bite of irritation, hating that he wasn’t the same man to you that he once was. He could feel his tone getting desperate, and under any other circumstance he would be furious at being so weak, but never around you. “Just stay. Tonight? For me. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not getting into any trouble.”

“Tommy Shelby never sleeps.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, sighing in defeat. Tommy smiled, and realised as the car lurched over the bridge that’ll take you back where you both belong that he’s the happiest he has been in a long time.

—————————————————————

His house was as intimidating as ever, even more so under the thick blanket of the night. The architecture looked gothic, the sprawling roof and high chimneys almost seeming menacing as the car pulled up along the gravel, the low sound of the rocks crackling like a fire.

It almost felt strange. A house you had stepped foot in hundreds of times, suddenly feeling unfamiliar and mystifying. It was like the very first time you had seen the house a few years ago, how the large rooms and the tall ceilings seemed empty and dangerous, as though they housed a million secrets.

But since then it had been full of so much light. You had danced with him playfully, barefoot on the kitchen floor, with the windows open and soft jazz flittering in the air like sunlight. You had slept on the sofa in the drawing room, tangled up against his bare chest, the room littered with wine stained glasses and cigarette burns. You had laughed until you had cried, kissed him on the vivaciously on the mouth, sat through dozens of rowdy family dinners, shared coffee and pastry under the sleepy morning light - and now it felt as though a million years had passed.

You let him lead you inside. Keeping a safe distance and a wary eye as though he was an unpredictable stray dog that needed to be kept at arms length. He sensed your suspicion and ignored it, marching forward like a solider, pretending that your distrust didn’t make him feel awful. He hated to think of you on edge because of him, he hated how small it made him feel. He never wanted to be insignificant to you.

You noticed how bare it was in the hallway. Once upon a time the coat rack would have been filled with your furs and shawls, your pastel pink boots and his forever charcoal posh oxfords lined next to one another, a poignant reminder of their owners and the differences that you both shared.

It wasn’t just lack of your belongings, somehow the house seemed much emptier. It didn’t smell as worn as it usually did, the warmth of a recently lit fire didn’t dwell in the air and there were no keys or shoes by the front door. You knew that Mary kept a clean house, but this was something different, and a sour thought suddenly hit you.

“You haven’t been home much?” You tried to keep the jealousy out of your voice and remain level headed, but it was proving hard when you were feeling so nauseous at the thought of him sharing a bed with somebody else.

“Lot of late nights at the office.” He shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and wrapped it around a hanger, his icy blue eyes catching yours. “Home didn’t feel like home anymore.”

You didn’t miss the implication in his words, but you chose to ignore it.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“I thought I was here to sleep.”

“You are. But what kind of host would I be if I didn’t offer my guest a nightcap?”

You made a noise. Something halfway between a scoff and a huff.

“Tea? Whiskey?”

“No, I’m fine thank you.”

“What about hot chocolate? I still have some of that god awful strawberry stuff you love so much.”

Memories of sickly sweet strawberry kisses flash in your head. Images of Tommy wincing and groaning as if you had poisoned him. Belly laughs and pillow talk. All things you had tried so hard to forget.

“No. I don’t drink that anymore.”

He looked at you. There were no diamond chandeliers or dark corners or red velvet walls distorting your appearance, just the two of you stood opposite in the hallway of his mansion. He looked you up and down, not in a sleazy way, like the man at the bar who had so desperately wanted to get his hands under your dress but almost - longingly. There was something in his eyes. Swimming right in those ocean eyes was something you couldn’t quite make out, he opened his mouth to say something but before he could speak you heard the whine of the door above you.

“Mr Shelby! You’re back.” It was Mary, stood at the top of the stairs. Still dressed in her maids uniform despite the ungodly hour, she looked as pristine as ever, and you couldn’t think of a time you had seen the elderly woman without makeup on. She flew down the stairs, eager to offer Thomas anything she could, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she finally saw you.

“Miss (Y/L/N)!” She said, trying to control the shock in her voice. She hadn’t been there the day that you left, but it wouldn’t take a fool to guess what had happened between you and her boss. Just like you, she probably assumed you would never return to the Shelby house. After a moment she smiled kindly, regaining her composure after the initial shock. “It’s a pleasure to see you once again.”

“And you, Mary.”

“Oh! Mr Shelby I’ve made up your quarters and -” she stopped, realising what she was saying and she awkwardly shifted as she tried to change the subject. “Can I get you anything? Shall I bring you some tea? Or some wine?”

“Oh no. I’m fine thank you, really.”

“You know what Mary,” You heard Tommy say, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “Can you fix us some drinks? Whatever’s in the cupboards is fine. Oh, and bring us those chocolates Ada brought from New York. We’ll be in the sitting room.”

“Tommy - ” You started, but he was already gone, walking through his house with renewed energy, and you strained your ears to hear the sentences he called out over his shoulder.

“One drink. For old times sake.”

“Ugh. You’ll be the death of me, Shelby.”

———————————————————————

It should have been awkward. It should have been awkward and uncomfortable and painful - but it wasn’t.

He lit a fire, something about the yellow flames and the crackling wood soothing you like warm milk. You missed the feel of his sofas, the ones that cost such an outrageous price that it made your eyes water, and you sunk into the cushions far more easily than you liked. Mary had made your favourite drink, and the situation felt so familiar that it was ridiculous, but it was more ridiculous how good everything felt.

He was as charming as ever. Giving you those side eye glances and cheeky smiles as he spoke, asking about your family and telling you stories of the trouble his brothers had been in. He moved around the room in a blur of navy, because as God would have it tonight of all nights he was wearing your favourite blue suit, the one that made him look so beautiful and powerful.

He didn’t ask about work, and you were glad, because you weren’t ready to tell him yet.

Perhaps an hour passed, the two of you dancing around each other, neither one wanting to be the one that crossed the line first. Your mind was blurry but you knew that this had gone on too long, you needed to pull the plug before it was too late, but as always, Tommy got there first.

“It feels like fate.” He said, his voice so much warmer than it had been a few moments before.

“What does?”

“Running into you tonight.”

You scoffed. “Please. Tommy Shelby doesn’t believe in fate.”

“I didn’t. Not until I met you.”

Your whole body felt like it had been set alight. He knew just what to say to get you to curl around his little finger. He was watching you intently, moving forward so his elbows were on his knees, as though he was desperate to hear your reply. He was being honest, more so than he had been in a long time, but your mind was too filled with the past to give into his sweet words.

“So,” You said, knocking back the last dregs of your drink. “Are you just going to pretend it never happened?”

“What?”

“Cut the crap, Tommy.” You snarked. “You know what I mean.” A breathless laugh. “God, this is ridiculous. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Don’t say that.”

You rubbed your forehead, massaging away a migraine you could feel brewing. “I need to go to bed. I don’t want to get into all of this again.”

“(Y/N) - ”

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

You stood up and heard the sound of his glass of whisky hitting his red oak table. Your fingers touched the edge of the door handle, but he was pulling you backwards before you could leave. You were facing him, trying to keep your eyes away from his, not wanting to go falling into him the way your body desired.

“You might not want to talk but you can listen.” He said, so close to you that your noses were almost touching. You pursed your lips and squirmed like a child, but he raised an eyebrow and you huffed, letting him speak, his words shattering you like you were a sheet of ice.“Im still in love you.”

You bit your lip to stop from crying. The scab had been picked off, blood clotting down your ankles and onto the floor.

“Think I will be till the day I die. Even after.”

His words were so sincere and you wanted to believe them. You could feel him watching you, cornering you, willing you to say the words back, needing to hear the words fall from your lips.

You held up one finger, trying to stop him from speaking. “Don’t.”

“It’s true.”

You could feel the hot prickle of tears forming in your eyes, and the way your throat constricted like you’d been swallowing cotton balls.“Was this the plan all along? Invite me back, get me drunk and think I’ll crawl back into bed with you after you tell me a few lines?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I would never do that to you.”

He was angry. More so with himself, he’s always been in control, so articulate and calculated, but he was losing his grip on you, his knuckles turning white. He knew he made a mistake that night when he told you to leave, but his pride was too strong to do anything about it. Seeing you tonight had been more than just a coincidence, he knew that, and everything in him was screaming at him to fight for you.

“I miss you.” It ached for him to say it out loud, such a powerful man admitting that you were his weakness, that you bring him to his knees like he’s a child.

“I miss you too, Tommy, you know I do. But - ”

“I fucked up.”

“Tom.”

“I never should have let you leave.”

“We - Us - It’ll never - ” You couldn’t think let alone speak, all of your words twisting and tumbling from your mouth like loose marbles.

“We were a lot of things, but you can’t tell me that we aren’t supposed to be together.”

“I don’t want to talk about this... I can’t!”

“So let’s not talk.”

His lips met yours and you were on fire. The breath you didn’t know you were holding was knocked out of you by the force of his body on yours. His hands were all over you, checking you were real, feeling the curve and dip of your body the way his mind had conjured up in the dark in the months that you had been gone, he savoured you entirely, he devoured you.

“This isn’t - This isn’t right.” It was lie. Nothing felt more right. Your whole body ached and quivered for him, you wanted to breathe in his smell and run your fingers through his hair until they bled, but you also didn’t want to go down without a fight.

He knew you too well though.

“Stop it.” He had you backed up against the wall, his body pressed in between your thighs. He’d caged you in, one hand curling softly under your jaw, manipulating you so that you had no choice but to look right into his damn sea foam eyes. “Stop being so stubborn.”

“Stop being such a prick then.”

Lips on your neck. His hands all over you. Inhaling your perfume and the smell of your hair, digging his fingertips into your hip, a jolt of pain that you knew would leave a bruise. He captured your lips again, relishing in the way you felt under him, he was desperate for more, and he smiled cheekily when he heard you moan.

“I thought you wanted to go to sleep.” He teased, his voice was playful but he was struggling to keep his composure, he felt like his head was being held underwater, the pleasure teetering on pain.

“I hate you.” You said, gasping for air, feeling adrenaline and liquor and lust flow through you.

“No you don’t.”

You bit down on his plump bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. He winced slightly, and rolled his eyes, shoving you backwards into his bookcase, kissing you even harder. A few novels and a porcelain figurine fell to the floor, the small black horse shattering at your feet. He grumbled slightly, and you giggled into his neck. You bent down to try and collect the broken pieces but he swatted your hand away, kissing and sucking all across your neck and throat, wanting to mark his territory.

“Stop that. I don’t want you cutting yourself.” He muttered into your flesh, clasping your hands together and holding you by the wrists, refusing to let you do anything but melt into him - not that there was anything in the world you would rather be doing.

Slowly the kisses got softer, more tender, all across your collar and shoulders like raindrops. There was something methodical about it, almost poetic, like he was trying to savour the taste of your skin, and the way your body rippled under him. After a moment he stopped, his hands tangling into your hair, gripping you by your jaw, looking into your glossed out, wide eyes.

“I really fucking missed you. I’m sorry.”

You shuddered. “I know.”

“Tomorrow we’ll talk. Alright?” There are a million things he needed to say. A million things he needed you to know, but there was nothing more important to him at that moment than having you under him, letting his body show you all of the things he couldn't put into words. He needed you, all of you. His head was fucked and he needed the wash of calm you gave him, he needed to feel whole, the way that only you could make him.

“Tomorrow.” You whispered.

He nodded solemnly. Ducking his head and pressing your mouths together, hot and raw and heavy. You were sweeter than sugar, stronger than whisky and prettier than all of the stars in the sky, and he struggled to keep himself from buckling at the knees under your touch. The only thing that could stop him from moulding your bodies together were the sweet little words that left your lips, the ones that rang like a gospel in his ears.

“Take me to bed, Tommy.”

————————————————————

He broke it off three months prior.

You had been missing each other, your schedules hectic and mismatched, and it had been a good few weeks since you had spoken for more than a few stolen seconds over the telephone. Finally, like the sun parting through rain clouds, there was one weekend that was empty in both of your diaries and Tommy told you to expect a car outside of your flat one Friday afternoon.

A whole weekend. Two days and three nights spent with your beloved, it should have been a time filled with late nights and rumpled bedsheets, coffee in the morning and wearing nothing but his linen shirts and the pretty lilac underwear he loved so much - but it turned soon turned sour.

On Sunday you had been making rhubarb pie. Folding and rolling the pastry between your fingertips, listening to the birds whistling through the open window and the lull of soft jazz from the radio behind you.

He had taken a call. A sullen look falling over his face as soon as he answered the phone. He had shut himself in his study, and all you could hear was the deep rumble of his voice and the sound of his footsteps, and so you left him alone, and busied yourself with other things.

It had all been so wonderful. Riding his horses through the fields, reading books under his arm as he rifled through papers, stealing kisses that tasted like hard candies and peppermint. You'd forced him to relax, made him take a bubble bath with you, poured lavender and vanilla oil across his aching shoulders until he let out an involuntary moan, ran your fingers through his hair until his breath evened out and his eyes fluttered shut, finally feeling at peace next to the woman he loved.

You’d laughed and made love and kissed and danced and it had all be so perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

For 48 hours he had been yours. He wasn’t “Thomas Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders,” he had been your Tommy. You weren’t a fool, you knew that work was always the most important thing to him, that he lived and breathed for the company he had built from his two bare hands, his work ethic and brilliance was something you admired about him, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t sting when he slipped back into business mode.

It had been about an hour, and you were cleaning the counters, something soothing about finding the dark marble granite under the mess of flour. You knew that Mary would have a fit if she knew you were cleaning, but you enjoyed the normalcy it gave you. You heard him before you saw him, the sound of his matte leather brogues on the tile in the hallway, and you lifted your head when you felt his presence in the doorway.

“You need to leave.”

His tone was so sudden and blunt that it almost made you laugh, but one look at the sallowness of his skin and the intensity in his eyes made you straighten up. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Sabini.”

“What about him?”

“He knows - he fucking knows.”

He was being uncharacteristically agitated, and it sent a deep chill down your spine. You lurched forward, hands spread, wanting to carry some of his worry. “Knows what? Tommy, calm down.”

“He’s had men lurking outside your flat.”

“What?”

“One of the new boys spotted ‘em. Fucking filth have been there all weekend.”

You felt your heart sink to your stomach. Truthfully, whilst the thought of Sabini and his men watching you made your skin crawl, you were more worried by the way it seemed to have frazzled Tommy. You weren’t used to seeing him so... anxious, and that sent red hot warning signs to your brain.

Your relationship had never been a secret per se, but you never made it public. After a few months of rendezvous in hotels and bars up and down the country, and Tommy realising his feelings for you were much more than just lust - he laid everything out bare. He told you he wanted you. But he also told you what the consequences of hanging off his arm were. You knew the risks, knew what chaos his love could bring, but you were falling so deeply that none of it mattered to you. You weren’t stupid, and Tommy did everything in his power to keep you safe, and the two of you found a mellow middle ground, a place where you could be happy and young and in love, without all of the mayhem.

“Well - it’s alright. I’m here. I’m safe aren’t I? He was probably just scoping the place out, he probably thought you were there and - ”

You were rambling, and most of what you were saying was untrue. You both knew the reason that Sabini was there, it was a message, a warning. A threat to Tommy that he could take away his weakness with one snap of his slimy little fingers.

You shrugged off your apron, and stepped towards him, shaking your head. “We knew that one day this would happen. That people would find out, it’s not your fault Tom.”

“We were stupid. We were reckless.”

“And what? We were supposed to just stop living our lives in case somebody saw us?”

“Not just somebody. Somebody who could fucking kill you.”

“Tommy.”

“You need to leave.”

“Listen to me -”

“I’ll get Bernard to drive you to the station. Your friend...” He paused momentarily, trying to remember a name he had heard in passing. “Sarah? She still lives in Manchester doesn’t she? You’ll stay with her till I’ve sorted this out.”

You scoffed, your eyes the size of dinner plates.“I’m not leaving.” You tried to make him see sense, but you were having a hard time keeping your voice levelled. “I’ve got work, Tom. I can’t just up and leave.”

He ignored you. You could see his brain whirring a mile a minute, the wheels inside his mind frantically looking for a solution. You marched over to him, forcing him to look at you. “I’m not scared.”

“Well then you’re a fool.”

“Am I? For not running at the first sign of danger?”

“Don’t fucking start with me. Not about this. This isn’t some fucking game.”

“I never said it was, Tom. But what? I’m supposed to hide out in another fucking city until all of this settles down.”

“Stop being so fucking difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult. I know what I signed up for, we both did. We knew this would happen eventually.”

“And now that is has - we have to be smart.”

“Not everything in life is a business deal.”

“What would you know about that?”

It was a low blow. Something that struck you like a winning punch to the gut, you stepped back from the impact, shaking your head and pursing your lips. You’ll let him brew in his anger, let him get worked up and pissed off, and you’ll wait for his apology in a few days, something expensive and designer showing up at your front door, his way of saying “I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

“You know what? I’m leaving. Call me in a few days when you get your head fucking screwed back on. We can talk then.”

“No.”

It came out strangled, like the word sliced the inside of his throat when he said it.

“What?”

“You need to stay away. We need to end this.”

“End this?” You scoffed. “What? Like we’re just a business deal?”

“It’s not safe, and I can’t do anything that’s going to jeopardise the company.”

“The fucking company?” You were furious, your body stinging with hurt, feeling betrayal wash over you like sour milk. “How - How dare you!”

“I think it’s best if we spend some time apart.”

“So this is it then? You’ll throw away everything just because some fucking man has been looking around corners?” His silence made you more enraged, and you willed him to fight back. Fight for you. “Do you want me to leave? Do you want me to go, Tom?”

Silence.

And then - “It’s not safe.”

“Fuck you.���

That was the last thing you had said to him. Three words replaced with two that shattered around the room like an earthquake. You had tears in your eyes, and you rushed upstairs to pack your things, your heart breaking into sharp little pieces inside of you. He could hear the start of your sobs, the ones you tried so hard to muffle with your hand and he truly fucking hated himself. He gripped the marble above the fireplace and steadied his breathing, pushing out any thoughts of the weekend. He willed himself to shove away the happy memories, the sound of your laugh and the smell of your skin, the way he didn’t hear the shovels when you were beside him, safe and warm in his arms.

He needed to do what he did best, regain control and protect those he cared about, and right at the fucking top of the list was you. Any niggles of rationality and guilt telling him that pushing you away was wrong quickly turned to ash in his mind, he was certain that this was the right thing to do, despite the way that it really fucking hurt. He had to keep you safe. Men like him didn’t get to have nice things like you.

So he shut the door to his office, muffling the sound of you rummaging around upstairs, a part of you wishing and hoping that he would open the door and kiss you and apologise, and instead he picked up the phone, and went back to work.

———————————————————————

You woke up to sunlight painting your skin, and an empty bed, the silk sheets in disarray and bundled beside your bare body.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Like an ice cold bucket of water dropping over your head, you remembered every detail of what had happened overnight. Your skin relived the feeling of hands and fingertips and oh god, tongue dragging all across you, branded into your memory like a burn. It was the best nights sleep you had gotten in a long time, and the bed was so warm and soft and smelling like sin that you struggled to even lift your head from the pillow to check the time.

Mid morning.

You hadn’t slept in this long for a while, and you knew the reason why. Head slightly pounding from too much alcohol and adrenaline, you crawled out of bed, washing the remnants of last nights makeup from your face and pulling on your crumpled dress and stockings that had been haphazardly flung over the furniture. Your heart lurched a little when you freshened up in the bathroom and noticed your toothbrush still in the holder on the sink, right next to his.

You could hear cluttering downstairs and followed the noise, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, unable to stop the small smile that the sight gave you. He had evidently sent Mary on an errand, something far away so he could make you both breakfast in peace, away from prying eyes. He looked so boyish, so domestic, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, nimble fingers turning the bacon on the pan, his hair mussed from sex and sleep. It made you feel like you had swallowed a match. Your whole body alight from seeing him so gentle and vulnerable, so bare for just you to see.

Thomas Shelby whisking eggs and squeezing oranges, barefoot in his own kitchen, the sight rarer than a unicorn, and you were the only person who ever got close enough.

“Hi.” It left your mouth awkwardly and rolled off your tongue like an ice cube.

“Morning.” He turned and smiled, his lazy eyes trawling the length of your body. You hadn’t noticed it, but he felt a flicker of hurt that you were in your own clothes, a part of him wanting and hoping that you would be in one of his shirts, something that he loved much more than he could comprehend. He shook his head, willing the thoughts away. “It’ll be done soon. I think I’ve burnt the toast though, and probably added too much salt to the eggs.”

You smiled thinly, the light not reaching your eyes. This was all too much, all too soon. He was here and he was beautiful and you were right at the frontline, ready to get your heart broken all over again.“Last night,” You cleared your throat, as though the words were lodged deep inside. “It was a mistake.”

He didn’t blink, cool stare focused on the meal he was preparing, long fingers methodically slicing and dicing, as though your words didn’t make his heart thump against his rib cage. He didn’t like it, not one bit, the way that it sounded as though you regretted the time you had spent together. He never wanted you to feel like that, like the intimacy you had shared was something crude, as though you were a one night stand of a drunken fuck at a bar, this was so much more than that. This was love.

But Tommy liked holding his cards to his chest, and it was much easier to tease you then tell the truth.

“It didn’t feel like a mistake. You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

You scoffed, hating his cockiness yet knowing that he was obviously right. “Don’t be a twat, Tommy.”

The ghost of a smile on his face, if you had blinked you might have missed it, but you were always the best person at reading him - the only person he had let close enough to see him, flaws and all. He always liked when you bickered with him, his little firecracker. He didn’t tolerate just anyone speaking to him the way you did, but he would let you get away with bloody murder and he couldn’t deny that it didn’t bring a flush to his cheeks when you got particularly feisty.

You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off, his hands full with cutlery and plates filled with slap up breakfast foods, and you couldn’t deny that your mouth was watering.

“Eat first. We’ll talk later.”

You let out a sound halfway between a huff and a groan but caved in, clambering into the seat he had pulled open for you and piling your fork high. He watched you with a smile, the way you looked so young and pretty and angelic in the morning light, no makeup on and eyes still drowsy with sleep, like some kind of Renaissance painting he wanted to hang above his fireplace and stare at whenever things got rough.

He filled the silence with small talk, noting the weather and a story about one of John’s kids hiding a puppy in her room for almost a week without anyone noticing. You listened as best as you could, but you were distracted by the palomino mare you could see grazing in the fields behind his house, and something was prickling at your skin like brambles.

You cleared your throat, acting as nonchalant as you could muster. “Emma tells me that May Carlton is training your new mare.” Your knife sliced through your yolk, rich butter yellow bleeding across your plate. You tried to keep your voice steady, but you could feel the thickness in your throat as you remembered how it hurt like a bullet wound when your best friend had told you of his new associate. “I hear she is quite beautiful.”

“Yes, I suppose she is.” He murmured, cutting the edge of fat from his bacon. “But she’s nothing compared to you.”

You tried to pretend that his words didn’t make you swoon, and he tried to hide how much he loved it when you got jealous, something about the fire in your eyes making him want to push you up against a wall and kiss you till you couldn’t talk.

He paused, a coy smile on his lips. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?”

You scoffed. “Well, it’s only fair. What with all those Blinders following me. Can’t even go to the bloody shops without one watching me.”

So you had noticed. He had half been expecting a blazing call where you yelled at him for having men watch over you, and it had left a hole of disappointment in his gut when it never came.

“You know I would never let you be unprotected.”

“I know.”

Your eyes met, a wave of warm affection washed over the both of you, but you pulled your gaze back quickly, focusing your attention anywhere else.

“You should come and watch her.”

You froze, wondering if Tommy had just invited you to spend the day with May Carlton, you were sure that would be one evening that would end in blood and tears.

“The mare.” He said, picking up at your uncomfortableness and biting back a smile. “We’ve called her ‘Wicked Gypsy’, and she is brilliant. I reckon she could win the whole bloody thing.”

You liked how passionate he got when he talked about horses. Liked the way that he seemed to light up like a child, despite all the finery and bravado, you liked knowing that the little boy inside of him was still there, hidden deep, deep down, but still there. You were too busy being captivated by him that it took you a moment to realise that he had asked you to join him at the races.

You wanted nothing more, you truly wanted nothing more than to be his girl again. Cradled under his arm, dressed in lace and fur, his lips pressed to the heat of your throat, sweet little words whispered in your ear, a hand tight and possessive around your waist - but it just wasn’t that easy.

You sighed, crossing your cutlery. “Tom. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I want you there. I need my good luck charm.”

“Tommy, after everything. I don’t think we should.”

Firmer now, he looks at you, emphasising his point.“I need you there. When she wins, I need my best girl to be right by my side.”

He was so slippery. So sickly sweet that you could drown in him, struggle to move in the molasses that dripped from his tongue. He was dangerous, carnal fire and sin, but he wasn’t lying, he needed you, really fucking needed you.

You exhaled, thinking things through, and massaging the migraine brewing in your temples. He could see you trying to think of an excuse, another lie about how you’re bad for each other, but he got there first, not wanting to hear it.

“I’ll have a car pick you up on Friday.” He turned his hands so his palms were facing the ceiling, eyebrows raised playfully, “Or... maybe you can stay here the night. You know you’re welcome.”

Always so bloody charming. But you can’t stop the tsunami of thoughts, the mistakes of the past. “What is this, Tommy? What are we doing?”

“I fucked up. I never should have let you go.”

“But you did. And - I don’t want to get hurt all over again.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“You always do.”

You words stung him worse than if you had slapped him across the face, and he had to take a moment to swallow the sour taste that had been swimming across his tongue. He reached his hands out, clasping them with yours, so large and warm and safe, and he spoke with intensity.

“Just - Come with me, Friday. Please. I can’t do this without you.”

Friday. Suddenly it was no longer about slipping up or falling back in love and wondering what your friends might think when you told them, it was about something else that you needed to tell him.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Leaving where?” His tone was one of disbelief, his eyes sizing you up, wondering if this was some kind of elaborate excuse.

You sighed, taking your hands away from under his, noticing the lack of warmth immediately. “To Oxford. Peggy transferred me to the company over there.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because I asked her to.”

“You did what?”

You could see him thinking, wondering how none of his boys had found out this priceless piece of information that makes him want to throw his expensive fucking china at the wall.

“I did it all through work. Emma’s the only one who knew. I’m getting the train Wednesday night.”

He stood up so quickly his chair squealed across the wood floor, his mouth agape. “So what? You’re just going to leave?”

“There’s nothing here for me.”

He pointed one finger at you, scolding you like a child. “Don’t say that.”

You narrowed your eyes, shaking your head. “It’s true isn’t it? Why should I waste more time on this stupid cat and mouse game?”

“Is that all this is to you? A game?”

“You left me. For three months I was completely alone! What happens when something comes up, huh? How do I know that you won’t leave me all over again?” It was hard to keep the emotion from your voice, hard not to show just how badly the impact of those three months had been. “We need this! Some...some fucking space. Maybe being a few cities away will be good.”

It was a lie. Nothing sounded worse, but you had to say your piece because god knows you can’t keep holding everything in.

His voice was frayed, split like the hairs in an old rope. “Don’t. Don’t give me space. That’s the last thing I want from you.”

His words and his actions never lined up, and it made your blood boil. All of the anger you had turned into tears had remoulded into red hot rage, and you slammed your hands down on his expensive counter tops, flesh on marble ringing around the kitchen. “So then why did you let me go? Why did you tell me to leave?”

“Because I thought that was best for you!”

“You aren’t the one who gets to decide that!”

“Everything I do. Everything I fucking do - is to protect you.”

“Don’t say that. Protecting me isn’t making me leave, and then not speaking to me for three fucking months.”

You could see the click in his jaw, the vein in his throat throbbing. “You knew what you signed up for when you met me.”

“No, actually, I don’t think I did.”

It was true. You expected late nights, days of no contact, blood staining your bathroom counter and men watching your every move. You expected fights and make ups, going to the races in your finery and then walking down the shit filled streets of Small Heath, but you never expected that he would just leave you the way he did.

He was breathless, trying to control the rise and fall of his chest and the way that his fingers clenched. He never thought that you would leave, he had some fucked up feeling that you would always come back to him, that the two of you would always end up on the same ship, drifting along the same ocean. It was maddening. He had tasted you once again, had you under him, his girl reduced to putty in his hands. It had all made sense, the night seemed to be sweeter and the stars a little brighter and his lungs a little looser when you were next to him. It had all felt so right, and now you were going to leave.

He put it down to exasperation at not being in control anymore, the fact that he was watching you slip between his fingers once again like grains of sand, and so he said the worst thing he thought of, something that he knew would rip through you like a shot to the heart.

“Well at least I got one last fuck eh? That was all you were really any good for anyway.”

He could hear it immediately, the sound of the bullet leaving the gun, or perhaps that’s your heart shattering in two. He regretted it, he regretted it so badly that he wished he could pull the words back down his throat and swallow them like they were poison.

Your eyes watered but you didn’t let him see you cry. Your mouth opened and then closed not wanting to waste your breath on a reply, not wanting to hurt him the way he’d hurt you. You didn’t bother with a reply, not trusting yourself enough to talk, only wanting to be alone to like your wounds in peace. So you turned and left, last nights heels echoing through the hallway, the sound of the front door creaking open and slamming shut, silence falling once again.

Tommy pushed the plates off the table.

—————————————————————————-

Wednesday night and you were listening to your favourite record, something to distract you from the suitcase you were packing. Since the fight you hadn’t heard from Tommy, the first thing you’d packed had been your phone, pulling it off the wall as soon as you got home, not wanting to be on edge waiting for his call.

You didn’t allow yourself the time to wallow, refused to let yourself be beaten up by the words he had said, the ones that hung around your head like dead files. You hated that you let him speak to you that way, and you also hated that you missed him with every bone in your body.

Lilac, sapphire and emerald green. You threw your clothes together, watching the colours fade into a blur. You hadn’t packed anything he had given you, but you didn’t want to throw them out either and so they sat in a lonely purgatory in your wardrobe; a little gift to the next tenant.

You knew who was there the second the doorbell rang. Well, rang three times. The sound so shrill and violent that you tipped your head back in frustration. You considered leaving him outside in the summer rain, but soon the rings were switched with incessant knocking, your door surely about to break from the weight of his fists.

“Fucking hell.” You seethed, dropping your shoes onto the floor and stepping over the piles of toiletries stacked in the hallway. “Fuck you, Tom.”

You wanted to say those three words to him as soon as you opened the door, hoping your eyes reflected the anger bubbling inside of you, but he cut you off with a sigh of relief.

“Thank fuck you’re still here.”

“Not for long.”

You tried to shut the door, you really did, but he pushed past and into your flat with little effort.

“Get out, Tom. Now.”

He spun round to face you, and you finally got a good look at him. He looked rough, frazzled almost. His hair messy and his shirt ruffled and his eyes were mostly white, frantically watching your face.

“I fucked up. I fucked everything up.”

“You came all this way just to tell me that?”

“I should have followed you sooner. I should have followed you the second you walked through that door.”

You quirked an eyebrow in challenge. “Which time?”

He spread his hands out, biting down on his tongue. “Don’t go. Don’t leave.”

You sighed, kicking a stray shampoo bottle with your feet, something to fill the emptiness that surrounded you. “I’ve made up my mind.”

He moved one step closer and you moved one step back. “Is this what you really want?”

“We can’t always get what we want.”

“That’s bullshit.”

You threw your hands up in despair. “I’m not doing this with you now, Tommy. My train leaves in an hour and I have my first day tomorrow and I don’t want to fuck it all up.”

“If it’s what you really want, then you should go. But don’t leave if it’s all because of me.”

You scoffed. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself.”

“And I’m not going to let you go without telling you that I love you. I really fucking love you.”

“Tommy.” It’s a warning. It’s a threat. But it hangs between you both, lingering in the air like smoke.

“I know you love me too. I know you do. I also know that I’m a massive twat who fucked everything up, but I’m not letting you get away, not again.”

You're exasperated. His words like honey, but you’re scared that that’s all they are, and you’re more scared that they might be so much more. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because I’m telling the truth. I don’t care about anything. Nothing matters to me more than you. I don’t care if Sabini has men outside my house every fucking night, you’re only safe with me, and I can only do this with you by my side.”

“Talk is cheap.”

“If I have to spend every day proving how much you mean to me then I will. I can’t - I can’t be without you.”

He was so close to you. Your noses almost touching, the hair on your arms and your spine sticking up, something electric about him. You want to hate him but you can’t. Not when he’s standing in your dimly lit hallway, looking dishevelled and beautiful and dare you say, broken. The edge of his jawline caught the light, shimmering like a jewel, and the pools in his eyes were so sincere and so deeply blue that you wanted to fall right into them.

Were you going to do this? Were you going to let him in again? You thought of everything - rain splattered kisses, dancing under the pale moonlight, sour whisky in the corner of his office. You thought of all of the chaos, all of the blood, all of the family arguments and shouting that echoed around his manor. You thought of all the tears you had shed, all the times your throat had been raw and your heart shattered into pieces. You thought of strawberry fields and his hand in yours, laughing with his brothers until you couldn’t breathe, the way that he felt and smelt and spoke like home.

It had been bad, but it was also the best thing you had ever been a part of.

You sighed loudly, clicking your tongue, meeting him somewhere in the middle. “Fuck. I’m never going to get my deposit back.”

His whole body trembled, relief coming from every pore, and he made a vow to go to Church with Pol on Sunday and thank whoever was listening for getting you back. “Well you’re moving in with me so there’s nothing to worry about.”

You rolled your eyes, his large hands wrapping around your jaw, making you look at him. He smelt like woodsmoke and peppermint, like a million bad decisions and the tang of a smoking barrel. It took everything in you to not buckle at the knees and let him carry you like a child.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He cradled your face, hoping his words came off as strongly out loud as they did in his head. He’s not going to fuck up again, but even he can’t stop his brain from short circuiting at the sight of you, so pretty with your doe eyes and raspberry lips, the skin on your throat just begging for the tug of his teeth.

You buried your head in his chest when he pulled you close, your words muffled through the cotton of his shirt. “If you ever speak to me like that again I’ll rip your fucking balls off.”

A soft smile, one that washes over him like warm candlelight. “I know.”

He’s not letting you go, not again. You’re a fucking part of him, like the blood that runs through his veins and the steady thump of his chest, you’re a part of his body, the reason why he can breathe and run and love. You’re the thing that stops the tremor in his hands, the thing that makes him so unshakeable, so tough and in control.

He had something to fight for.

And only knowing that you’re by his side, safe and warm and pressed into the crook of his body, does he finally allow himself to exhale.

[planet4546b]

hiiii bestie i would love to hear some explanations on some fave parts of that playlist that youre particularly proud of.. spoiler free or not your choice..

OMG hi sam thank you for enabling to talk about music.......theres a lot of parts of this playlist that i think are SUPER fun which means it got long so ill put it under a cut

hands down my favorite part of the WHOLE is actually the very first song being rounds by the oh hellos, which looks completely out of place but is INCREDIBLY plot relevant for a reason that i will keep secret for now. but i promise its so fucking cool

blessed are the peacemakers of red dead fame represents the first leg of the journey when it's just samira on her own as she heads from her spire to a small coastal town to the west, but by leaving her spire she's essentially doomed this town already. so very good sorta ominous traveling vibes. storm king by big tree directly after it is also part of the same vibes (my first autumn away from home/since i went away for good + no driving to storm king this year/ i give instead my stern appeal)

joan of arc by arcade fire is at the center of a whole segment thats sort of the earliest part of all 4 of them traveling together when things are still pretty decent, and represents the other threes completely misplaced faith in samira at the beginning. it's the start of a WHOLE cycle of conflict between the whole group that centers around sam's leadership and her pretending she knows what she's doing at all (which she doesn't) so joan of arc is half what's happening then and half foreshadowing in a fun way

the chunk below is the first big reveal of the story, when they essentially get to the place they've been traveling to the whole time and start to realize a few things about the nature of the coming apocalypse and the world they're in. it's a lot of instrumental, but infiltration and exfiltration bookend their journey into a now-defunct spire (represented by catchpole station, at the start of the playlist sam's tower was represented by the song catbird station also off the oxenfree soundtrack) and realize both why spires are becoming defunct and what exactly the coming apocalypse is (vignette visions, which is delightfully eerie and a good mix of ambient and these really intense synth hits and alignment which has. startlingly relevant lyrics). ghosts in the static, night zombies, and the universe is going to catch you are the (very literal to the song name ghost in the static) aftermath of this sequence

two scenes san fermin into proximity night in the woods is where the story truly starts to collapse - two scenes (which im interpreting by vibes and not exact lyrics) is where two stories that have essentially been being shown at the same time throughout the story despite the fact one of them happened nearly 200 years ago begin to sort of collapse into each other (the eponymous 2 scenes lol), and it also represents a real tension between the goals of the various members of the group (these goals are the other two scenes, essentially), which reaches a breaking point at proximity when the group splits up. followed up by coda: a burn scar by los campesinos, with the relevant lyric 'i can't believe you choose the mountains every time i chose the sea'.

from the sea to the land by sea power is in the middle of the next journey they go on when they get back together (sam makes some BIG fucking mistakes and essentially says ok like for real this time if we dont do something were fucked i know youre all mad at me but) and the vibes of this journey are waaaaay different and i think the trumpets in this song are a pretty good marker of that vibe. this song is just so gorgeous

the goose and the wren by hop along has always been a HUGELY important song for this project, and it gets put riiiiiight before the climax kicks off. sort of a reflection of where we've been so far and one final bit of desperation before the finale section

the finale section starts with approching the shimmer from the annihilation soundtrack and goes through the end of the playlist!!! (my fave part of the annihilation soundtrack is the alternating use of synths and guitar, and the only other song from the soundtrack on here is the watchtower, a more guitar heavy one thats at the start which i think is fun). both for spoiler reasons and because i dont totally know what will happen i cant talk about this bit tooooo specifically but i really love this little instrumental sequence thats the true climax and is all bangers. despite the 3 songs named for mountains this part does take place in a cave. the little piano bit at the end of castaways is one of my fave parts of the outer wilds soundtrack and here it represents a very similar thing to what it does in that game so <3

theres only 3 garages songs on this playlist and one of them does get to be in the finale segment (after the part above by a few songs) i wonder who for a long long time could be about 🤔🤔🤔

the very last three songs on the playlist are road to hell 2 from hadestown, the beach (7am) from oxenfree, and what happens now from interstellar. road to hell 2 is SPECIFICALLY for that 'to know how it ends/and still begin to sing it again/as if it might turn out this time' because thats the line of all time and also because. well things get a little weird towards at the end of s/n. on the same note, the beach (7am) represents a similar thing to what it reflects at the end of oxenfree (like i said we're getting weird) and what happens now is sort of literal to the title!!! also because its a gorgeous fucking song to end on.

thanks again for the question bestie i love MUSIC and my ocs and i had a lot of fun with this playlist <33

[possiblypeachy]

Helloo, so i loooved your last sam drake fic. & I wanted to ask you if you could write a really angsty fanfic about sam with a younger female reader, like 20 years younger (she would be 23) ? I know its a huge age gap so if that makes you uncomfortable you can leave it out but make it hella angsty still (with a fluffy ending) ? thanks in advance ❤

btw im an infp too ;)

infps rise up!! 

thank you muchly for the request! i had to make some interesting google searches for this and i always count that as a win in my book!

y’know when your brain feel like a static TV? yeah, that happened to mine while writing this so i apologise in advance if this is in no way what you asked for :( HOWEVER i do hope you enjoy nonetheless! i do love sam; he’s just a little bastard :,)

warning: this details a heavy injury + a hospital trip so please don’t read on it that makes you feel horrible or anything! also, the reader is younger than same (as requested) but it’s not a like huge aspect of the plot.

if others like this too, feel free to request something from me! 

― ❊ ―

You had always been interested in the hidden corners of the world. For a species that boasted about being the most intelligent, humans knew so achingly little about the world in which they lived. So, when you decided adventure called to you more than any kind of degree could, you put out a few ads in a couple of places and a certain Drake wrote back, enlisting your help with… artefact recovery. You hadn’t expected so many gunfights or bruises or those dreaded mosquitos but you certainly didn’t regret the job, coming away with a few pirate-branded gold coins and a 40-something-year-old partner-in-crime.

You probably could’ve set up for life with those coins alone-- lived a quiet life in a suburb somewhere, joined a dating app and found the love of your life, adopted a puppy, maybe-- but when Sam had called you a month or so after your Madagascan escapade, that same excitement in his voice that you’d become so accustomed to, you didn’t even need a few days to consider before asking him when the next flight was.

Now, to say that going on this rodeo was a good idea could’ve been a lie; you were still young and sprightly, and many would beg (if they even got the chance) for you to reconsider-- oh, but you have such a long life ahead of you, why are you taking it for granted?

Screw them. You’d seen more beautiful things in the past year than they would in their entire lives. So what if you had a couple of scars and scrapes to prove it; it simply adds character.

Well… perhaps this particular scrape would change your perspective on that.

You and Sam had encountered one of those forsaken puzzle things; a series of statues and corresponding paintings behind them. Each held a dagger and held their hand out to shake, a conniving little smirk etched into the grey stone. You had been so achingly confident of the answer-- nothing had gone wrong so far and you were feeling chipper. So, when you called out to Sam that you’d solved it before him, that cocky little quirk to your lips that made him huff out a laugh and shake his head, you didn’t expect his face to drop so quickly, eyes darting from your smile to your abdomen.

There was a sudden, burning pain, and you lurched forwards toward the statue, placing one hand on its shoulder to keep yourself upright. Everything seemed to blur when you looked down, the jewelled dagger now withdrawing from your gut covered in blood. The statue looked as if it had never moved, if you discounted the bloodied weapon it held and the small pool that had accumulated at the base of it. Your free hand, shaking, came down to try to stop yourself from bleeding, fingers almost immediately red and warm. “Sam--” His name was coughed out, the tension it caused making you cry out in pain.

He had seen your smile drop, your eyes widen, the blood bloom across your shirt. He had watched the statue withdraw, that grin it held now dangerous. Oh, fuck. This couldn’t be happening. Sam had promised everyone-- he had promised you that nothing like this would happen. Of course he had fucked it. 

He was already there. He had been there immediately but, beyond the pain and shock, you hadn’t realised. “Holy shit! (Name)?” His hand came to your shoulder and, at the contact, you nearly crumpled, as if his touch had brought you back to reality. Unfortunately, along with that came the more acute realisation of how much fucking pain you were in.

“Oh, fuck! God--” You curled over and vomited. Fuck, it hurt. The movement made you grab at your wound more, muscles trying to tense but just searing with pain instead. Lifting your arm to wipe your mouth felt so much more difficult, lethargy already settling in it seemed.

Sam muttered something to himself, tucking his shoulder under yours and using his arm to help keep you propped up. “We’ll be alright-- you’ll be alright. We just have to get back to the car and--” he cut off, swearing, at least you thought; everything sounded like it was underwater-- muffled and slowed. 

You let your head drop a little, face contorted in pain with each step you took. This wasn’t supposed to happen-- this was never supposed to happen. These trips were meant to be all beautiful vistas and treasure. You didn’t mind the occasional gunfight and, while being punched square in the nose didn’t feel great, you’d let it happen more if only to walk into more of these preserved pieces of history all over the globe. But, this? Fuck this. You should’ve been more prepared.

“Everyone said--” you groaned again and, when you were finally able to muster the strength to look at Sam, he glanced down at you with such panic in his eyes that it almost made your chest churn more than your stomach, “They said this shit would be bad for me.” The laugh you gave was painful and you regretted it immediately, stumbling over your own feet when you tried to hold your abdomen-- as if that would provide some kind of relief. It did not. 

Sam furrowed his brows, moving you slightly to make sure you didn’t slip from his grip. “No, no-- it’s alright! You still got life in you.” He tried to laugh but it didn’t sound like him and that just made you spiral a little faster. “There are still places that are out there waiting for you, okay?” Sam’s voice was rushed, like he was torn between trying to comfort you and just trying to get you both the fuck out of here. 

The light of the outside was blinding, the sun bright and unyielding overhead. Sam fumbled with the keys in his back pocket and then there were the telltale beeps of a car being unlocked. The sound made him flinch but you were beyond that, wanting more than anything to just sleep. It was hard to focus on anything else, actually.

Sam bundled you into the back seat and you groaned at the way your body had to twist and curve into the backseat. Every breath hurt; it was like reliving the injury each time you inhaled. Your hand was blood-covered now but your shaking had died down. It took too much energy to shake-- Hell, it took way too much to even lift your eyelids again after each blink. 

When the driver’s door slammed, you jolted slightly-- like someone had dragged you out of the very early stages of sleep. “Sam,” you began, voice quiet; it was as though you were in another universe entirely, “are we gonna…” you trailed off, forgetting where you were. It was strange: you felt like the pain was subsiding. It was almost… peaceful. 

The car lurched into motion and you saw him glance at you through the rearview mirror. You thought he might’ve been saying something to you, his free hand reaching back to get your attention. Black encroached on your vision and your head lolled backwards briefly but you pulled it forward again soon after as though it were attached to some kind of bungee rope. Is this what dying felt like? 

Maybe you were okay with this. It was calm-- quiet, even. It was almost like the pain had become an afterthought-- a dull thrum in your abdomen. You would miss this, though: the adventures. You would miss the fact that everything seemed more colourful in other countries. You would miss the sweet tang of sea air and how free you felt on the open sea. Despite the blur in your vision, you tried to focus on Sam and his helpless mumbling. Tears welled in your eyes. God, you would miss him too. 

The next time you blinked, your eyes stayed closed.

---

A steady beeping woke you up. That and a horrible white light beating against your eyelids. You tried to groan but even that was difficult with how… disused your voice felt. A chair creaked to your right and then--

“(Name)?” 

It was him.

“Sam…” Trying to sit up was like an instinct but a hand came to your shoulder to keep you down. It was then that you finally opened your eyes, pupils struggling against the light. “Did you find the treasure?”

He breathed out a laugh-- almost like relief. “If you count shitty hospital coffee and the most uncomfortable chair ever as treasure, then yes.”

Your brows furrowed. “Hospital?” The strain on your voice made you cough. This was a bad reflex on your part. An ache flared up again in your lower stomach, and your arm flew there to support the injury. Now, everything was starting to come back. “Ah, shit. I remember. God.”

Beside you, his lips pursed. “Yeah. Almost got bested by a statue, honey.”

You gave him a look and he smiled. Despite his words, the normalcy of it all was comforting. “I may be bed-ridden but I’ll still hit you, old man.” There it was: that smile of yours. He struggled to even feign offence with how relieved he felt at seeing it. In fact, if your eyes weren’t deceiving you, he might’ve welled up a little. “Sam?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” He rubbed his face before leaning onto your bed. “I was just worried, is all.”

He looked like he had done more than worried; the dark around his eyes told you of that. Quiet fell over you for a few moments and Sam took to rubbing your leg over the array of hospital blankets piled atop you. It was nice, comforting, and for a time you just allowed yourself to be. 

That was until he swallowed loudly-- nervously-- and withdrew his hand. “(Name), I, uh--” he cleared his throat-- not because he needed to but just so he could have a couple more seconds to think about what he was going to say, “I’ve been thinking about what happened, and I know that you’d disagree, but I’m not sure you should--”

You groaned as you shifted yourself up the bed, cutting him off. You knew what he was going to say: that you shouldn’t come on the next trip with him. That would turn into only the occasional call between the two of you, asking about his most recent escapades-- if had any spots open on the crew next time, to which he would decline. Then, there would only be texts-- a barren waste of white space between messages and timestamps that began to highlight the weeks and months between each text. “Don’t, Sam.” His brows furrowed and you pointed a finger at him, accusing. “I know what you’re going to say and I’m not going to listen to you.”

He pursed his lips briefly then pinched the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. “You could’ve died. You can’t just fuckin’ die--” he leant forward so his ranting wouldn’t disturb any other hospital dwellers, “You can’t die yet; you’re-- what?-- twenty-three?”

“Oh, fuck off, Sam! I’m not a child; I can handle myself!”

In one gesture towards your injury, he had messed up. “Obviously fuckin’ not!”

Silence. Your mouth was agape and he flinched back immediately. For how many times people told Sam to think before he spoke, he hadn’t seemed to have learnt. When the words settled in, you leant away from him, back into the cushions behind you. “I think you should go.”

He blinked once. And, then again. “What?”

You couldn’t even look at him. “Get out. I’ll call a nurse if i need help since I obviously can’t look after myself--”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, (Name)--”

“How did you fucking mean it then, Sam?” He stood from the chair and it creaked-- the only noise in the room. You didn’t even want to give him the chance to give an excuse. “Or, am I too much of a child to understand what you mean?” In the middle of his pacing, he turned to face you, simply staring despite your ceaseless ranting. “Sorry that I’m such a huge fucking inconvenience to you! It’s not like the same kind of shit has ever happened to you or anything, huh?” He watched as your eyes began to well, face etched with frustration and betrayal, words spat out of your mouth like they put a bad taste there.

He had to cut you off or else you would carry on; you shouldn’t feel like this right after… everything that happened. God, he was such a dick. He shouldn’t have brought this up-- not now at least-- and now look at you: almost crying because of him in a hospital bed thank to stab wound that you got because of him and-- “I don’t want you to get hurt again because I fuckin’ care about you, (Name), okay?” It was his turn to rant now and your turn to stare at him. “And-- and, I have no idea what I would do with myself if you-- if you had fuckin’--” the noise he made was a mix between a sigh and growl, like he was annoyed at himself, then he leant against the end of your bed. A few moments passed; you didn’t know if you were supposed to say something to him during this or not but all you could fathom doing was to just stare at him, dumbfounded. Then, he breathed out a simple: “I’m sorry. For being a dick.”

You swallowed, gaze flickering away from him briefly. Then, you huffed out a laugh-- a terrible mix of amusement and disbelief. “Glad you can recognise it, Sam.” He blinked at you, then shook his head; that certainly wasn’t the response he expected. Something more biting-- venomous--perhaps, but not that. You gestured back to the seat that he had pulled up beside you and, with some degree of caution, he sat down again. You held out a hand and he took it, rubbing a thumb over the underside of it, touch light on your skin. “You can’t prove that this isn’t the painkillers speaking but,” it hurt to lean closer to him but you thought he was worth it-- even with the deer-in-headlights look he had, “I care about you too.”

It was then that he smiled-- grinned, even-- and you finally heard him laugh again. “Oh, I’m definitely holding that against you, (Name).”

“Will you hold this against me, too?” You pulled your hand away from his, only to place it on his face instead, thumb tracing a line over his cheek. His eyes flickered down to your lips, obviously unsure on if he should close the gap, that worry still bubbling in his lower stomach that he was daydreaming again. So, you did instead, the ache in your gut less pressing than your want to kiss him. It was short but to say it didn’t make your heart soar and a faint colour flush Sam’s ears would be a lie. You hand stayed there after, fingers reluctant to move away-- to lose him; the thought scratched at the back of your mind.

He let out a sigh of relief-- a little ‘hoo’ noise coming with it. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted that.”

[babybuckleys]

In Jail & Needing Bail.

Drew & Rudy x Reader. (just friends but a bit flirtier with Drew.)

Summary: Hanging out with the outer banks cast was always eventful but you didn't expect to be in a jail cell with two of your closest friends.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: trespassing, smoking, a few bad words.

A/N: this is my first fic with no relationship and the most warnings so bare with me. But the boys look so hot in handcuffs. Also I do not know anything about prison. This is my first fic on here, hope you like it. (I guess this means im open to requests.)

Nothing was supposed to happen, you guys were just supposed to be having a good time . Now you were sitting in a jail cell with Drew and Rudy. Now if we back up a few hours to where it all started this would all make sense.

You were all sitting in Chase’s apartment and were starting to get bored. Earlier in the day everyone had come over and you guys had a movie marathon day. But now as it was starting to reach around 10pm and people were starting to get antsy. LA usually was very awake at 10pm, people at restaurants and just walking around the city. So when Madison suggested that you guys go explore the city everyone agreed. Anything to get out of the stuffy apartment.

As you headed into town someone through the bunch of your friends suggested first you should grab a bite to eat. Food was important if you wanted to last the night so a bunch of murmurs were heard throughout the crowd. After finishing up, you guys headed on a walk to wherever your feet would take you. 

LA had many different sides to it. There was the jam packed side overflowing with people and places. Then there was the sketichier side of LA. The side where it was darker and there were less open shops and buildings. As you and your friends headed to the darker side of LA you huddled closer together. Still laughing and having a good time together. As you headed forward, your group of friends came to a halt. You lost your balance a little since you were towards the back and it was an unexpected stop. Everyone looked forward to see what was up. 

“Shit look guys.” Chase said. Everyone followed his gaze to an abandoned house in the middle of the street.

“How about we sneak in, we got nothing to lose.” Austin spoke out.

“I don't think that a good idea, it's kind of scary.” Madelyn said.

“Yeah I agree” Madison and you said.

“Come on, let's live a little.” Drew said as he bumped your shoulder with you. Drew was your best friend, also as was Rudy. So usually when you guys told each other stuff to do, you guys did it no matter the circumstance.

“Sure, why not.” you told him, what you did for and with your best friends you thought as you shook your head. 

The boys headed in first and you girls stuck behind. What a great way to be spending a night in LA with your friends. In an abandoned house at midnight. You weren't one to break the rules so when you didn't see any sign about no trespassing you though it was ok. At first it was kind of scary but after the eerie feeling went away you decided to walk around and explore. Some of your friends even thought it was a perfect time to record it for their Instagram stories. You headed one way by yourself as your friends all headed separate ways. You turned on the flashlight on your phone and tried not to be too scared. As you were walking more you heard creaking but thought that maybe they were just your steps. 

“Boo.” Drew grabbed your shoulders and whispered in your ear. You screamed and dropped your phone. You heard the scatter of your friends footsteps as they ran to the source of the screaming.

“You're an ass for doing that, you know that.” you told Drew as you shoved him. 

“But you love me.” he said as he wrapped your arms around you.

“Y/N, you ok?” asked Madison, searching for your voice in the pitch black building. Out of the two girls you were always closer to her, and talked to her when you couldn't talk to the two boys.  Soon they all reached you and Drew. 

“Yeah I am, someone just decided to be childish and scare me.” you told her. Soon you all explored together. For the next thirty minutes you walked around. It started to get around 1:30am and Jonathan started to yawn. You knew that it was about time to head out since it was getting late and you guys were getting tired.

As the rest of your friends headed out, you stayed behind to tie your shoe. Rudy stayed behind so you wouldn't be alone. As you got up from tying your shoe, you felt around your pockets for your phone. 

“My phone, shit where's my  phone.” you said as you frantically searched your clothing pockets. 

“How about we retrace your steps, when was the last time you had it?”

“Uhm I think it was when Drew scared me.” you thought as you remembered that when you guys were upstairs you must have dropped it. As you guys were headed upstairs Drew headed in to see what was taking so long.

“Hey guys y'all aren't doing any funny business.” Drew said as he walked in with his hands over his hands. 

“Shut up Starkey, we aren't even dating.” you said as you looked at him. You were best friends with both boys but always tended to be a bit more flirty with Drew, but of course would never date any of them, because you liked how your friendship worked.

“Ok then what's taking so long.” he said in an exasperated tone.

“I lost my phone and don't know where it is. Can you help us find it?” 

“But we gotta hurry up cause this place is giving me the creeps.” Drew said hugging his hands to himself. 

You guys laughed as all three of you headed up stairs to the last spot you were at. While you were looking, your other friends were outside. 

Currently waiting for the rest of you to come out. “What's taking them so long, it's getting cold.” Madelyn said.

“Maybe someone should go check on them.” suggested Madison. As your friends played rock,paper, scissors to decide who would go in; they saw police lights in the distance. 

“Shit are they coming this way?” Chase asked.

“Nah I don't think so, maybe it's a coincidence.” said Austin. As your friends continued on waiting for you they heard the speaker of the police car. 

“Hands up where I can see them.” said the police officer through the megaphone. 

“Shit , shit, run.” said Jonathon. 

“Shouldn't we wait for them or at least warn them.” Madison said worried about the rest of her friends.

“I don't think that's a good idea, our best bet right now is to run or else we’re going to get arrested,” Chase said. Your friends ran as fast as they could as you guys inside headed back downstairs. 

You headed outside and the first thing you heard was “hands on your head and step out carefully.” You couldn't believe you were about to get arrested and where were your other friends? Nowhere to be seen. 

“No fucking way.” Rudy said.

As you stepped down towards the cops they handcuffed you all a bit too roughly. “Anything you say will be held against you.” he said as he put all of you in the back of the cop car. As you started to drive off Drew spoke up. 

“I guess it's time to take a ride downtown.” You just shook your head as you buried your head into your hands. Rudy put a hand on your leg to ease the tension. You could not believe you had just gotten arrested for trespassing with your two best friends. 

As you were put into a cell all you could think about was how this was crazy. Drew and Rudy were handcuffed together in one corner and you were in the other. You werent gonna lie, your two best friends were attractive but something about them handcuffed together just sparked something in you.

“I don't understand why we have to be handcuffed, it's not like we are going to fight each other.”

“Well I got to say it's pretty hot that you too are handcuffed.” you didn't know where you got this new source of confidence and you were kind of shocked.

“Damn Y/N, jail is turning you wild.” Drew said. You looked down blushing and ignored his comment. Rudy was becoming stressed, you could tell because first he was shaking his  leg up and down. Next he did something that he only did when he was stressed, he pulled out a cigarette. 

He started smoking it and offered Drew one too.  “You want one Y/N?” he asked.

“No thanks Pankow, two people smoking in here is enough.” You weren't a fan of smoking but again something about your friends in handcuffs and smoking was so hot. You sat in a corner and hoped that you could get out of this soon. Because you didn't think that you could last much longer in here with your friends looking that hot, barely doing anything and you not doing anything stupid. The officer came in a bit later and said that you guys can call someone.

“You guys get one call, make it worth it,” he said in a grumpy voice.

“What the hell, why do we only get one call if there are three of us.” Drew questioned.

“Watch you tone.” the officer said. You grabbed his arm and looked at him in reassurance to not say anything else. “Hey it's ok, they'll answer.” You really hoped your friends answered. You weren't sure what time it was but you decided that your best bet was calling Madison, she had always been there for you so you hoped this was the case. 

You punched in her number and after three rings there was static on the other end.

“Hello, Madi, Are you there? Please tell me you're there.” you said trying not to break down in front of your friends.

“Y/N oh my god, are you guys ok, I'm sorry we couldn't stay back.” she said. You knew that they couldn't stay back because instead of three being arrested it would be eight. 

“Oh god Madi, I don't know how long I could be in here with them.” you told her suggesting the fact about how they were looking so hot. 

“Why? Are they being gross? Have they posted bail for you guys.” you knew you couldn't tell her with the boys around so you suggested to them that they go ask the officer how much your guys bail was set at. When Drew stayed behind you spoke up.

“Can you both go, I have to tell Madison something.” you looked at him pleadingly. He shook his head and jogged up to catch Rudy.

“Gosh Madison I don't know, it's just something about them in handcuffs and smoking that's so hot.” you exasperated to the brown haired girl.

“Damn seems like someone has a crush on two guys and has a kink, I thought you hated smoking” said Madison laughing of her best friend in a joking way.

“Don't say it so loud. They're attractive guys but just my best friends that's it. Now shh they're coming back. “ Y/N said as she turned around and saw both boys heading her way.

“He said the bail is set at $500.” Rudy said.

“Did you hear that Madison?” Y/N told her friend on the other line.

“Yeah I just told the others. Hang in there, We will try to get you guys out soon.” She said as there was shuffling on the other end then and the line ended.

“Ok they said that they'll try to get the money as soon as possible, I guess we just have to wait.” You sulked back to the jail cell sleepily. You closed your eyes and laid your head on Drew's shoulder. About what seemed like a few hours later the jiggling of keys startled you awake.

“Someone here to bail you out, come on get up.” the officer said. You and your friends headed out of the cell sleepily. As you headed out of the police station you noticed as the sun was rising. You saw your friends leaning against Chase’s car. You all pulled each other into a hug.

“What a night we had.” Austin said.

“You're not the one who got arrested” you said looking at him with a serious face.

“Yeah man it was your idea and you didn't even have to be in a cell for god knows how many hours.” Rudy said.

“Well it's now 7 in the morning so you guys were in there for about five hours, sorry it took us so long to get the money.” Madelyn said.

“It's all good, what matters now is that we are out and that we should get some food cause I am starving.” Drew sighed.

“I agree with that statement, let's go get some food.” you said. You had an eventful night that you never expected would happen but now you were glad it was winding down with your friends and food.

taglist: @heartbreak-hemmings (thank you for helping me with the title), @thelocalpogue, @outrbank, @jayjaymaebank, @beautyandthebleh, @ceruleanjj, @pogue-style, @shawnssongs, @flowersinvegas​, @baby-bearie, @myrandom-fandomlife, @calumbroutledge, @bellaguarneri.