#im going to squash him under my boot

[15eraphim]

how tag oc art

sos

[kuroosdarling]

MY ONLY VICE — ༉‧₊˚.

‎ft. roommate matsukawa !

‎꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. cigarette smoking, unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, fingering, semi-public sex — wc : 2.2k

‎꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : after pining and longing for your roommate, things take a turn in the right direction when he decides there’s something more satisfying than his usual vice

‎꒰ NOTES ꒱ : feverishly wrote this last night...this man has me by the neck </3 tysm to echo for helping me with the summary pls ! anyway ! enjoy !!

“that’s a nasty habit.” you comment, taking in the way he wraps his lips around the cigarette, his hand slowly coming up to light it. it takes him 2 tries to get the flame to stick, the lighter barely having enough juice for what he needs. his eyes travel down to you as he inhales the smoke, a teasing glint in his eye that tells you he’s heard that same comment a thousand times already. he briefly looks up, breathing out the smoke in a dragged out fashion, the moonlight illuminating his features as he does so — the swirl of smoke melting up into the night sky.

“everybody’s got a vice.” his attention turns back to you, the cigarette sitting delicately between his fingers. he flicks off some of the ash that was threatening to fall off before a cheshire grin takes up his face as he slightly leans down towards you. “i wonder what yours is?”

you suck in a deep breath, remnants of the smoke surely invading your lungs as you take a shaky step back. he takes another drag, not letting you out of his sight as he watches you fidget. he’s known about the crush you had on him for awhile. he blows out the smoke again, the feeling lackluster compared to the way you’re drawing him in now.

finally bored of the cigarette, he puts it out on the side of his boot before squashing it into the pavement — careful not to break eye contact.

“i have a few ideas of what it could be.” he goes on, slightly tilting his head to the side, the easy grin on his face ever unwavering. “we’ve only been roommates for a few months but i already know what keeps you up at night.”

your heart drops into your stomach, almost positive on where this conversation was going.

“my vice has always been soothing my oral fixation, but yours?” he stops in front of you, towering over you and gazing at you with a glint in his eye. “something tells me you have a different issue that needs soothing. one you cant do all by yourself no matter how hard you try.”

your mouth is dry, struggling to come up with any words to defend yourself. you were positive he heard you the other night. when you thought he’d be fast asleep, you had been so frustrated lately you needed to take matters into your own hands. but he was right, you couldn’t do it by yourself. 

“i-“ you squeak out, your whole body feeling like it’s on fire. the attention you desperately have been craving from him is now suddenly in your grasp and you hardly know what to do with it. 

“you?” he pushes, before lightly hooking his fingers under your chin, tilting your attention so it’s fully onto him. “are just so cute.”

he leans down so he’s fully in your space, his lips almost brushing against yours. one little nudge and you’d be kissing him. but he waits. 

“maybe we can help each other out.” the words blow over your lips, making your head dizzy. “you help me with my vice and i’ll help you with yours.”

“im not kissing you.” you whisper breathlessly, your tone betraying the words you spoke. you can feel his little chuckle radiate off of him. “you just smoked.”

matsukawa shrugs, starting to straighten up before you hook your hands into the collar of his jacket, pulling him in close to finally crash your lips against his.

he can’t help but groan into the kiss, you’re just as sweet as he imagined. his arms quickly find themselves around you, his hands pushing and pulling against you. adamant on exploring every inch of you he can. 

it’s dizzying — your mind can hardly keep up with the way your body is reacting. before you even realize it, your tongue is gliding over his bottom lip, eager to finally slip into his mouth. 

it’s hard to say how long the kiss goes on, absolutely drunk on the feeling of his lips gliding perfectly against yours. you moan into his mouth, tightly gripping onto his bicep, desperate for him to be closer.

he abruptly pulls apart from you, his chest heaving from lack of oxygen. his lips were swollen and red and you couldn’t help but touch them, running your finger along it with some sense of pride. you had managed to reduce him into a disheveled mess with just a simple kiss.

he quickly grabs onto your hand, placing a kiss on your fingers before one last peck to your lips. without a word, he falls to his knees, looking up at you, his eyes quietly begging for something his mouth was too stubborn to say.

“what are you doing?” you ask, still trying to catch your breath. you look around, reminding yourself that you’re out on the balcony — some what in the public eye.

“fixing my fixation.” his hands leisurely trail up on the back of your legs, causing your knees to buckle slightly. you quickly grasp onto the railing to steady yourself. “if you’ll let me, of course.”

“please.” you breathe out, silently thanking your past self for deciding to wear a dress today. he smirks, his hands continuing their trek along your skin until you feel his palms rest on your backside, giving a slight squeeze. you gasp out from the cool touch of his rings before he hooks his fingers under your panties, slowly slipping them off.

“so pretty.” he murmurs, bunching up the skirt of your dress so he could get himself in a better position. his breath ghosts along your inner thighs and you feel another wave of arousal take over you, your hands tightly winding against the balcony. 

matsukawa places a tentative lick along your folds before diving into your cunt, groaning as he quickly becomes obsessed with the way you taste. languidly swirling his tongue around as he falls deeper into you. you let a cry out into the night before covering your mouth, trying to reel in all the noises that threatened to escape. he pulls back, eyes shining up at you.

“this is only going to work if you hold onto me.” he says, taking your hands from your mouth and placing them on his head. you weave your fingers through his curls as he dives back into your awaiting cunt.

he’s ruthless, not giving you any chance to be discreet. it was like he was on a mission to make you scream his name into the night, ensuring all your neighbors knew exactly who was making you feel this good. every nerve in your body was set ablaze by the intricate flicks of his tongue.

one harsh suck against your clit had you moaning out his name, pulling onto his curls to get him deeper. the sudden sensation has him groaning into your cunt, sending vibrations up along your spine and almost completely short circuiting your brain.

you were getting close, and he could tell by the way your moans became breathy cries and how your thighs began to clench around him. but he was determined to have you fall apart by just his mouth, diving his tongue into your entrance, ensuring his nose strategically bumped against your clit.

without any warning, you feel your whole body tighten up before releasing. between the iron grip you had on his hair and the way your thighs wrapped around him, he swore he could die happy right here. hearing you shout out his name as he lapped at your dripping cunt made the jeans he was wearing uncomfortably tighter — his hard cock twitching for attention.

“shit-“ you whimper as he mouth breaks away. the bottom of his face is covered in your slick. matsukawa yanks down your dress before standing back up, pulling you in by the back of your head for another deep kiss.

you sigh into it, feeling blissed out from your latest high. but matsukawa has never felt so focused, so determined. he starts guiding you back inside without breaking apart, leading you to his bedroom. after stumbling around and giggling into each others mouths, you finally make it there.

“get on the bed.” he rasps out, and you realize you’ve never heard his voice like that — so deep and filled with desire. you quickly bound over, laying back on the bed and scooting up, resting back on your forearms. he unbuckles his belt, taking it off and sliding it off to the side before shimming out of his jeans.

you only have a brief moment to look down before he’s crawling over you. but you can feel it — his hard cock twitching against your thigh, begging for some sort of attention. and he’s huge.��

“mattsun-“ you start before he silences you with a kiss, one that reassures you and soothes all the little worries that start to plague your mind.

“call me issei.” he whispers against your lips, pulling back slightly so he could get a better look at your face. his cock jumped as he took in your features, mystified by how you’re sprawled out under him, looking up with wide, doe eyes and nodding along to every word he’s saying. “gonna have to stretch you out a bit more, okay?”

“okay.” you run your hand through his hair, pulling slightly so his lips are back on yours. issei’s kisses leave you breathless yet absolutely intoxicated by the lack of air. you sigh into the kiss; after months of pining after him, you were finally right where you wanted to be.

his finger lightly touches your folds before he slips it in, slowly pumping it. you clench at the intrusion, pulling from his soft, swollen lips and gasping out into his room. the feeling from his finger alone already felt infinite times better than your own.

he quickly adds another finger, your walls practically sucking him in. he starts to do a scissoring motion, stretching you out so you could fully take him. he brushes past a spot deep inside you that has you rolling your eyes back with a strangled moan.

“yeah? right there?” he smirks, teasing you as he looks into your eyes. all you can do is whimper as he keeps thrusting his fingers in. “that the spot?”

“‘sei.” you call out, starting to ride his fingers as you feel your second high start to creep up on you. “please.”

“please what?” he asks, watching you with dark eyes as you squirm under him. he slips in a third finger when you don’t answer right away, eliciting another moan from between your lips.

“please fuck me already.” you reach down and wrap your fingers around his wrist, slowing down his movements. there’s a beat where you look at each other, both understanding that there’s no going back from what you were about to do. but neither of you minded, it’s not like you were the closest of friends anyway.

you quickly rip off your dress over your head and unlatch your bra. issei’s eyes widen at the sight of your bare chest but before he can do anything to appreciate it, you’re trying to tug off his shirt so he’s left in just his boxers.

he gets the hint, pulling it off of his head before pinning you back down, reclaiming some control of the situation. he eases his boxers off and tosses them to the side, grabbing a hold of his weeping cock. 

but he feels your hand quickly find his, smearing his pre-cum along his tip to try and speed up the process. between your eagerness and the way you started to expertly pump his cock, he knew he couldn’t waste anymore time. he needed to be inside of you.

“ready?” he whispers in your ear, giving it a small peck as he slides his tip against your slick folds.

“please—“ you hiccup. “no more teasing. no more waiting.” 

he nods, slowly pushing in. he gasps out at the feeling of your warm, wet walls enveloping his cock in a vice like grip. everything felt so hot and he couldn’t help but keep pushing in.

your hands find his back, clawing at him as you feel him bottom out — feeling so full like he was lodged all the way up in your stomach.

“you okay?” his hand grips your hip, rubbing soothing circles against it as he tries to read your face. all you can do is nod earnestly, trying to rock your hips against his for friction. he watches you hump against him for a moment, drinking in the way clutch onto him. he softly smirks before starting to pull back out “didn’t know you’d be so needy.”

before you could retort, he thrusts back in — the force of it pushing you back on the bed. issei grabs your hips to hold you in place, feverishly fucking you onto his cock. he couldn’t hold back anymore, not when you cried out his name, looking like an angel sprawled out on his bed.

“you’re such a good girl — holy shit — taking my cock so well.” he groans, his lips finding yours again as he thrusts don’t falter. you whine into his mouth.

his hips stutter at how well your walls keep sucking him back in — the way you meet him thrust for thrust has his mind spiraling to the point of no return. completely lost in the way you feel, the way you sound — he knows there’s no coming back from this. he’s absolutely addicted. 

his new vice, the one where he knows he’ll be craving all hours of the day until he’s finally satisfied when he gets to have you in the wee hours of the night. only for him to realize it won’t be enough — it’ll never be enough. luckily, you’re just as hooked as him.

[steveshairychest]

Eddie who grew up on 'Bewitched' reruns and now is a bit of witchcraft geek. He knows different herbs and a couple of Latin words and jokingly puts mystic references in his songs. High school jock Steve heard the rumors about Munson boy being satanic cult leader but didn't believe it until feels like Eddie is bewitched' him after they share a joint at some random party.

anon I love this im giggling and kicking my feet

Steve's heard the rumours about Eddie, he's seen the Latin words scribbled on the one notebook he uses in every class, he's felt something akin to lightning under his skin whenever he looks at Eddie.

These things have Steve convinced the rumours are true. Some people say he's a witch, some say he sold his soul to the devil and others think he's not human at all. Steve knows there's definitely something up. He can't stop thinking about him; the way he smiles, the way he winks at Steve in the hallway. It all makes his heart race and his cheeks heat up. It has to be some sort of spell.

And then the party happens. Eddie holds a joint out to him with a raised brow and, unable to say no, Steve takes it from him; trying not to think about the fact that Eddie's lips were just in the same spot he's putting his own. They pass it back and forth until Eddie squashes the butt out under his boot.

Steve feels floaty, relaxed enough to sit a bit closer to Eddie on the cramped couch they sat on. He radiates a comforting warmth and the way their shoulders press together makes him sigh. He likes being close to Eddie.

"You've put a spell on me." Steve says seriously while staring at Eddie's side profile.

Eddie leans his head on the back of the couch and laughs, it's a beautiful sound that drowns out the trashy top 40 song playing around them. "What?"

Steve leans his head back on the couch as well but turns his head to face Eddie, who mirrors his movement, their noses almost touching as they stare at each other. "You've bewitched me." He whispers. "I can't stop thinking about you. Whatever spell you've put on me, it's made me crazy about you."

Eddie's eyes go wide, his mouth forming a surprised 'o' shape, then it's gone, replaced with a lazy smirk as he leans even closer to Steve. "That's a funny way to say you've got a crush on me, Harrington."

"But I don't." He's searching Eddie's face for something, anything, any sign that he's not crazy. That this is more than him having a crush on someone he shouldn't. "You've done something. I know it."

"Trust me, Steve, we would have kissed by now if I'd put a spell on you."

"Oh." Steve's eyes drop to Eddie's lips. "Maybe it is just a crush."

"Does that scare you?" Eddie whispers. Steve's very aware that they are sitting on the couch in the middle of a crowded party but all of the people around them seem so far away. He wants to lean that tiny bit further and taste the beer on Eddie's lips.

"It terrifies me." He whispers back honestly. "But, like, in a good way."

Eddie smiles, seemingly satisfied with Steve's answer.

Steve leans back so that he can take in the beauty of Eddie properly. His eyes trail over the scar on his top lip, the freckles on his nose, the way his eyes crease with his smile and the blush that stain his cheeks. The more he looks, the more beauty he finds. Eddie really has bewitched him.

[im-ur-bunny-boy]

Jung Hoseok is set to inherit infamous gangster empire, Gwangum-gu. Park Jimin is a prodigous rookie chosen to bring it all crumbling down. Things don't always go as planned.

"Babydoll, you knew the game. You played it pretty damn well, too. It sucks that I won, hm?"

hi!! i'm lucky~ after mulling over this idea for a fic, i've finally published the first chapter to a03. its a bts gang/mafia au because im a sucker for those. it was inspired by sugamin's house of cards, and you can probably tell it hehe.

this fic is my baby and means a lot to me, so i'd like if you checked it out! it's gonna be a longer fic, somewhere between 130k words and 260k words. its gonna be all angst and smut, no comfort (if you're into that).

if you like violence, smut, gang aus, dark/disturbing themes in a fic, this is definitely a good one for you~

read it here!!

(bonus except from the prologue):

“Alright, Park, we’re sending you in.”

Those six words sent shivers down Jimin’s spine. He felt his stomach clench in a way he thought he might be sick. Normally, Jimin was excited to be sent on a job. Traffic checks, missing pets, and random checks based on local reports were the normal job. But this job? This job made Jimin feel like the unluckiest man in Seoul. On the list of phrases Jimin didn’t want to hear, that should not have been so high up. The feeling Jimin had was like someone just told him he had cancer, or that his dog died. 

The last time Jimin felt this hopeless was when his father passed in a car accident. Jimin had been 12 at the time, and felt like he would never recover. Obviously, he did, but he had never felt such agony as then. Except for now. Now, Jimin felt like “the same scared little kid. He turned around in his swivel chair and looked up at his boss, Seokjin, dumbly with his mouth agape. Seokjin stared at him in his usual, somewhat unnerving way. Jimin swallowed before mustering the courage to speak.

“Puh-Pardon?” Jimin bit his bottom lip and it felt like he was spinning so fast he might just die. Seokjin cocked and eyebrow and crossed his arms. 

“You heard me. We’re sending you in. I got the higher-ups to approve everything.” Seokjin stated, matter-of-factly. He moved some papers that had been scattered on Jimin’s desk out of the way and leaned against it, the edge of the desk pressing into the back of his thighs and causing his trousers to wrinkle up. Seokjin shut Jimin’s laptop and sat a folder on top of it, motioning for Jimin to open it. He made no move to do so.

“I’ve been working on getting as much information as possible together for you. You probably already know all of this, since you’ve been meticulously following every move of Gwangum-gu for a year now, but I thought you might appreciate a ‘study guide’ of sorts,” Seokjin started, running one hand up and down his thigh absentmindedly. 

Jimin very quickly decided that Seokjin purposely decided to be unprofessional in the fact he didn’t pull out a chair to sit, choosing to use Jimin’s desk. He felt so very tiny in Seokjin’s shadow, and it was terrifying. He felt his heartbeat quicken, realizing that he was like a tiny ant in front of a massive shoe; like any moment Seokjin would squash him under boot. 

He looked over at the now-closed laptop he had been sat at for nearly 7 hours, scanning through security footage and interpreting intercepted messages. He had done all this in the hopes he would catch some sort of slip-up, something he could use to file an arrest warrant. But all of his efforts were for nothing, since every non-suspicious word in the Webster Dictionary was used as cover. Why did mobsters have to be so fucking tricky? Why couldn’t they just say ‘Hey man, be ready for the heroin shipment at noon today! How was that murder? Did you hide the body?” Sometimes it all made Jimin feel like slamming his head against the wall, because probably that would have better results than what he normally did.

[dragonblobz]

I'm on my bullshit again. No lemons. Just Shinigami goodness. Wrote this to In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth 3 by Coheed and Cambria.

Ryuk has been around for such a long time. Ever since she had found that notebook sitting on that tree stump years ago. Cover soft looking and beaded with dew. It had looked as if it had been there some time. And, although the pages looked weathered and yellow, there was no mold or outward damage.

Surprising given its location in the middle of the woods. She’d only even seen it because she’d stopped and knelt to retie her shoe. Just an alien black square looking sharp and unreal sitting on that stump just off the jogging trail.

She can remember how the thing had felt when she’d picked it up. Soft in texture. Like careworn leather.

The words “Death Note" emblazoned on the cover had made her feel a little unsettled. Eerie out here in the predawn misty quiet.

A silent voice inside her mind had whispered that maybe she should put it right back down on that stump and keep running. As far and as fast as she could.

Another voice, vapid and cunning, had laughed at the absurdity of such a book, with such a title, being left out here in the middle of nowhere.

She hadn’t left it there. Without opening it, she’d tucked it under her arm and continued on her morning run.

She performed all the menial tasks of her daily life, forgetting all about that Death Note leaving dew marks on her dining room table.

Breakfast was bland. Work was tedious. No different than any other day. Even when she’d reentered her home and plopped her work bag next to the thing, her eyes really didn’t focus on it.

It was the tall bony Shinigami standing in her kitchen that finally arrested her fuzzy mind from the blandness of living.

He hadn’t even been looking at her. Instead, the spinous processes of his vertebrae pressed onto the dark material upon his long back as he leaned over her counter. Observing a bowl of fruit as if it were a still life masterpiece.

She hadn’t moved. Was utterly frozen. Just watching this creature as it looked at her food.

“What’s all this junk? Taking up room that could be used for perfectly good apples.” It’s voice, low and yet raspy, grated on her eardrums as it lifted a hand and poked a claw into the ripe flesh of an orange. The movement causing several pieces of fruit to fall out of the over filled bowl entirely.

With a deft movement, the creature caught the only apple which had exited the bowl. Rubbed it with the pad of it’s thumb as it finally lifted it’s face to look at her.

It’s face………

Cadaverous. Eyes beady and large and yellow. Nose squashed. Like a mummy who’d decided to affix it’s hair for a punk rock concert. It was even sporting a dangling silver earring on one of it’s little ears.

At her gawping expression, it had smiled. Wide thin dark mouth sporting a row of razor teeth appearing aged and yellow.

“No screaming, eh? Hiya, Y/N.”

She hadn’t bothered to question how this thing knew her name.

“Um…….. hi?” Her own voice sounded dry and distant in her ears. “And you are?”

It bit into that apple, it’s eyes closing. As if savoring the fruit. A stray drop of the juice dribbled down onto it’s chin.

It said a word. But muffled thru a mouthful of apple, it nearly sounded like a retch.

“Ex….Excuse me? I didn’t…… I didn’t quite understand that.”

“Not a good listener tho. Ah well. Nobody is perfect.” It’s long tongue snaked out to swipe at that bead of juice as the creature had studied her.

Raising it’s free hand, it extended a long bony finger. She noticed now the rings glinting on his hands.

“I. Am. Ryuk.” He said it very slowly. As if she might have been a child who might not understand. But there wasn’t a trace of sarcasm or ill temper in it’s behavior.

“So….. Ryuk…… why…… um…. What……. What do you want?”

At this, it’s smile had widened.

“I’m just here Y/N. YOU are the one that picked up the Death Note.”

Imagery of that notebook popped up in her head.

“I….. I did……”

“Yes. You did. And I’ll be with you until you die now. Or I do.” It was leering now. “Whichever comes first.”

“I see….” She didn’t really see. Turned from him and went into the dining room to pick up that notebook. Opening it. Reading the first thing written on the inside of the cover out loud.

“The human whose name is written in this note shall die.”

It had been frightening in retrospect. Not those words. Not that Death Note. Not even the monster standing in the doorway happily crunching it’s way thru a second apple and watching her.

What had been utterly terrifying was that she had not blanched. Had not set this note down and backed away. Had not told that creature to take it and go.

Instead, she’d stood there. Continuing to read. A name and face already coming to mind.

A face belonging to a monster who’d put that apple eating shark mouthed monster to utter shame. The man who’d killed someone she had loved.

Without looking away from the Death Note, she’d reached over and started rummaging thru her work bag. Fingers shaking and fumbling at keys and change.

“Never can find what you’re looking for if your bag is too full, Y/N.” Ryuk looked vastly amused. “You’re not even going to question the validity of the Note? That’s what you humans usually do.”

She hadn’t answered. Simply gasped as her fingers had clutched onto a great fistful of bullshit in her bag. Lifting the whole mess out to drop carelessly on the table. Chapstick and a tampon scattering across the surface.

And there, rolling and coming to rest against an old broken key chain, had been a blue ink pen.

She’d looked up at Ryuk. Eyes wide, almost manic.

“Any person?”

He smiled again. Repeated her words.

“Any living person.”

There had been no eloquence. No artfulness nor ritualistic care taken in that first death. She had scratched the name onto the paper. And a way to die. Almost stabbing it in. Breathing coming out in ragged desperate gasping.

After the deed had been done, the pen clattered to the floor as she’d wept. Fingers numb.

It hadn’t occurred to her that there would be no way to instantly verify this death. Not until that moment. And so, with a frustrated cry, she’d slapped the Death Note onto the table and fled into her bedroom. Right over to the dark corner to collapse, wrap her arms around her knees, stuff her face into her knees, and cry as a child. Ryuk following her, tilting his head quizzically at this suffering.

“Why are you crying? You couldn’t have liked that human if you wanted them to die.”

“Please…… please go.”

But he didn’t. Simply had sank down. Knobby knees on either side of his ghastly face as he sat across from her.

“I told you. I’m here till you die, Y/N.” There was no camaraderie or sympathy in his voice. It had been matter of fact. “But this surely will get boring very soon, won’t it?”

“When will I know if he died?”

Ryuk smiled again. Leering.

“My my. Impatient aren’t you. Actually that’s a quality I like about you humans. As for your question, I guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself.” His eyes glint as his smile turns wicked. “You could always write a name belonging to someone closer. If you’re seeking validation, of course.”

“There isn’t anyone else I wanna kill.”

“Then this is going to get very boring very quickly, Y/N.”

She hadn’t had to wait long. Two days later, she’d received correspondence that her presence would no longer be required at a hearing. The defendant was dead.

A quick Google search verified that the person had died just as she’d written.

Setting the phone down, fingers numb, she'd simply looked up at her Shinigami.

She knew that’s what he was now. She’d been peppering him with questions about himself and his kind. And about the Death Note. He hadn’t answered many of them. At least, not until she’d given him an angelic grin and revealed a bag of bright green apples.

“Your apples can be green???” He'd looked absolutely delighted. And had been far more forthcoming.

“He’s dead. He’s really……. Gone…….”

Ryuk merely grunted in visceral enjoyment as he popped the core of that Granny Smith into his maw.

Without warning, she’d reached forward, patting at another errant drop of juice on his chin with a Kleenex she’d just snatched from the box. The action was mainly impulsive. And she’d laughed.

“You’re so messy.”

The Shinigami had frozen. Utterly motionless. He didn’t breathe himself. Statue still. Simply looking at her.

The years passed by like this. The shock and relief provided by this first killing soon giving way to an almost comfortable routine. She didn’t go on a wholesale slaughter. And often targeted those who hurt children. The pain of such cases resonating with the events of her own life.

And there were so. Many. Apples. Loads of them. Ryuk loved all kinds. Although he did seem preferential to Honey Crisp. She never once could get him to try another fruit. And she DID try. Not even a damn orange.

“It’s yummy. Ya know, for somebody that says he gets bored easily, you sure are picky.” She waggled the bright fruit.

“I’ve watched you peel one of those things. What sort of food makes you work so hard? Now THIS……” He'd held up his half eaten apple. “THIS is the pinnacle of crisp and juicy. Now leave that orange wherever you found it, if you please.”

Time was littered with conversations as simple as these, intermingled with serious discussions in which he was as non informative as ever.

It was one of these more serious conversations which followed an observation on her part.

She’d noticed changes in him. Very slight. But she was simply around him so much that she could see them. His movements had become slower. More careful. His speech slowed as well. As if he might be thinking more carefully. Or even forgetting things. She never once pointed this out.

Not until, one day, after clearing 6 entire apples, he’d actually groaned as he’d flopped upon her couch. Long booted feet hanging over one of the arms.

She plops next to him. Poking at one of the skulls on his belt. He’d long since stopped being surprised by her impulsive touches and nearness. Her humanness. Simply tolerating it.

“Are you hurting, Ryuk?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Oh. No reason.”

“I’m dying, Y/N.”

For once, it is she who freezes.

“I thought Shinigami lived a long time.”

“We do. My time is simply running out.” He’s just watching her.

“You’d said….. you’d said that you guys get more years by taking ours.”

“We do.”

She stops toying with that skull entirely. Turns her body so that she’s facing him directly.

“Is it time, then?” She’s oddly unafraid.

“Time for what?”

“For you to….. ya know…… write my name in YOUR Death Note?”

At this, he chuckles.

“I’m not going to write your name.”

She looks confused.

“But….. why not?”

Now he’s actually laughing.

“Do you WANT me to write your name in my Death Note?”

She chews on her bottom lip. Reaching out to pat his chest. Once again, he doesn’t react.

“I don’t want you to die.”

He laughs again. But there is no more true mirth in the sound.

“Why?”

She counters.

“Why won’t you write my name?”

“I am not entirely sure, Y/N.” The slight confusion in his voice gives credence to this answer.

“Well. I am sure.” She’s staring intently at him. “Everything ends, Ryuk. Nobody ever stays. Nothing is constant. I’ve never had a single person ever remain in my life. Except….. except you.”

He sighs. Patiently repeating himself.

“I will be with you until you die.”

“I don’t care if it’s because you have to be here. You’re still HERE……. Will it be soon?”

That same, toothy leer.

“You know I won’t tell you your lifespan, Y/N.”

“I don’t mean me.”

He just looks at her. She’s never seen his face so expressionless. Then repeats yet again.

“I will be with you until you die. Or until I do.”

“I will write my own name then. Will that do it?”

“Stop being foolish. Be a dear and get me another apple won’t you?”

“Yeah….. I will. But I’m not done.”

“I’m sure you’re not.” He chuckles.

It is as if this conversation opens a chasm in this inevitable process. Everything about Ryuk is changing. And so quickly.

Already emaciated and pale, even his dark lips turn papery and light grey. His hair grays too. Yellow eyes growing filmy where they had been so keen before. As if, when the aging process actually begins in a Shinigami, it is accelerated.

It is barely 2 weeks after this conversation that he gives a defeated grunt, sprawled on her bed as she’s on her laptop.

“I can’t get up.” He barks out a laugh. As if this is genuinely funny to him.

She closes her laptop and rises from her chair. Turning and walking over to the bed to flop next to him. Staring at the ceiling just as he is.

“You want another apple?”

“Thank you, Y/N. But I do not.”

“That close, huh.”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Will the Death Note still work? When you’re gone I mean.”

“Yes.”

Her voice is oddly cold.

“Do death gods go to hell? I cant go to heaven or hell. What about you?”

He doesn’t answer for several minutes. She doesn’t speak either. Finally…

“I suppose we will end up in the same place, Y/N.”

“I'm glad.” She turns her face to look at him. “I’ll need something before you go.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“The Shinigami eyes.”

At this, Ryuk turns his face as well. And they just stare at each other.

“Clever greedy impatient girl.” The insult is almost affectionate. “Are you truly that afraid to die alone?”

“Nobody should die alone. And this way, neither of us will half to. Half my lifespan for the Shinigami eyes. We’ll die at the same time.” She looks back up at the ceiling. He does too.

When he feels her fingers intertwining with his, as always, he doesn’t react.

“I never actually made that offer to you. Merely spoke of it.”

“I don’t care. I want the Shinigami eyes.”

He turns his face to her.

“Who am I to turn down such a lucrative deal?”

She sees his hand coming towards her face. Closes her eyes.

When she opens them again, the picture of her and some old friends on the wall is noticeably different. One face, the face of the friend who’d committed suicide years before, is clear and unblemished. The other faces each have a name and numbers above them.

And when she looks back at Ryuk, she sees that his hair is once again jet black. Eyes just as clear and sharp as she remembers. He leers at her. Squeezes her hand as she’s squeezing his.

“I’ll take that apple as well. If the offer is still there.”

She grins.

“You got a new lease on life and you STILL won’t try an orange?”

He scoffs.

[orionwhispers]

Fools Gold // Tommy Shelby

(A/N - ok. i started this imagine in december but then life happened and here we are almost in march. this took a really long time to write and im honestly kind of iffy about it but i hope you guys like it. also side note - tommy is a MASSIVE dick in this and do not let a boy/girl/anyone treat you like this - this is purely fiction and irl if someone uses you like this then they are trash. also second side note im mean to grace in this but I have a lot of feelings ok. LOVE U GUYS)

Thomas Shelby needed a distraction.

His mind was hazy, like looking through a cloud of smoke. He saw Grace everywhere. Sunshine coloured hair reflecting on the grey puddles in the street, sapphire blue eyes watching him from the bluebells sitting on Polly’s desk, her soft laughter in his ears whenever he heard a bell chime. He wanted a distraction. He wanted a quick fix, something soft and warm that would fill the emptiness of his bed and the hole in his heart, but he never imagined just what that would cost.

The first time he saw you was on a Wednesday. The clouds were silver and the air was cold, and London was a welcome change in scenery. He was visiting Ada, in the city for business but wanting to see the kind face of his sister, some softness in his world of sharp. It was late at night, the moon round and full and the library almost empty, and he nodded at his sister in greeting as she filed away the last of the novels.

“Tommy.” She smiled, with rosy cheeks and tousled hair. “Let me just grab my coat and we’ll be off.”

She turned to speak to someone, and Tommy impatiently tapped his clipped fingernails along the edge of a desk, his brain always working, mentally relieving business deals in his head as he waited. He listened to the low hum of the roads outside and the incessant flickering of a street lamp through the window, turning slowly at the sound of footsteps approaching.

His breath hitched in his throat.

Standing beside his sister, all kind eyed and ink stained and sweet as strawberry ice cream was a girl. A girl that for the first time in a long time, made the memories in his brain curl off and vanish like wisps of smoke.

A girl that could be the perfect distraction.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright closing up? I’m sorry to rush off like this.” He didn’t register his sisters voice, his ocean blue eyes trained on you, with your cherry bitten lips and pink polished fingernails.

“Oh Ada, I’m fine. Have a lovely time.” You replied, voice just as honeyed as the rest of you. You gave Tommy a soft smile, wringing your hands together, slightly uncomfortable with the attention you had accidentally drawn to yourself.

He stepped forward without a second thought, his palm outstretched. You blinked back at him, like a deer caught in headlights. Ada had spoken about her brother; how he could sweet talk the devil, and how he was destined to rule the world with his golden mind and silver tongue. You had been intimidated by her words, and standing before him you felt utterly, hopelessly, mortal.

You tried to hide your nerves as you shook his hand, his large fingers engulfing yours and sending sparks down your spine. His blue eyes reminded you of the ocean, like a stormy sea and the smell of salt, and you were worried you might just drown. He wasn’t handsome. He was beautiful.

“My apologies for stealing my sister away.” He said, his voice even and still, warm like a summer breeze. “I’m Tommy.”

“(Y/N).” You replied, trying not to falter under his unwavering stare.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N).”

You held his gaze for as long as you could, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks and your neck grow hot. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and that was what unsettled you the most. You had never been in the presence of someone so powerful and striking, and you felt so small next to him.

After a moment you pulled away, biting your lip gently and motioning to the overflowing bookshelves around you. “I should get back, it was nice to meet you. Have a nice night, Ada.” You smiled at your friend, before turning on your heel and walking away, feeling eyes bore into your back.

Tommy watched as you left, entranced by the swish of your skirt and the soft footsteps you took, and-the dizzying length of your tight clad legs. Ada tightened her scarf around her throat, a smirk on her face as she made her way to the door.

“Don’t even think about it Tommy.”

——————————————————-

It was hard for him not to.

That night, as he drove back to Birmingham, he pictured your pretty face, your teeth chewing on those rose coloured lips, the slight tremor in your words as you spoke. In the quiet of his bedroom, the moon watching him from high above, it was usually Grace who disrupted his nightly reflection. But for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t her voice soothing him to sleep.

He knew he wasn’t going to fall in love. Grace might have been on the other side of the Atlantic with a husband that didn’t deserve her, but Tommy was a romantic, and he truly thought that one day they would reunite. Lizzie was a good fuck, but she was temporary. Now she was hired as his secretary he didn’t want to blur the lines of their relationship, and he could already feel her growing too close for comfort. He didn’t need a girlfriend, especially when he knew that no one could compare to Grace, he didn’t need another person to worry about and he certainly didn’t need another broken heart. But what he did need was something to fill the void.

It was easy to find you, even with just your first name. He spoke to one of his informants in London, under the guise of ‘looking for a new assistant’ and the following day he had a stack of papers sitting on his desk.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N). You worked at the library two days a week, and spent the other three training as a nurse. There were no previous addresses or references from past jobs, just your current flat and the hospital where you worked part time. There was nothing personal, no mention of family or relatives nearby, just a slightly faded photograph of you taken before the war. You weren’t looking at the camera, your eyes occupied elsewhere, almost as if you were shying away from the photographer. You looked younger, but just as beautiful and Tommy thumbed the worn print between his fingers; careful not to smudge your face, a fingertip trailing along your lips.

———————————————————-

The flowers came three days after you had met.

You had been at the hospital learning how to properly stitch wounds, and your head was numb from processing so much information. You were exhausted, droplets of rain splattering across your collar and down the back of your blouse, and you were desperate for the warmth of your bed. You toyed with the keys in your pocket, finger running across the ridges so that you could get in as quickly as possible, but you fumbled when you noticed a spark of crimson on your doormat.

It must have cost at least a hundred pounds. Rich, ruby red roses all neatly clipped and arranged, their petals healthy and as soft as butter, and the gold foil writing on the box was of a store on the other side of London, one you had been too intimidated to even step foot in. You assumed that it was for Mrs Kim upstairs, or perhaps a gift from Ron to Mark after they had one of their colossal rows, but as you reached for the label, you felt your brow furrow.

“It really was a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N). Regards, Tommy Shelby.”

You left them in your kitchen, squashed into the only vase you owned, clipping them practically to the wick to get them all to fit. You ignored them as you ate dinner, the radio nothing but noise in the background. You tried not to think of them as you sank into a scalding hot bath, or as you clambered into bed, and it worked - because what you thought of as you drifted off to sleep wasn’t ruby red roses, but ocean blue eyes.

——————————————————————

Two more bouquets came in two weeks. Both just as lavish and extravagant as the first, and both sitting in the biggest drinking glasses you owned. Your flat smelt like a florists’, and pollen lingered on your clothes all day, a constant reminder of the man who had sent them. You busied yourself with work, letting the day to day distractions of the injured occupy your mind. The hospital had needed an extra pair of hands and you needed experience, but when you finally returned to the library, you cornered Ada as she restocked the shelves.

“Oh (Y/N)!” She smiled, as pure and fresh as new snow. “It’s not been the same without you.”

“I don’t want a boyfriend.”You blurted out, eyes wide.

You had hoped to say something more eloquent, but Ada’s jet black hair and similarity to her brother made you fall pathetically at the last hurdle. Her eyebrows shot up, and you inhaled deeply. “Sorry, that came out wrong. Please tell Tommy, thank you for the flowers, but I’m not really looking for something right now.”

“Tommy sent you flowers?” There was curiosity evident in her voice as she stepped forward, heeled boot clicking against the floor.

“Well, more like three bouquets.”

“Wow.” Her brows almost reached the pendant light dangling from the ceiling.

“I thought you knew - I mean, I thought you gave him my address.”

She shook her head, a small smirk dancing in her face. “Nope. But that’s never stopped Tommy before.”

You exhaled, looking up at her and chewing on the bottom of your lip. “You know that I - I can’t. I don’t think I’m ready, you know, after everything...”

Ada was your closest friend, she had been since she arrived in London. Beautiful and intelligent, with her young son and quick wit - you remembered meeting her on her first day at the library, feeling nervous and intimidated by such a confident and clever woman, but barely a week passed and it felt as though you had known her your entire life. As the months flew by, the two of you would often go for drinks or dinner by the river, staying out till midnight and laughing until your ribs felt tough. She trusted you enough to let you babysit Karl, the little boy calling you his Auntie and making your insides swell with pride. And finally, on a warm summer night, with her cherry red lips and coal black eyeliner, the two of you watching the sun set from the balcony of her expansive house, she opened up to you.

As the sky darkened and you shared champagne and strawberries in the open air, she told you about her family and her past. Her voice was smaller than you had ever heard it, such a powerful woman almost seeming meek as she bore her soul to you. She told you about Freddie, the headstrong and golden hearted man she had fallen for, and you intertwined your fingers when she spoke about his death. She told you about her reasons for arriving in London, cautiously speaking about a gang that roamed the streets back home, you listened intently, eyes wide when she revealed that the main members were of her own blood.

She trusted you inexplicably, telling you things that she had burrowed away for years and that meant the world to you. So under the moonlight, you tipped your head back and emptied your glass, blinking back tears as you explained your own past, the one you had been running from.

Now though, she pressed a kind hand to your shoulder, her eyes softening ever so slightly and it broke you away from your thoughts.“You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’ll tell Tommy to keep his cock in his pants.” She winked at you, making you let out the breath that you had been holding, a relieved chuckle escaping from your throat.

She tugged your sleeve gently, motioning to the overflowing pile of dog eared novels by her feet. “Come and help me sort all this out.” She said “And let me fill you in on my date yesterday.”

Ada phoned Tommy as soon as she arrived home. He answered on the third ring, his voice tired and thick with smoke, his exhaustion evident through the speaker. One mention of you however, and he perked up like he had downed three shots of espresso. Work had been fucking awful, and imaging you and those rosebud lips was a pleasant distraction from the ache in his skull.

Ada told him to back off, and he could practically feel his sisters stern expression despite being 100 miles away from her. “She’s too nice for you Tommy, and not interested. Besides aren’t there enough girls in Birmingham? Why do you have to come after the one I’ve actually made friends with?”

Tommy had rolled his eyes. He loved his sister, but he didn’t feel like explaining his reasoning to her. He knew that she would never approve, never really understand him.

“You know I want you to find someone, especially after...” She inhaled sharply, choosing her words carefully. “Look, Tommy, you’ll find someone, but just not (Y/N), yeah? She’s been through a lot.”

He hummed, not voicing his real thoughts, always liking to keep his cards close to his chest. He said his goodbyes and hung up, Ada’s words lingering in his brain. His spine had stiffened at the implication of Grace, he hated being reminded of the past, especially memories he was trying so hard to forget. But it wasn’t just that, there was something about the words she had chosen that had sparked a fire in his gut.

“She’s been through a lot.”

He wasn’t quite sure what she was insinuating, but to him, it made you all the more alluring. He would never pursue a woman who truly wanted nothing to do with him. He might not have been the textbook definition of a ‘good man’ but he respected those who turned him down - although it was very much a rarity. But there was something about you, something about the way that you had held his stare, the innocence in your eyes and the attractiveness that hung around you like sugar water.

He loved the chase, especially when the reward was as sweet as you.

—————————————————————-

He waited outside your flat, hands in his pockets and peaked cap low on his head. It was almost six and he knew that you would be returning from the hospital soon, so he crossed his legs, leaning on the doorframe with a cigarette between his lips, secondhand smoke curling in the air.

He heard you before he saw you; the hiss of the cold air as you fought with the heavy door, the clunk of your patent loafers across the concrete and the jangle of your keys in your palm. He smiled to himself. Watching as you walked up the stairs, rifling through papers in your hands and then looking up suddenly, your eyes widening with shock.

“Tommy.” You said, filled with genuine surprise, clutching your handbag tightly, sure that you would drop it otherwise.

He liked the way his name sounded on your tongue.

He reached forward, steadying your wobbling hands and collecting the papers before they could scatter down the hallway. You stiffened at the contact, but he held you secure.

“Is Ada alright?” You asked quickly, hoping his impromptu visit didn’t come with bad news. He looked down and felt his stomach twist at the sight of your long lashes and shining wide eyes.

He shook his head. “My sisters fine. I actually came here for you.”

“Me?”

“Ada rang me, and I wanted to apologise for being so forward. It wasn’t my intention.”

You straightened, pulling slightly away from his hands. “You could have called, or written a letter.” The words came out slightly sharper than you had hoped, but you felt bristled by his sudden appearance.

He smiled. A half tug that looked boyish and cheeky, almost a smirk, and you hated the way that it made your heart flutter. “Well, yes, but that would have meant not seeing you in person.”

You fought back your own embarrassed grin, feeling blush rise from your throat to the plump of your cheeks. A flicker of humour sparked in his eyes, feeling triumphant at getting even the smallest of responses from you. The heat around your collar was turning such a delicious shade of red, like a honeycrisp apple, and it was hard for him to look away.

“Let me take you to dinner.”

You shifted on one foot, trying not to look into his milky blue eyes, knowing that if you did he would have you hook, line and sinker. “Tommy... I don’t know.”

“Just one dinner and I’ll be out of your hair.”

You exhaled, feeling yourself starting to cave. “Okay. One dinner. And nowhere fancy.”

Five minutes later and you were out the door. You had slipped off your work uniform and stepped into a lavender beaded dress and a pair of modest kitten heels. You hated the way you double checked your reflection in the mirror, smoothing out the stray hairs by your forehead, placing a cool hand to your chest to try and level your breathing. You didn’t put on any makeup, you weren’t trying to give Tommy the wrong idea.

You reminded yourself that you were just going to dinner, as friends. Nothing more.

Tommy watched you under the shimmering lights of the club. The rhythmic clash of the jazz band echoed all around him, beautiful women laughed and swayed on the dance floor, and the air was thick with smoke and bitter whisky, but his attention was solely cast at you.

Your head was down, and you were picking at the food on your plate. The expensive bottle of red wine sat opened in the middle of you both, your glass untouched and his filled halfway.The owner had recognised him immediately and sent over the gift, and he didn’t miss the caution that flashed on your face at the gesture.

“Are you sure you don’t want a glass?” He asked, voice smooth like silk.

You looked up at him. “No, thank you though. I have an early shift in the morning.”

He nodded, cutting through his steak, a sliver of blood on his knife. “How long have you been a nurse?”

He already knew, but he wanted to hear your answer.

“Well, I’m technically not a nurse - not yet. I’m still training, but I only have a few months to go.” You smiled, and he watched as your whole face lit up as you talked about your passion. “I’ve always wanted to do it. Now I finally am.”

“Well, I think that’s very admirable.”

“And what do you do?”

“Oh. I’m a bad man.” He said, as if it was the most causal thing in the world. His cobalt eyes flickered from his plate to you, holding you hostage in his gaze.“But I’m sure Ada’s told you all about that.”

You inhaled. “I try not to judge people based on rumours.”

“Even if they hold some truth in them?”

You didn’t say anything. You swirled around the spaghetti on your plate, spearing your fork through a pea. After a moment you cleared your throat, daring to look up at him.

“I think the world has changed. Times have moved on, and sometimes it requires a firmer hand to get where you want to be.”

Tommy paused, genuinely taken aback by your reply. You had been so timid and placid before, but now there was an intensity to your words, one that he found particularly alluring.

“It doesn’t mean that I agree, but - ” You sighed. “A few years ago, I was turned down by a nursing school; they said I was too young and too inexperienced and... it really shattered my confidence. I was going to give up completely, but instead I decided to keep studying, and I was working three jobs to just make ends meet. When I applied again I made sure that there was no way they would reject me.”

Your eyes flickered up momentarily as you chewed on your upper lip. “All I’m saying is, sometimes you have to work hard to get what you want.”

Tommy mulled over your words, tongue running over his teeth. He picked up the stem of his wine glass and held it towards you in a toast. His eyes caught yours and his stare was unwavering, the edge of his lips unturned in a boyish smirk.

“To getting what we want.”

———————————————————-

You really, truly, honestly, didn’t want to enjoy your dinner with Tommy - but you did. The night was so easy, after a while you managed to find a comfortable niche and the conversation flowed like running water. As time passed you found yourself giving into habits that you thought you had left behind, like tucking a loose curl behind your ear, or giggling into your hands, a warm shade of pink staining your skin. Tommy watched you, the anchor on his chest lifting slightly, the way it always did when he found himself getting his way.

He walked you home with his suit jacket draped over your shoulders; despite your protests, leaving you smelling like whisky sours and cigarettes. He could feel your apprehension as you stood under the archway of your apartment building. The wind had picked up and rain was drizzling onto the both of you, and his stomach tightened when you looked up at him with raindrops coating your eyelashes. He was waiting for you to speak first. If he had his way, he would be joining you in your flat, pressing you up against the wall and kissing your lips until they were swollen. He wanted to untangle the braid in your hair, unlace the dress that made you look ethereal and feel you breathless under him, but he remained patient.

The truth was that even though you had only spent one evening alone, the constant buzz of work and life in his brain had faded into static. (There was only one woman who had ever made it fully fade, but now he knew now to take whatever he could get). He had genuinely enjoyed the night, even without the guarantee of ending it in your bed. It was pleasant to spend a few hours talking about something other than business deals or brutality, to fill silences with stories about films you had seen or your misbehaving patients.

He would be satisfied with a goodnight kiss, to taste the sweetness of your lips and feel the curve of your waist under his palm. He liked the way that the nerves you had started the night with were flittering under your skin once again; it made him feel good, it made him feel wanted, it made him feel powerful. It would be enough to sate him over until the next time you met up - because believe him, there would be a next time - but even he couldn’t stop the flare of surprise that splashed over his face when you simply handed him back his jacket and darted up the stairs.

“Thank you for dinner, Tommy. Have a good night.”

Underneath the broken bulb in your hallway, with his expensive patent shoes slowly filling with water, he let out a loud, genuine, chuckle.

—————————————

A few days passed, and whilst your evening with Tommy still lingered in your mind, work was much too hectic for you to be wrapped up in distractions. There were no more surprise bouquets or unannounced visits, and no phone calls at the end of your shifts either, you knew you should have been relieved, but you couldn’t ignore the tiny flicker of disappointment. You decided to tell Ada, mentioning your dinner casually the next time that you saw her, dropping it into conversation as though it wasn’t a monumental piece of gossip.

“You did what?” Her voice echoed around the expansive library and you playfully shushed her, pointing to the people reading on the floor below.

“It’s not that big of a deal!”

“Psh! Easy for you to say!” She huffed, elbowing you in the ribs as she meticulously rearranged the books on the shelf in front of her. “I thought you were... you know...” She waved her hand like she was wafting smoke from her face, a clear indication of what she thought you were going to do to her brother.

You sighed, wiping the dust from a hardcover. “I know, I know. But he’s... charming.”

“Yeah, like a fox.”

You laughed at her blunt tone. She turned away and continued working, her shoulders shrugging with her movements. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I will, mum.” You tugged on the bottom of her hair like a child, making her meet your line of sight. “Honestly, Ada, it was a nice night, but it’s not like it’s going to go anywhere. I have no plans to see him again - ever.”

Your intentions were shattered as you left the hospital one evening, stopping dead in your tracks when you recognised the distinct peaked cap and felt the unmistakable domineering aura all around you. You tried to bite back the smile threatening to take over your entire face when you saw him leaning against a red brick wall, tall and cool, the kind of man that would have a million songs made about him.

You couldn’t deny the twist in your gut when he smiled at you, so cheeky yet smooth like rich dark chocolate. You felt the envious glances of the other nurses leaving their shifts around you, bubbling with jealousy and curiosity. You didn’t even care that you would be the main topic of discussion at the next tea break on Monday, as much as you hated to admit it, you felt like the world around you was blurring, leaving nothing but the two of you.

“Is this a social call, Tommy? Or should I get the first aid kit.” You called out under the noise of the streets around you, your voice deceivingly controlled.

He flipped his leather notebook closed, one you hadn’t even noticed he was so engrossed in, sliding it into his pocket and uncrossing his legs, his eyes shining with humour.

“No, not tonight. Although I’ll know where to come if I ever need it.”

You came to a stop just before him, not trusting yourself to get too close.“What can I do for you, Thomas?”

He didn't comment on the space you had left between you, but you knew that he had noticed it. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his wallet, nimble fingers rifling through until he pulled out two stubs of paper.

“I have tickets for the play tonight.”

You felt your eyes widen as he showed you the passes. You had made an offhand comment at dinner about wanting to see this particular play, one that you didn’t think he had even noticed, but he was obviously more observant than you had given him credit for.

“Wow. That’s great.” You smiled, “Well, I hope you have a lovely night.” You winked at him, turning on your heel but he grabbed the edge of your sleeve, pulling you back towards him.

“I think it’ll be a little rude of me if I show up alone, and besides, a lot of these things tend to go over my head, I think I might need somebody to help me understand everything.”

You wanted to resist. You wanted to tell him no. You wanted to be strong and admit that the fortress you had built around yourself wasn’t ready to start crumbling down, not just yet.

But you couldn’t.

You knew that this could all be a mistake. Letting people in wasn’t something you were used to, especially not someone as charming and handsome as Tommy. But you found yourself liking him, as though he had some kind of magnetic hold over you, pulling you closer even when you wanted to run.

“Tommy I - It’s kind of you, but I don’t think it’ll be wise.”

“Please.” He said, and hearing such a vulnerable word coming from his mouth made your throat constrict. “I know that I’m being forward and feel free to tell me to piss off, but honestly, I had such a wonderful dinner with you and I would love to take you out again. And besides, you’re my only friend here in London.”

“What about your sister?”

“Oh we’re really not that close.” He teased.

You laughed, chewing on your lip so harshly you thought you might draw blood. Despite the protests in your brain you reached out and took a ticket, looking up at him with those big eyes that made his toes curl.

“Fine.”

The theatre was beautiful. It was wide and open, with red velvet seats and high ceilings. It was the prefect escape, laughing and gasping with the audience as the actors fought and danced on stage, magnificent hand painted back drops making you feel like you were no longer in London. You ate truffle coated popcorn and drank glasses of champagne, all sent over by the ushers that recognised Tommy instantly, practically bowing to him when you both arrived.

But Tommy truly couldn’t care less for whatever was happening in front of you both, because he was completely captivated by you. He liked when you tipped your head back when you laughed, he liked the way your eyes lit up and followed the characters on stage, as though you were in a trance. He followed the curve of your nose and the pout of your lip under the cream coloured lights, unable to fight back the smile when you noticed him, blush rising up your neck like a tidal wave.

He walked you home that night, just like he had before, his jacket slung over your shoulders and his hand ghosting against yours. You seemed more open, your anecdotes a little more personal and your laugh a little louder, and he really felt like he might be getting somewhere. He liked making you giggle and the way you tucked into his side when a car raced by a little too fast, and he wasn’t even disappointed when you simply handed back his coat at the end of the night, a ghost of a smile on your lips - if anything it made him want you more.

The morning after the play, with eyes blurred from sleep and a migraine brewing behind your eyes, you found a still warm lemon loaf and a container of expensive coffee on your doorstep. You smiled as you tied your hair up messily with a powder pink ribbon you had around your wrist, placing the coffee inside by the kettle and half of the sickly sweet treat in your handbag, knowing you would need it to soften up Ada when you inevitably told her about the evening you had shared.

She had rolled her eyes and scolded you; reminding you to be cautious. And you wanted to be, really, but there was something about him that made you ignore the warning signs hammering in your chest, and before you knew it you were back under his arm when he next showed up on your doorstep.

He took you to a horse show on the other side of London, telling you that he needed another pair of eyes and a consultant for helping him choose a new mare. You had told him you knew nothing about horses, and yet he persisted, pulling you in with that damned smile and those ocean blue eyes. You had managed to get one over on him though, meeting him at his car the next day, dressed in a blood red gown that made his breath get caught in his throat. You looked beautiful, ethereal even, with your curled hair and shy eyes. And that colour red, the colour of sin against such a gentle soul made the fire in the pit of his belly reignite whenever he looked at you, but worst of all, was the way that colour reminded him of her.

He didn’t want to be wallowing in the past. So he allowed himself to get sucked into you, allowed the smell of your perfume and the sound of your voice and the warmth of your body distract himself from the blonde beauty that was clawing back into his mind.

He was waiting for you in his matte black car on his last night in London, and you tried to ignore the thump of your heart when you realised that he wanted to spend his final day in the city with you. He drove to Hyde Park, the sun was high and the sky was the cloudless, a long stretch of blue that seemed to go on forever. You walked across the grass, keeping your hands laced together so you wouldn’t risk brushing your fingertips against his, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to hide the goosebumps that would rise on your skin.You watched him smoke, inhaling and exhaling smoothly, blowing out nicotine like it was water, and he smiled when he caught your eye.

“Why did you bring me here today?” You asked finally, when the two of you came to a stop by the edge of the pond, watching the ducks and swans swim between the reeds.

“I like appreciating beautiful things.” He said, tilting his head so he was looking you in the eye.

You sighed, watching the sun reflect diamonds from the water. “I don’t understand you, Tommy, and that makes me nervous.” He didn’t know what to say, and so he let you continue. “How much has Ada told you about me?”

“Nothing. She’s a good friend.”

“She’s my best friend.” You murmured, and he watched the way your eyes glossed over, like you were replaying a million memories in your head. “You know, she told me to stay away from you.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

“I don’t know why you’re pursuing me.” Your voice was small, like the ripples that lapped over the top of the pond.

The truth is he didn't either. He knew it was wrong, using you as a way to get over Grace, but he’s never been known for having the most ethical methods. Doesn’t he deserve this? For everything he does, for the money he makes and the lives he’s built for his family, doesn’t he deserve something kind and pretty and gentle? Doesn’t he deserve a distraction from all the noise?

You reached into your handbag, rummaging around through the loose lipsticks and many receipts that you’ve shoved inside. He peered as you pulled out a small coin purse, rose coloured and no bigger than your palm. You unclasped the two little pearls at the top, and he noticed your fingers shaking ever so slightly, like a leaf in the wind.

You pulled out a picture and handed it to him, dog eared and greying but unmistakably you, laughing into the cheek of a young man, his arms slung over your shoulder. Tommy looked over at you, but you were watching the water, jaw clenched ever so slightly.

“Who is he?”

“Steven.” You cleared the lump residing in your throat, the one that always surfaced when you spoke about him. “We lived next door to each other, he was my first kiss, my first love, my first - everything.”

Tommy felt a pang in his gut like a sucker punch, he could hear the hurt in your words, he knows it too well, because it’s the same that echoes around his skull whenever he thinks about Grace.

You continued, “We were together since primary school, and all through secondary. I really thought we were going to be with each other forever.” You sniffled, and Tommy knows what you’ll say before you’ve even formed the words, because he’d been through the horrors himself. “He was a few years older than me though, and then he... and then he got drafted.”

“He was never made for the war. No one is, not really, but he was special. He was so kind and gentle and funny, and it wasn’t fair. We got married the day before he was sailing to France. I wore my mothers dress, it was too big and a few buttons were broken, but it was perfect. We were just kids in love.”

The silence that followed told Tommy everything he needed to know, and his gut felt heavy, like it was filled with lead. He wanted to reach out and touch you, the sadness radiating off of you like perfume, but he kept his hands to himself.

“How did it happen?” Tommy asked after a moment, knowing that you might not be able to bring up the subject unless he did.

“Second battle of Somme. Front line. They said he took the bullet instead of his comrade, jumped in the way to save him. They said he died quickly, that he wasn’t in much pain.”

“He died a hero.”

“He shouldn’t have died at all.”

Tommy agreed with that.

“The war took too many good men.” His voice was growing as sullen as his eyes, thinking back to a time that always sucked the life from him, his mind growing hazy with thoughts of the trenches and mud on his feet, sticky blood staining his hands.

“And destroyed those left behind.”

He inched closer to you. He was so tall and stoic, eyes focused on the water in front of you yet you felt completely seen, something about him making you feel content. Above you, the clouds were darkening, a chill whipping around you both. He brushed his shoulder against yours, the fabric making you shiver slightly, and he grabbed your wrist gently, intertwining your fingers with his, making the first move because he knew you couldn’t.

“Come on,” He said, voice raspy and thick like billowing smoke. “We don’t want to get stuck in the storm.”

The rain was torrential. It was almost comical how quickly the clouds gathered and darkened, spitting droplets from above that trickled down and splattered the both of you. You giggled as you ran to the car, Tommy holding his jacket above the two of you, your heels splashing through puddles. It felt like a weight had lifted from your chest, when you opened the car door and bolted inside, breathless and wild. It had always been hard to talk about Steven, the words getting stuck in your throat like thick honey, but the relief of having it out in the open was enormous. You didn’t realise just how much of the past you were holding onto.

Raindrops were scattered along Tommy’s fine leather seats, the bottom of your dress painted with a faint layer of mud. His windshield wipers squealed as the cleared away the water, the car thick with tension and heat rising from your damp bodies. It was late by the time you made it back to the centre of the city, the rain still cascading down loudly onto the pavement around you. You could hear your blood rushing to your ears, the kind of constant hum that made you feel as though you were being held underwater.

Your whole body was bubbling with apprehension, you could feel Tommy moving behind you, the edge of his jacket brushing against your arm. You couldn’t find your keys inside your handbag, struggling from adrenaline and the icy chill of the air. Wet hair clung to your forehead, and you were certain your mascara was halfway down your cheeks, and you turned to Tommy to apologise for your clumsiness, but he was already gazing at you.

You were looking up at him, so innocent and so gentle and so beautiful under the soft glow of the navy sky and the twinkling stars and all he really wanted was to kiss you senseless - so he did.

He tasted like sweet mint and nicotine, and you tasted like woodsmoke and wisteria. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, it wasn’t like stealing kisses in the alley when you were sixteen, or clumsy kisses in the bed you shared with Steven, this was intense and passionate and all consuming. Tommy allowed you to devour him, the smell of you overpowering his senses and he buried his soft aching hands in your messy hair.

His body was pressed against you, thick and hard against the velvet of your figure. You pulled away slowly, lips puffy and swollen and baby pink. You were blushing, red hot from nerves and exhilaration and you laughed sweetly against the crook of his neck, eyelashes fluttering against his flesh.

“Do you want to come inside?”

His fingertips were the paint coated brushes and your body was the perfect canvas. You reacted to his touch like it was everything you craved. Your kisses were open mouthed and messy, and he had to bite his tongue to stop the cascade of groans threatening to spill from his lips. Your pulses were synced, the low light of your bedroom made you look like a creature from a fairytale, and he touched you like you were made from glass. His hands were soft yet rough, you let him run his fingers through his hair and then leave bruises on your hip bones. He shuddered into your neck, sweat dripping onto your skin, whines leaving your mouth that he wanted to drill into his brain and remember for the rest of his life.

He was breathless. He closed his eyes as he laid down next to you, the sky outside black like coal. You had been perfect. He couldn’t hear the shovels. The usual constant battle in his brain was replaced by the salty memory of your skin, your hot breath against his ear, your legs tangling with his. He felt you next to him, curling into him slightly, your body still recovering and your toes twitching.

The bedroom was quiet, nothing but the creak of the wind against the window and the occasional pattern of rain against the glass. He felt his ears twitch when you opened your mouth, muffled and sleepy, a pang of sadness in your voice.

“Please don’t break my heart.”

He pretended to be asleep.

————————————————————-

He was gone when you woke up. You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting, but cracking your eyes open to the lazy sunrise and the emptiness of your bed was as painful as a bullet in your spine. You felt embarrassed, looking down at the marks of your skin as you scrubbed away the night in the bath, running a warm flannel over your skin so many times that your flesh turned red. You felt ashamed; ashamed that you hadn’t listened to your best friend and ashamed that you had put your trust in someone that you knew would hurt you.

But deep down, in the pit of your stomach, you couldn’t deny that you still liked him, still wished that he was with you. You knew it was wrong but you forgave him. You knew he had to leave early; perhaps he hadn’t slipped out the way you had thought, perhaps he had truly wanted to stay. You felt foolish and young and weak, but you missed the feeling of his lips and his skin, the weight of his hips against yours.

Two full weeks passed by until he showed up again. There were no calls, no surprise bouquets or impromptu visits, just the lingering feeling of shame on your body. You didn’t say anything to Ada, too mortified to admit that you had slept with her brother and he had run out before you had woken up. You knew that he was the one in the wrong, he was the one who deserved to feel like shit for treating you that way, but that didn’t stop the pounding of your own insecurities.

Rich raspberry wine and candied cherries, these were the remedy for a broken heart. You were sitting cross legged on the sofa, the radio crackling behind you, soft jazz lulling you into a relaxed daze. You were sewing the hem of one of your dresses, threading the needle and watching the stitches close. You had already downed two glasses of wine, loving the taste and the burn in your belly, and you groaned when you heard two sharp raps on the front door.

“Ron, did you forget your keys again?” You huffed, expecting to see your forgetful neighbour waiting for you, but almost catching your fingers in the door when you realised who it was instead.

“Hi.”

Piercing blue eyes and a jawline that could slice your palm, two things that you simultaneously adored and loathed. His hand curled around the door as you tried to slam it shut, pushing against you so it couldn’t be closed.

“Fuck off.”

“Please. Please. (Y/N).”

“No Tommy - Thomas. Fuck!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t give a shit.” You lied.

“Please just let me explain.” He said and you huffed, trying your hardest to not look at him for too long, it was like looking directly into the sun: painful and disappointing.

“I - No.”

“Please.”

Fuck him and that fucking voice.

You opened the door a crack, enough for him to slip through and into your flat. He looked so dark amongst the bright colours of your crockery and the yellow tulips planted on your windowsill. You moved backwards, trying to make yourself as small as possible, ignoring the ache growing inside of you, the ache to run into his arms and forgive him.

“I’m sorry for the way I left.” He scratched his forehead and cleared his throat, the sound echoing around the room. “There’s no excuse.”

“You made me look like a twat, Tommy.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.” You said, but you weren’t sure if you meant it, liking the vulnerability in his words, the tenderness of his voice soothing you despite your inner anger.

He lifted his palm to run through his hair, jet black coat cloaking over him like a shadow. You saw it then, under the light of the blue moon, a gash tearing through the skin on his wrist.

“You’re bleeding.” You stated, and you saw his eyes widen slightly, looking at the wound on his arm as if he hadn’t noticed it before.

“Huh.”

“God, Tommy.” You inhaled, sucking air through your teeth, “Let me clean it, it looks like it needs stitches.” You hated yourself for giving in, knowing that the cut wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t like he was going to be leaving your flat in a stretcher, but you still cared for him, despite everything.

The smell of antiseptic wipes and the tangy metallic taste of blood filled your bathroom. You pressed on him a little too hard, smiling as he winced slightly. Neither of you spoke, letting the silence hang between the both of you, almost tangible. You could feel his eyes on you, those fucking sparkling eyes following the curve of your nose and the wave of your hair, lingering a little too long on your lips.

“I really am sorry.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You bit through the gauze, measuring it against his skin, anything to not meet his line of sight.

“I have a habit of ruining good things.”

You scoffed. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to fall for that line?”

“I thought you might hit me if apologised again.”

Against your better judgment, you laughed. “Yeah, I might have.”

His palm, warm and heavy and reminding you of the pressure of his body on top of yours, clasped over your own, making you still.

“Have I fucked everything up?” He asked. You didn’t say anything, not trusting your own voice. You felt the roughness of his fingertips circling your skin, languid like waves lapping across the shore. He inched closer towards you, smelling like fresh crisp apples and old cigarette butts, managing to always be the perfect mix of chaos and control. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

You should have pushed him away, but you didn’t. You gave into the darkness of his blue eyes, the ring of lust forming around his pupils and the desire stirring in your belly like bubbling water. He tasted so sinful yet sweet and you were the perfect remedy for the terrible day he had, so receptive and angelic under his touch.

“If you rip your stitches, you’ll have to redo them yourself.”

He laughed into the soft, buttery flesh below your jugular, kissing your collarbones as his hands dragged you impossibly closer, lips crashing onto yours.

You fell asleep first. Hair cascading on your silk pillowcase, and he connected the freckles on your back like they were constellations. He could hear the gentle drip of the tap in the bathroom, and

the hum of the city around you. The noise in his head had stopped, but it still remained like a dull static in the back of his mind. He pushed it away though, focusing on the calming energy of your body and the tenderness of your touch.

He would be gone tomorrow.

He’ll let you wake up to him, he’ll drink the coffee in your kitchen and fuck you under the golden sunlight, open mouthed kisses shared in the confines of your apartment. But then he’ll leave again, giving you just enough to allow him to come back. He craved you, but it was medicinal, like a hit of opium when the shovels got too loud, not something he could afford to indulge in.

He looked over at you, fast asleep, your nose twitching slightly. He can’t give you what you want or what you deserve, but just for the night, in the quiet of your bedroom, with his hands on the curve of your hips, he’ll be the man that you want him to be.

—————————————————————-

His visits were sporadic and unpredictable. He would show up out of the blue, lurking around the back streets like a nomad, knocking on your door just before midnight, his hands covered in blood. On those nights you would clean him up, neither of you would speak as you washed away the crimson from his skin, rubbing ointment on the growing purple bruises on his knuckles. He would kiss you feverishly and wildly, desperate to feel your body so soft and pliant under his. Those nights he craved control, and you were the only person who would give it completely to him.

Sometimes he would show during the day, with a wide smile and an expensive suit, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. He would take you to dinner or for walks down the canal, you might sit curled in his lap at the pictures or perhaps drive to a new city, his hand in yours, allowing you to pretend that you weren’t just the girl he came to when he wanted to feel something.

He would take you gently, almost romantically. In the back of his car or at a hotel that cost more for one night than your months rent, moulding your body under his like clay. He’d make you moan for him, the prettiest sound he’s ever heard, and he’ll relish in the attention you’ll give him. You’ll be the one thing that calms him after a hard days work, it’ll be your body and touch that unclench his fists and help calm his mind. He uses you like snow, strong, hard hits that leave him gasping for breath.

He’d always be gone before the sunrises. He’d wait for you to be asleep, hair around your head like a halo, lips puffy and swollen from clashing with his, fingertip shaped bruises across your hips. He’d never stay long enough to hear the disappointment in your voice, see the gloss that coats your eyes, the hurt pounding in your chest.

It stings like alcohol on a wound even when you’re expecting it. When you wake up and your bed is cold and empty, and your body is missing the warmth of his. You’ll give yourself a few moments to cry, take a scalding hot bath and scrub his smell from your flesh, tell yourself over and over that this is the last time. Never again. But you know as you make your way home, with a clouded head and aching legs, that the next time he shows up, you’ll let him stay.

———————————————————-

It had been almost a month.

A month of complete silence. You felt stupid but not surprised, the sadness nothing more than a dull pain in your chest now. You felt like you were just existing, not living. Constantly waiting for him to show up at your door and make your world start spinning again. You tried to distract yourself with work, but hearing the ladies gossip in the cafeteria about their loving boyfriends and amazing dates made the hole in your heart throb.

You hadn’t told Ada what had been going on, but she was your best friend, and you were certain she had already sussed it. You’d been skipping shifts at the library, spending more of your time cooped up in your flat or the hospital, opting for overnight shifts, anything to distract you from the loneliness of your bed.

Your cupboards were bare, cups of tea gone cold dotted all over your flat, and cobwebs starting to appear in the corners of your walls. You needed to go to the grocer and buy something that wasn’t bread or wine or chocolate. You were rooting through your purse, hands smelling like copper when you heard the shrill ring of your doorbell. Your heart stopped, but you didn’t get your hopes up; you were done waiting around for him like a bloody border collie.

You could see her silhouette behind the door, raven coloured ringlets and red lipstick. You sighed, running your fingers over the creases in your jumper before you opened the door, expensive french perfume wafting into your flat.

“You’re avoiding me.” She said sharply, waltzing inside, thick fur jacket brushing past you.

“No I’m not, Ada.”

“Yes you bloody are!”

You watched as she rummaged through your cupboards, pulling out two glasses and then flopping down on your sofa and patting the seat next to her. She grabbed a bottle of vodka from inside her handbag, almost bigger than your head, and she started to pour.

“Tell me everything.”

So you did. It was embarrassing and awkward, but damn did it feel good to get off your chest. Ada sat watching intently, pursing her lips and sighing when appropriate, burgundy nails tapping on your table when she got particularly annoyed. She threw her head back and finished her second glass, faint cherry red staining the rim.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a shit friend.” You apologised, gulping the remaining droplets of your own drink. “I just - God, I had no idea what to tell you.”

“You know you can tell me anything.” Her voice was ernest and for the first time in a long time you actually felt like you could breathe, Ada always had that effect on you. She had a way of making people feel comfortable.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” You sighed, cradling your knees to your chest. “I was too embarrassed.”

“It’s not your fault, babe, Tommy’s a dickhead!” She shoved you lightly and you smiled halfheartedly. “And I would tell him that in person! Not that I’ve seen him since Grace came back.”

You felt your spine go rigid.

“Grace?”

Annoyance painted Ada’s face, and she pursued her lips like she was sucking on a lemon.“He didn’t tell you about her? That she came back?”

Not explicitly, but she had always been there. Ada had once told you about her brothers lover, the beautiful blonde vixen who had turned his world on its axis. That was partly why you were so hesitant, knowing you couldn’t compare to a woman like her, but Tommy had made you trust him, and look how that turned out.

Now you were slapped with the cold, hard truth, and it hurt.

She was the woman always on the tip of his tongue, the one that he saw when he closed his eyes. You were the body he used, the temporary buzz and the hit of pain relief, but she was the one he really wanted, the woman he pretended you were.

“No. Must have slipped his mind.” You laughed falsely, feeling tears build behind your eyes. You inhaled, your voice quiet. “But Grace - she was the one wasn’t she? You know, the one who...”

The one who broke his heart. The woman he loved, the woman he really wanted.

She hesitated, but then nodded sadly. “Yes.”

“God I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“I’m sorry baby.” Ada pulled you into her arms, cradling you against her chest like she was comforting her son. You let the tears fall, felt them cascading down your cheeks like a waterfall. Ada stroked your hair and pulled you close, and you closed your eyes, finally giving into the sadness.

———————————————————-

It was slow - the healing process. Falling back into a routine of work and chores, and eventually starting to laugh and smile again. You passed your final exam with flying colours, finally becoming a registered nurse. Ada was there with Karl, cheering you on when you left the hall with papers in your hands. You continued working at the library, hiding behind the bookshelves at the back with Ada, clutching your stomach from laughing so hard, your knees weak. You made new friends with the ladies at work, visiting clubs and bars on the weekends, trips to the pictures after a long day on the job. You even got asked out on a date, with a handsome doctor called Dennis who always made you a cup of coffee in the morning and saved you the donut with pink sprinkles he knew you liked.

It took time, but you were finally starting to feel the wound scab over, but of course, a hurricane in the form of a smart mouthed gangster was just enough to blow down everything you had worked so hard in repairing.

Three months of no contact had passed.

It was late. Hot water billowed around you as you stirred your tea bag, inhaling the sweet smell of cinnamon and lemon. You pulled your satin robe tight against your skin, admiring the soft blush pink colour and shuffling towards the bedroom in your matching slippers. You hummed as you turned down your bed, longing for the sweet embrace of your covers, but you were pulled from your daydream by pounding on your front door. You sighed, ignoring it and continuing to fluff your pillows, but when it didn’t stop, you frowned and stormed towards the assailant.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” You muttered, swinging the door wide open, but the words evaporated like ocean spray when you came face to face with the man you least wanted to see. It was such a cruel sense of deja vu, and you could feel your face growing red hot with anger.

“Get the fuck away from me.”

He ignored you, stepping over the threshold and back into your life. You held your hands up, defensively and aggressively, your brain not knowing whether to fight or fly. You inhaled loudly, you didn’t want to give in, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you upset.

“Please, Tommy. Just go.”

“I needed to see you.” His words were quick, raspy and urgent, but you brushed them off like they were nothing.

“You’ve seen me, now leave.”

“Not without speaking to you. Let me explain.”

“Was she busy?” You spat. “Is that why you’re here? She’s away so you think you’ll just come and see me and I’ll let you in? Let you touch me? Fuck you, Tommy.”

His eyes were wild, frustration painting his features. “It’s not like that.”

“Not like that?” You spat. “Not that you were using me as a tool to get over another woman? After everything I told you - ” You stopped, not wanting to think about your past. It was too painful.

He came closer, walking towards you so cautiously and softly you might have laughed. “Just hear me out.”

“Why the bloody hell should I listen to you?”

He shrugged exasperatedly, your words striking his skin like a branding, because you were right. He had no moral high ground or proper explanation for the way he had treated you.

“I’m fucked up. Too fucked up for you.” And he’s telling the truth. You’re so pretty and honest and kind, even when you’re crazy with rage, your whole body is practically buzzing with anger and you’re still so beautiful and light and he knows that he ruined you. You trusted him, you confided in him, and he still left.

“I can’t believe I was falling so such a goddamn righteous asshole!” You seethe, raking a hand through your hair. His eyes widened but you merely scoffed, if looks could kill he would have been swallowing dirt. “Don’t act like you didn’t know. Don’t act like you have no idea what I was feeling for you.”

He didn’t know what to say, and he could his stone cold heart breaking.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You sniffed. “This is the last time I want to see you.”

“Just let me stay, let me make it up to you.”

He moves closer, wanting to feel your hair between his fingers, the soft embrace of your touch and the sweetness of your lips. Things had been going wrong all day, the business struggling and the cops getting suspicious and all he could think about was holding you. He wanted to try, he needed to feel you, he needed to feel something real. He wanted to apologise, pull you under him and make the both of you forget. For one more night he didn’t want to be Tommy Shelby, he just wanted to be the man who got to hold you.

You inhaled. “I’m seeing someone else.”

He felt a knife slice through his abdomen. He had no right to feel the shock and jealousy prickling through his skin, not after what he had done, but he still felt the raging green envy bubbling inside of him. He was being completely unreasonable and cruel, but a part of him had really hoped you would wait for him, but it’s that unfair mentality that had cost him.

“What?”

“I’m seeing someone - someone from work.” You said, finally gaining the nerve to stand up for yourself, wanting to wash away six months of your life you had given to him. “We’ve been going out for the past few weeks.”

“Who is he?” His tone was more demanding than he meant it to be, the shock and twinge of insecurity he felt from your announcement was making his words sharper.

“You don’t get to ask me that.”

He needed to take back control of the conversation, he needed to explain. He knew just how much he had fucked up, he’d been gone for too long this time, and his own selfishness might have cost him the best thing he had going for him. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“No, you just never meant for me to find out.”

“That’s not true, (Y/N). Listen to me, I - ”

“I have a busy day tomorrow, Thomas.” You said firmly, putting your foot down and refusing to let him try to right his wrongs - you had worked too hard on moving on. The hidden meaning in your words made Tommy’s jaw clench, his hands reflexively flinching at his sides. “So, please, just... just go.”

You were crying, but trying so hard to hide it. He could see the gloss coating your eyes and the flush rising from your chest, as though your body was leaking sadness from every pore. He felt his heart pound against his ribs. He was so used to getting what he wanted, in business and in private, and yet he felt like he might have just lost it all. So he turned and left, shutting your front door and trying to tune out the sound of your sobs, feeling even more empty inside then when he had arrived.

—————————————————————

He finally got what he wanted.

Grace was sitting opposite to him, her knees brushing against his, her smell so familiar and dizzying, but yet it didn’t feel right. She was a vision in a sea foam dress, with her sunshine coloured hair and perfect features, her eyes filled with a million stars that he could once spend hours getting lost in, but not anymore.

It felt so fake, so forced. The conversation didn’t flow, his words were stagnant, getting caught in his throat. She was looking right at him, the same way she did when they would wake up tangled in one another, at a time in his life that he used to think he was the happiest.

But maybe that had changed.

He was finding pieces of you in her. He knew that Grace only drank red wine, but out of habit he almost poured her a glass of bourbon; because that was what you liked. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, the same way you did. How the shawl draped over her shoulders would look perfect on you.

He was sitting across from the woman of his dreams, but none of it felt right, because she wasn’t you.

Perhaps his dreams had changed.

He tuned out Grace as she spoke, her voice not calming him as it once had. All he could think about was what he had lost. He had been a prick, he knew that for certain. He hadn’t meant to not call you, to leave you in the lurch like he did, he just didn’t like anyone getting too close.

When he was in Birmingham he was the leader of the Blinders. He was smart and strong and thought things through so nobody else had to. He was the kingpin, the man who ruled with an iron fist and got exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it. But with you, in London, he had allowed himself a sliver of peace. He let himself sleep next to you, peach coloured moon dancing over your bodies, curtains blowing in the wind. After a long day he found himself driving to see you. Wanting to see that shy smile that would make his knees buckle, feeling like a teenager even when he had beat a man half to death mere hours before.

You were a forest fire. Just a small spark, the smell of your hair, the velvet of your skin, the sound of your laugh, and his entire world was alight. He remembered taking you out, the feel of your small hand against his, genuinely wanting to know how your day had been. He remembered the sound of your laugh, when he had you pressed up against the window of his car, in between ticket stubs and cigarette butts and road maps, unable to stop the grin making its way onto his own face.

Even in the months he was gone; when Campbell came back and turned his world back to shit, in the quiet of his office, his mind always wandered back to you. He thought about you whenever he saw fog rolling over the hills or he felt rain patter across his shoulders, he would lose himself for a moment and his brain would conjure up a picture of you. When he saw John and Esme at the Garrison, soft gentle touches reserved for one another, that stupid dopey grin on his brothers face, he thought of you.

It was more than just sex and he was a fool for thinking that that was all it had been.

“Tommy? What’s the matter?”

It was Grace. Her voice like ripe berries and warm milk, but entirely wrong. He blinked, remembering where he was, feeling the velvet of the sofa under his suit. She smiled when she realised she had captured his attention, slightly smug and self assured, and she continued her story of the joys of living in New York.

Tommy looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since they had met up. Here they were, in a five star hotel room outside of Birmingham, with champagne and caviar and imported chocolates. But she’s married, to somebody else. And yet, she had rang him and expected him to drop everything and join her.

He almost laughed at the irony of the situation.

Grace was like the first sunshine after being caught in a storm, but perhaps he’d grown to like the rain. He’d been chasing her for too long, like a fucking puppy, and now she was sitting centimetres apart from him, and he realised that she didn’t look all that magical. He thought about the anguish he felt when she left, the pure heartache that almost split him in two when he found out she had married another man, the pain of sleeping alone once more - and it makes him falter, because that’s exactly the same way he’d treated you, and you deserved so much more.

He knew Grace wanted. She wanted to fuck. She wanted to feel something other than her pathetic new husband, she craved the feel of power and the memory of what it’s like to run around with the devil. Her hand moved from the stem of her wine glass to the top of his thigh, a gentle, almost timid touch, testing the waters before she fully submerged. This is what he’d wanted since the very minute she boarded that train, to be back with the woman he loved, but now her soft caress feels like a slap. She didn’t notice his internal struggle, wine drunk and ready to fall back into his arms, but all he could picture was you with another man, his hand resting on the silk of your skirt.

He felt the familiar tick in his jaw, the way his knuckles flexed unconsciously, he knew he had no right but jealousy was eating away at him. How fucking stupid had he been? And now another man would have the pleasure of taking you out, making you laugh and blush under diamond chandeliers. Another man would get to walk you home, listen to your voice and then kiss you under the silver moon. He couldn’t even bear to think of the next part, the mere thought making flames ignite around his pupils.

“Tommy?” Grace asked, her eyes big and round like saucers, lips parted and just waiting to be pressed against his. She watched as he stood up, his knees clashing against the bar cart, far more flustered than she had ever seen him before.

“I have to go.”

———————————————————-

The club was loud, the bands instruments following you everywhere you went. The room was painted red and gold, shimmering lights and glowing pink shades reflecting from every surface. You were in a booth in the corner, nursing a glass of bourbon and eating sweet green olives, vinegar and alcohol on your tongue. Dennis was sat opposite, clad in a fine suit with a fresh haircut and laughing at his own anecdote, his hands gesturing wildly as he retold a story you had already forgotten.

You liked him, you did. He was nice and funny and handsome, - but he didn’t make sparks dance on your skin when he touched you, and he didn’t occupy your mind every second you were apart. Maybe that was for the best, maybe you needed to be sensible and date with your head, not your heart, because that was why you always got hurt.

You mind had been muddled since Tommy came back. All of your hard work had crumbled to pieces when he had knocked on your door. It was beyond frustrating, the way that he managed to crawl back inside your conscience with just a few words. You tried to blink away everything that happened, focusing on Dennis sitting on the other side of the booth, losing yourself in his kind smile and bright eyes.

He reached out and patted your hand with his, and you noticed how smooth his fingers were, not like the rough calloused pads that you could remember digging into your thigh and - you stopped, determined not to let your mind wander. You weren’t being fair to Dennis, he deserved someone who would give him their undivided attention, and didn’t spend the evening think of another man.

You let Dennis order another round of drinks, the conversation coming back round to the hospital - the only thing you seemed to have in common. You were just about to ask after a patient who you had heard wasn’t fairing very well, when you heard a commotion coming from the main hall. You raised your eyebrows and twisted around, trying to get a better view but you were blocked mostly by the sea of bodies. You turned to look at Dennis, but watched his own gentle brown eyes fill with shock.

“I need to talk to you.”

Fucking hell.

You felt flames licking your skin and ice cold water on your head at the same time. That stupid brummie accent that made your toes curl even after all the shit he had put you through. You saw surprise flash across Dennis’ face, his brows knitted at the stranger who had approached your booth. You didn’t want to turn around and face him, but you didn’t want the situation to get out of hand. You risked it. Swivelling in your seat so you could see him fully, your eyes flittering over the curls in his hair and the dammed sea blue colour of his irises.

“Tommy.” You kept your voice as level as you could, but it was proving hard. “Tommy, what the hell are you doing here?”

“We need to talk, come outside with me.”

His stare was so heated that it almost made you feel uncomfortable, and his hair was tousled, the way it always got when he ran his hands through it repeatedly. You could tell he was jealous, not missing the way his eyes had darted to Dennis’ hand covering your own. You could see the clench of his jaw and the tension in his forehead and it made you feel good, it was about time he had a taste of his own medicine.

“She doesn’t have to go anywhere with you.” Dennis said, rising from his chair so he could meet Tommy’s line of sight. You reached out and squeezed his wrist slightly, willing him not to get involved, not for your sake, but for his own.

“I’ve had a a really fucking long day and I think that it’s best if you don’t piss me off.” Tommy spat, his voice husky and exasperated, pointing a finger across the table. Coming face to face with you and your new lover was enough to tear the strings that were holding him together, he wasn’t a patient man and all he wanted was to explain himself, but it was hard when he was in such a jealous haze. His mind and his mouth weren’t working as one, he was losing his composure, and quickly.

“Stop it.” Your voice was stern, cold enough to turn him to stone. You could feel dozens of eyes on you, watching you all like you were performing at a play, mouths agape and eyes wild with anticipation. You blinked up at Tommy and you could see him soften, the hurt evident in your features enough to make him want to tear out his hair, furious at himself for how he always fucks things up.

You turned to Dennis, heart clenching as he held his ground despite being much smaller and a million times less intimidating then the gangster behind you. You gave him an apologetic look, knowing that the only way to diffuse the bomb that was Thomas Shelby was to speak to him alone.

“Thank you for everything, Dennis.” You said, shaking your head at the insanity of it all. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me for how this evening has turned out.”

He brushed off your words, as gentlemanly as ever, shooting a harsh look at Tommy. “Are you sure you’re alright going with him?”

You could see Tommy open his mouth to spit back something, his hands clenched at his sides, but you pushed him roughly in the torso and stormed past, heading for the back doors.

Your face was hot and red with shame, you could still taste alcohol on your tongue, but it had turned bitter and sour. You could hear him behind you, his expensive shoes clattering on the cobbled streets, his heavy exhales in the dark. He reached out, his touch timid and reserved despite the scene he had just created. At the feel of his fingers on your upper arm you pushed him off, walking further away into the alley.

“(Y/N)!) He called, but you ignored him, wiping away your tears before swirling on your heel, voice laced with venom.”

“It wasn’t enough for you to break me back at my flat?” You shouted, hearing your heart shatter with every syllable. “You had to come and do it in public too? What the fuck is wrong with you Tommy?”

“I know. I know.” He came towards you but you stumbled back, holding up a finger to keep him away from you. “I shouldn’t have made a scene.”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” You cried, it was hard enough to even try to get over him, but now he was making it impossible and you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

“I’m in love with you.”

You couldn’t stop the tears now. It was the words you had been begging him to say, the words that you had wanted to hear since you had first met, but they just made you weep harder. His face was so ernest, more honest than you had ever seen it, but it was so goddamn hard to believe him.

“You’re not in love with me, Tommy.” You murmured, swallowing the thickness in your throat. “You just want me because you saw me with another man.”

He shook his head, reaching out to touch you under the yellow glare of the streetlights. The feeling of you in his arms was so right to him, so familiar and warm that it felt like coming home. The tear streaks on your cheeks shone like the stars above the two of you, so beautiful and so heartbreaking and he needed to let you know how he felt.

“I’m in love with you.” His voice was firm, and even though you wanted to you couldn’t look away from him, trapped in his gaze. “It’s always been you. And I should have told you sooner.”

You stopped, everything you had wanted to say evaporated like ocean spray around the two of you, the water crashing so loud you could hear it in your ears. You were tired, and confused, half of you wanted to slap him and the other half wanted to fall into his arms. Instead, you sat down on the curb, feet planted in the gutter, dropping your head in your hands.

“I need a cigarette.”

Tommy smiled. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his packet and a lighter, giving you a smoke before lighting the end, watching the flame flicker in your eyes. You took three long drags, trying hard to control your breathing and rivalling emotions before you spoke again.

“How did you find me?”

He inhaled, puffing on his own cigarette. “I’ve had men watching you since the first time we met.”

You snapped around to face him. “You’ve fucking what?”

“You really think I was going to let you go around the city without protection?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“I know.”

The silence was deafening and you hated how you instinctively wanted to move by his side, press your body up against his for warmth. Instead you looked up at the navy coloured sky, counting the stars and pretending you couldn’t feel him watching you.

“I fucked up.” He spoke. “ I used you and I hurt you.”

You bit your lip to try and stop the tears from falling once again.

“I was heartbroken because of Grace, and I needed a distraction.”

“A distraction.” You repeated.

“I’m sorry. It’s redundant now, I know. But I am. I fucked everything up and I’m sorry.”

The tension between you was almost palpable, like the nicotine that was surrounding you both. You could feel the sincerity in his tone, but you also knew that he could talk a man out of his house if he really wanted to.

“Did she turn you down?” You countered, facing him. “Is that why you’re here with me?”

He shook his head, tongue running over his teeth, wisps of smoke leaving his lips. “I saw her for the first time tonight.” He said, honestly. “I sat across from her and I realised that she meant nothing to me, not anymore.” You felt him beside you, the pressure of his thigh digging into yours, desperate to get you to look at him.

“It was just sex.” You muttered, looking for some kind of safety net to stop you from making the same mistake, no matter how badly your heart is pleading you to fall onto him.

“Don’t fucking say that. Don’t lie to me.” He stammered, as though your words had truly hurt him.

“You treated me like shit, Tommy. How can I ever trust you?”

“I can’t promise I won’t fuck something up. I’m a bad man and I do bad things, but I swear, right, on my fucking life - that I will never do anything to hurt you.”

He was so close to you. The strong man so weak as he brushed his nose against yours. He felt years younger, and felt the overwhelming ache to drag you into his arms and kiss you senseless.“I need you with me. I can’t do any of this without you - And will spend every day proving to you just how much you fucking mean to me.” He whispered, words trailing off into the

crown of your hair.

You couldn’t stop it. All of the warning bells in your head extinguished like candles, and all you could think about was him. He had hurt you, dug a knife into your rib cage and left you to bleed, and perhaps a better woman would have left him sitting in the gutter, but you knew that the two of you were bound together - just as beautiful and broken as one another.

You shook your head, looking up at him through your eyelashes, the man who had turned your life upside down. You didn’t want to think anymore - so you didn’t, instead you smashed your lips onto his, making his head spin wildly, losing himself in you.He’s always had a high tolerance, but somehow, just one touch, just the brush of your lips against his, the heat of your breath on his skin, has him utterly, completely, wasted

“Please don’t break my heart.” You said, reminiscent of the first time you had slept together, pressing your forehead against his. He breathed you in, the smell of violets and salt, warm coffee and vanilla, the scents that he wished he could bottle. He pressed his lips to yours, claiming you as his as much as proving he was yours. He relished the taste of you, his kisses greedy and passionate, making sure that you were still there and knowing that he would never let you go again.

“I won’t.”

And it’s a promise he’ll keep.

[emmmmmit]

Yeah, you got me with the style lol Tho who in Mankai knows how to dress eh (I do find Tasuku's haircut okay tho but maybe I'm biased). Who are your faves and least faves then? That might be interesting ehehe

I mean some of the way the people dress is atrocious but like a few of them are fine. I'm also gonna throw in hairstyles cus why not??

Worst and best hairstyles and character casual outfits in A3! (imo)

 Worst outfits

5) Masumi-

Okay but if you wear a long sleeve under a fucking jacket you deserve to get made fun of

AND ITS DARK COLOURS TOO- HONEY HOW DO YOU NOT OVERHEAT

It's a weird pattern- but I like it alright??

also-

Either get rid of the button-up underneath or the damn jacket

4) Omi-

Lose the fucking vest alright??

3) Juza-

Okay, I get the sandals since I live in a place where it gets to 100F on a daily basis- but no, even I don't like sandals (exposing you toes? No thamks). probably lives in a place where its much cooler- get some sneakers

2) Taich and Sakyo-

Too much!

Sakyo could lose a layer of clothes

And can taichi lose the damn reverse hat and bandana??

1) Banri-

*gags* do i have to explain?? 

First of all wearing leopard print on plaid

The thingy that has the leopard print is a vest- fucking lose it 

LITERALLY CUT OFF THE DAMN VAMPIRE COLLAR THING YOU GOT GOING ON

WHY ARE YOUR JEAN CUFF SO DAMN LONG

Best outfits

5) Guy and Citron-

Omfg so schmexy

Like??? I see no flaws

4) Itaru-

I see gamer boy- I see no flaws

Literally, how can he be a gamer and look hot - its not fair

3) Yuki-

YES-

THIS IS MY STYLE

LIKE?? SO FUCKING CUTE

The only reason why I'm iffy is because of the boots?? Like seriously?? Brown?? Why not black ones??? They go with more outfits

2) Tsumugi-

Like?? He reminds me of my sister-

They also dress similarly

Like?? It's kinda comforting to me in a way??

So that's my reason for it being so high

1) Chikage-

LOOK YALL KNW IM A SIMP FOR HIM

BUT THAT DOESNT AFFECT THE FACT I LOVE HIS OUTFIT

LIKE???? IT LOOKS SO COMFORTABLE

AND WARM 

Worst hair

5) Tenma-

Carrot

Pumpkin

Sweet potato

Acorn squash

Bell pepper

4) Tasuku-

Okay Chad, how far do you want me to throw the ball??

3) Citron-

He looks better than me and that's why it's so low

2) Sakyo-

Fucking Karen.

1) Banri-

 YOU GREASY FUCK

WASH YOUR HAIR AND GET IT CUT PLEASE

Best hair

5) Taichi and masumi-

Okay lemme explain-

Its kinda a look 

Like?? Okay honey i see you- i like it

4) Itaru-

It looks fluffy and he has an ombre of dark to light

Like? Y e s

3) Homare-

It looks funky- i love it, please never change it

2) Misumi-

OMBRE OF BLUE TO PURBLE IS A YESSIR

1) Azuma-

Like??? Its so long

And it makes him look so schmexy like???

I just wanna put it in some french braids pls

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm so sorry about me not uploading that much recently- I've been trying to get school work done and trying to write when I get the motivation to do so- which hasn't been much recently. My posts will probably be less frequent as I'm trying to maintain good grades in school and keeping up with my music as well.

[smol-and-trashy]

DimiClaude Vore (FE3H) 1/2

A/N: I’m cutting this fic into 2 parts because my motivation is waning and it’s turning out longer than I originally thought. This part is literally all description and Dimi being like “im inside a thing, but what is it? hmmmmm-ing intensifies.” and I’m deceased. Warning for unaware vore (but that’s on the tin), OOC-ness, and mentions of digestion. Enjoy :) 

____________________

The incessant pounding of a nearby heartbeat stirs Dimitri out of his slumber. He groggily rises, his first thought drawing from the heartbeat, thinking that he perhaps fell asleep on somebody after growing weary from a recent battle. His face flushes—it would explain the volume and closeness; however, as his eyes flutter open, he immediately notices that this is not the case. 

He’s inside a cavern of sort, he had to be, what else would explain the liquid dripping from the ceiling and the ever present puddles of water? 

Dimitri curiously takes a step forward, but finds his boot sink into the fleshy ground. Flesh? How could this be? His pulse picks up, nothing about this cave made any sense, the whooshing from above, the constant wetness, and what kind of caves had pliable floors? 

He wishes for a lantern to illuminate his surroundings, perhaps then, he could see what kind of cave confined him. Dimitri inhales slowly and while ignoring the surreal sensation of the odd flooring molding around his feet, he walks forward, trying to gather clues of where he could possibly be. As the blond trudges blindly, he notices a slight dip which makes him lose balance and lands him face-first to a squishy wall. 

Dimitri’s eyes widen, caves shouldn’t have soft walls, they should be hard and rocky. None of this made any sense. 

His heart is thrumming like a hummingbird beneath his ribcage, almost painfully fast. The notion that he may not even be in a cave at all is becoming more fitting. 

Dimitri reaches for his lance but finds his sides bare. Not only was he trapped in this… area, but he had no weapon of protection. He clenches his jaw as sparks of rage, and pure frustration begins to nip from under his skin; however, he squashes those feelings down, choosing to focus on a way out over letting his temper get the best of him. If he entered this pit somehow, there had to be an exit. 

No, before on deciding on an exit strategy, figuring out where exactly he was would be more efficient, and then he could use that to escape. He paws around his surroundings, trying to check off what qualified as a possibility of where he was. Cave? Does not explain the plush walls. Kidnapped in a sack? Does not explain the wetness… Or…It could be raining outside, and the water was leaking considerably inside the sack. Dimitri’s face lit up before turning grim, figuring out that he may have been kidnapped was not much of a consolidation prize. 

Dimitri’s face darkens as straightens his back and calls out, 

“Release me!” it was a poor attempt to gain his captor’s attention, he’d admit, but unarmed and having few advantages on his side, he decided to speak to his kidnapper before doing anything rash or could possibly be turned against him. 

There’s no initial response, but the thumping from above quickens while the sack gurgles and convulses? Dimitri freezes, feeling rooted despite the shifting of his surroundings. The idea that he could be inside a creature never came into fruition until now, but it all clicked. The whooshing noise was the beast’s powerful lungs, the heavy, constant thumping was a heart, and the odd chamber that seemed to never stop moving…. a stomach. He thinks to himself, the sheer thought of being inside an organic prison, filled to the brim with lethal acids, sends shivers down his spine. He would be digested alive and not have a clue of the beast he was inside of. Dimitri’s eyes narrow, going by the size of the organ and how he so easily able to fit, the only fathomable guess would be a Crest Monster; but, forgetting the memory of getting close enough to the beast to be eaten? Was he rendered rendered unconscious? Perhaps he had passed out in battle, and someone had taken his unconscious body as feed to the beasts. Still, that rationale didn’t add up. He had always been careful, always precise, so being betrayed, and fed to a Crest Monster could not have been true. Yet, his surroundings tell a different story. 

The overwhelming heat, the puddles of liquid increasing, and stale air, all point to being inside a living creature. 

A warm molasses envelopes him as he can hear the rush of the lungs get louder, and the gurgles intensify; everything is too loud, too crushing. Dimitri’s teeth clench as white-hot anger bleeds through his body. He surges forward to the nearest wall and digs his nails into the ridged walls, ignoring the giant heartbeat pick up frantically, he tears into the walls, scratching and grasping until they bled: this monster will spit him out, or he’ll tear his way out. 

His fit didn’t last long as the chamber lurches, earning a gasp from his captor; a loud groan shakes his surroundings, and Dimitri finally stops. His body is tense, animalistic, and he’s breathing heavily. If Felix were to see him now, he knew exactly what he would say, imagining the clear disdain written in those amber eyes.  

“You’re nothing but a bloodthirsty boar.” 

Dimitri shakily exhales, trying to compose himself, yet he can’t. If he just lets himself get digested by this monster, everything he fought for would be for naught. His brows knit together, focusing on the inky darkness before him and as he’s about to throw an exhaustion fueled punch to the walls, he hears a very familiar voice surround him. 

“Nah, it’s nothing. I’ve survived off feeling way worse.” the slightly strained voice of Claude echoes, he’s clearly feeling more pain than he’s letting on, but for now, that’s not the point—

He’s inside Claude? 

[bubmyg]

just another day - myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: lovers to...lovers?, non idol!au, fluff, like tooth rotting, aching, falling out of your head fluff, im so sorry ajfklsaf

word count: 3,521

a/n: part 7 of to lovers and a follow up to the piece i posted last year on valentine’s day which means it’s been a year since i started posting bts writing!! it’s been a fun time and here’s to many more fun times :-) if you’re looking for the piece in question, it’s just titled “valentine’s day” and it’s listed under the “blurbs” section of my masterlist but it does not have to be read to understand this piece (although i do reference it a fair few times)!! also, the rest of to lovers is linked on my masterlist :’-)

Yoongi wrinkled his nose at the ridiculously large, heart shaped balloons clinging to a standee chalkboard all while adjusting the, ridiculously, large bouquet of flowers in his arms. His swift steps over cracked sidewalks paused as he considered the balloons for a moment, then the soft petaled tips of pastels digging into the crook of his elbow.

Someone’s bag brushed against the unbuttoned sides of Yoongi’s jacket as they tried to maneuver around his stature planted in the middle of the walkway. He panicked, phone call halfway in progress as he fumbled the device and the flowers all to shove a hand into the depths of his pocket.

His panicked pats around balled gloves and a crinkled receipt stalled when your voice hushed from his phone dangling between the press of his knuckles on his index and middle fingers. It was coincidence that his thumb traced the outline of the object in question, still safe and tied in the thickest part of his glove as he instead traded his attention for jamming his phone against his ear.

You were rambling a mixture of his name and quiet are you okay’s and what are you doing’s when Yoongi’s rushed mumble cut you off.

“How do you feel about balloons?”

Your voice cut off entirely and you were silent as Yoongi shifted his weight, back and forth, until you were giggling quietly into the receiver.

“Look, mister anti-capitalist, you better not come home with the entire Valentine’s Day section of CVS for me.”

A fond smile fought at his lips directly as he made eye contact with a woman trying to enter the cafe. She smiled back nonetheless, eyebrow quirking slightly as he muttered an excuse me under his breath and sidestepped closer to the building.

“Glad to see you’re finally on my side…”

Yoongi bit the inside of his cheek. “...so no balloons?”

“No balloons.”

“Fine.”

He huffed, setting his sights on your apartment building in the distance once more, flowers and no balloons in tow. There was a dull ambiance on the line, mindless shuffling of whatever mundane actions you were completing around the house. It was a few chunks of sidewalk later when Yoongi was teasing softly, “Also, who said I was buying anything for you?”

You hummed, unaffected by Yoongi’s sudden words in your ear, taking his teasing in stride, “Years of experience.”

It was four years ago when he’d, wide eyed and with clammy palmed, fought a middle aged man with a loose tie and a sweaty neck for the last bouquet of flowers in the shop once filled with the very thing. He’d barely remembered it was Valentine’s Day, only truly remembering when Hoseok had leaned over his desk in their eleven o’clock marketing class and blatantly spoken through the professor’s lecture.

“So, what’d you get your lady?”

Yoongi had briefly thought he’d forgotten your birthday and then remembered no, I can’t have and then thought we’ve only been dating for five months, that’s a forgivable offense, right? No, it’s not idiot all in the span of three rapid blinks and the time it took for an outraged expression to fit Hoseok’s features.

“Why would I have—”

“It’s Valentine’s Day, dumbass.”

He barely flinched at Hoseok’s empty accusations and suddenly the box of chocolates and tipped vase of roses abandoned outside his neighbor’s door in his apartment complex made sense.

“So?,” Yoongi scribbled half a bullet point onto his notebook before the powerpoint shifted slides, “Capitalist holiday.”

Hoseok groaned so loud that their professor paused and glared. “Calm down, you can really buy her flowers or something. It won’t hurt your quest to burn the system to the ground.”

Your sweet smile when he’d brought you coffee to the library flashed behind his eyelids when he blinked and the tenderness of the kiss you’d pressed to his lips tingled on his mouth.  

“It’s still dumb…” He mumbled back.

“Yoongi. Buy her flowers.”

Maybe it was the stress of spending the entirety of the cash in his wallet or having the evade the angry chatter of a stressed businessman into his bluetooth headset for a bouquet four times the size of what he planned to buy but it happened nonetheless.

He told you he loved you that night, unintentionally and on the phone two seconds before he was going to knock on your apartment door after calling you to tell you he was coming to see you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ask the life sized bear I found you asleep on last weekend while you were supposed to be helping me remake the bed.”

It was three years ago when he’d dragged a brown bear nearly as tall as him out of the grocery store, downsizing the flower bouquet to a single white rose with a pretty red ribbon tied around it. He’d nearly crushed the petals underneath under the toe of his boot when he dropped the flower in the parking lot in an attempt to open the trunk of his car. He’d tossed the flower to the passenger seat instead before completing the remorseful task of smashing the bear’s smiling face into the desolate corner of his trunk.

Yoongi felt guilty the entire week, particularly when he pried the oversized plush toy from his car and had to stare at it’s frumpled muzzle and ears until it was safely squashed in your delighted arms. It was still slightly lopsided in your embrace and seemed to accuse him for it, stitched eyes following his track around your shoulder to envelop your waist.

“It hates me,” He told you a week later when you’d finally dragged it out of the living room to your bedroom, placing it in the tiny chair that occupied the far corner.

You passed his figure with your keys in hand, placing a hand on his forearms crossed tightly over his chest as he considered the giant stuffed animal with thinned eyes. He didn’t flinch, even when your lips touched his cheek.

“I would too if you shoved me in a trunk for a week.”

The tautness in Yoongi’s shoulders melted then, turning to you with wide, innocent eyes. His trilled whine followed your figure out into the hallway, lips pink and pouted and exaggerated.

“Angel! You’re not supposed to side with the bear!”

He’d decided it no longer hated him just a week ago, the bear having traveled from your apartment to your shared apartment where it had it’s own special spot. 

I refuse to stuff him in a closet and you frowned at Yoongi for even suggesting it.

You’d pelted a fresh out of the dryer blanket at him and ordered him to fold it while you redid the sheets on the mattress. The bear’s muzzle wasn’t quite as lopsided and it’s eyes seemed to invite him to lay down on it (even if it knew he was you taking an extra shift away from a stint in the closet), particularly with the warmth of the blanket you’d just provided him with wrapped around his shoulders.

The picture you snapped had spent intervals as your lock screen, no matter how many times Yoongi changed it while you were asleep on his chest.

“It doesn’t hate me anymore,” Yoongi defended miserably and he could feel the heat scratch at the back of his neck underneath his scarf.

“Don’t worry, my tooth has forgiven you, too.”

It was two years ago when he’d ditched flowers all together for something edible, a bouquet of fruit and chocolate paired with a bottle of wine jostling in his grasp as he took the stairs of your building two at a time. The grocery store had been as busy as he’d expected it to be and his irritation with high schoolers clutching their mom’s credit cards and frazzled nine to five fathers growing by the second.

He wanted to be more annoyed than he was but then realized remorsefully that he was apart of the cycle, no matter if he tried to justify the gift in his arms as a tasty snack for after dinner, something he had planned to buy you after the holiday on discount and just happened to be passing through, something he would have had sent to your office in July.

Yoongi was no different than the man tapping his foot loudly behind him in line, his bluetooth headset dangling off his right ear as he crumbled a cheap set of dying roses in a meaty hand and Yoongi nearly panicked that the man had came back to haunt him for stealing a much larger set of vegetation years prior.

But none of that mattered, not the money he forked into that gathered by products designed specifically for the worst day of the year and not the near forty-five minutes he spent under sickly white lights with melting fruit in his arms. None of it mattered when you draped your legs around his waist and plucked a piece of the chocolate in the pinch of your fingers to brush it over his mouth.

Half of your bottom lip was hidden in your teeth, eyes gleaming as they glazed over the treat touching his skin to the bemused, half lidded laze of his stare.

“Open up.”

You spent the entire evening feeding each other cubes of fruit and balls of chocolate in between languid kisses that tasted of the sweets on your tongue. You woke up the next morning with a satisfied tingle encompassing your entire being, only to leave a dentist appointment the week after with a similar numbness in the core of your molars on your bottom jaw.

“You did not get a cavity because of that,” Yoongi told you, pressing a gentle kiss to your swollen cheek while handing you your bowl of instant mashed potatoes.

“I did and it’s your fault,” You muffled back, tongue clinging to the last bit of numbness on that side of your mouth.

He just sighed, long fingers brushing yours aside to take the spoon and jab a mouthful of the creamy substance against the seam of your lips, “Alright, love. All my fault. No more chocolate. Now, c’mon. Eat.”

“Still wasn’t my fault.”

The noise you made was uninterested, “What about my earrings? I have those in today, by the way.”

It was a year ago when he’d forced Namjoon to a jewelry store in the mall, his tall friend full body panicking when Yoongi hesitated at the engagement rings.

“Yeah?” Namjoon said simply as if he hadn’t just stared at the back of Yoongi’s head like he’d grown a third hand from the nape of his neck.

Yoongi hummed from above the earrings, acknowledging the employee who flanked him from beyond the counter with a gentle smile. He glanced at Namjoon from the corner of his eye, chin shaking curtly.

“Not this year.”

You’d cried when he placed the tiny box in your lap, his thumbs preoccupied with trying to collect each droplet that rolled down the contour of your nose while you gaped openly at the tiny karat’s pinched through cardboard.

Through blubbered tears generated from the overwhelming love engulfing you from Yoongi’s entire being, you accused, “These, this, is against like everything I’ve ever heard you say about this dumb holiday.”

“Doesn’t count,” He told you, brushing your hair behind your ear to frame his lips over it, “I didn’t buy these today.”

You just laughed and met Yoongi’s gaze with watery eyes, gripping the jewelry tighter in your grasp as you leaned in for a chaste kiss.

“I would have taken another cavity, you know. Or another, hopefully smaller, bear friend. Or flowers…” You kissed him again, speaking against the smile that bobbled on his lips, “Or just you.”

His fingers framed yours, prying the earrings out of your grasp to begin plucking the jewelry from their carefully positioned placements.

“Want me to put them in for you, pretty girl?”

“Good, they were expensive.”

“There he is,” You murmured fondly, “The realistic boyfriend I know and love.”

“They were expensive but—” Yoongi paused, checking over his shoulder at the traffic before taking long strides through the crosswalk, petals of blue and yellow and pink and purple fanning out behind him from the breeze, “—you’re always worth it. I would have just given them to you for Christmas, anyway. Or your birthday. Or international donut day.”

He wasn’t lying. He’d given you a birthstone necklace on Christmas, a journal filled with poetic professions on your birthday, a delivery of two dozen roses to your office on a day that was probably national sausage and mushroom pizza day in some part of the world.

His heart squeezed at your heartfelt laughter directed unabashedly toward his terrible attempt at humor.

“Didn’t know we bought gifts for international donut day that weren’t donuts.”

“You know I love you, right?” His fingers twisted for his pocket again, phone balanced between his shoulder and ear as a diving index finger make contact with the buried object once more. His steps picked up when he located it, shifting everything back to a normal grasp in his juggling limbs.

Your laughter subsided with the background noise and he could picture you, hip against the kitchen counter, arm wrapped around your middle, abandoning the half washed dishes or the half cooked dinner or your half typed email for work the following day.

“Yes.”

Yoongi squinted at the tower of your building over his head, the structure appearing far too quickly for his liking, the very specific smell of the lobby puking all his worries back up from their tightly balled location in the pit of his stomach. His nerve endings felt like they were on fire, his throat dry, hands numb where he crushed the stems and, accidentally, the volume button on his phone.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He corrected, swallowing in time with the elevator clicking over from where he’d nudged the button with his hip. “I’m not sure you do because it’s so much that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to properly express it to you. I don’t even know how much I love you. I can’t count that high.”

You were giggling again, softer this time, “Well if you don’t know, how am I supposed to know?”

He couldn’t even be bothered by the bitter taste of one of the flowers that swiped across his mouth when he shifted them in his grasp, the unabashed stretch of his smile giddy and genuine and permanent. His heart swelled like the creation of a balloon and he was half convinced the hammering organ sounding off in uneven beats had grown to the same size as the balloon he’d nearly tied around his wrist for you like a child at their first carnival.

“This just gives me an excuse to spoil you, so you don’t hide my credit card again,” Yoongi didn’t register he’d stepped into the elevator until it was stopping on the second floor to pick up another resident. His legs were numb underneath him, knee caps twitching as he pressed his shoulder blades into the wall and hushed into the receiver, “I love you all the time, not just—”

“—February fucking fourteenth,” You finished, “Yeah, a wise man once told me that just a few years ago.”

The other occupant of the elevator, a man drenched in sweat and carrying a towel, cast him a sideways glance as he stepped out on the fourth floor, amusement on the cock of his eyebrows as he disappeared around the closing doors. Yoongi took that opportunity to reveal the smile he’d been trying to suppress, jamming his index finger into the button of your floor again.

“I love you.”

“Yeah, the wise man said that too,” You mused, “You’re the wise man.”

“I’ll remember you said that.”

“Hush, are you ever going to come home?”

Yoongi stepped off the elevator, numbly albeit, “Almost there—”

“—because I’m almost positive you’re blushing and I’m not with you to kiss it away. Or make it worse, depending on how you’re feeling.”

He acknowledged the heat encompassing his entire being as partial embarrassment rather than anticipation, noticing the cool press of the glass screen of his phone against his cheek with irritated realization.

“I am not,” He denied anyway.

“Seriously, are you on your way home? I want my not gift that you definitely didn’t buy me.”

Yoongi’s cheeks hurt by the time he was centered in front of your door, the crushing, assuring wheeze of his heart that repeatedly told him you’re in love, you’re in love, you’re stupidly in love! almost outweighing the fear that rested just at the forefront of his conscious.

“Yes, just a second...” He jammed the flowers underneath his arm, fishing properly for the small velvet box resting within his knit glove.

The weight of the ring seemed to match that seizing at the stuttered beats in his heart as he knelt to the carpet floor. His phone slipped, barely, as he sought out the flowers, balancing the spread carefully on the edge of his knee so that the palette of sunshine hues covered the cradle of his free palm and the threatening dam of adoration spilling out of every, gleaming inch of his smile.

“Actually, I forgot my key,” Yoongi couldn’t care less if the waver in his tone gave something away, more focused on not dropping the ring, choking on a leaf, puking, and passing out all in the same instance. “I’m outside. Can you come open the door for me?”

He gathered that you must have been in the threshold with the speed in which the door opened but even though he was consciously aware that it was seconds between his request and you completing it, it felt like it took you hours to find him crouched on the floor in front of your apartment door.

“For someone who hates this day, you sure pick out the prettiest flowers,” You were giggling. The softness of your fingertips brushed against his, coaxing his ironclad grip off the stems. “Why are you on the floor? Did you drop—”

He held the ring with both hands now, cradling it on the end of his knee, cheeks tinted the prettiest of pinks, eyes wide and curious in the way his eyebrows framed them.

Everything Yoongi had ever etched to the journal he’d gifted you for your birthday or mumbled against your temple in the earliest hours of the morning evaded him in that moment, the speech that had obsessively trained the roll of his tongue, all that he loved and adored about you blanking. Instead, he laughed, tentative and easy.

“Hi, angel, how was your day?” Yoongi’s phone fell to the floor as he tilted his head the opposite direction, the shyest expanse of his teeth peeking out from his lips, “Oh, yeah, and will you, uh,  marry me? 

The flowers, already ruined from the flexing crush of his hands and arms and entire nervous being, were cast aside in favor of you dropping to his level, bringing your hands to cup his jaw.

“You’re serious?” Your forehead pressed against his, wet tears already streaking your cheeks, “You’re asking today?”

“Just another day to love you,” Yoongi croaked, the nerves invading his vocal cords now too.

“This is really against everything I’ve ever heard you say about this holiday.”

“Doesn’t count,” He reiterated, argued, one hand leaving the ring to wrap around your hip, “I didn’t buy it today. Nor did I get the idea to ask today.”

You kissed him to silence any further excuses for him indulging fully in the day of pastel pink hearts and the ultimate consumer mindset, sliding your hands around his shoulders as you fit between the part of his singular, bent knee.

He tapped your side with the box in hand, “So, is that a yes?”

“Depends,” You grinned, “Who are the flowers for?”

Yoongi whined. He whined, pursed lips and eyes that wandered over your head and curt but flailing movements of his head and shoulders and hands, voice trilling upward an octave on the end of the last set of syllables.

“Do you want to marry me or not?”

“Is something wrong?”

You hadn’t heard your neighbor open her door until she was standing in the hallway, confusion tangled somewhere in amusement at the sight before her.

The jewelry missed your ring finger, flopping onto your middle finger instead as Yoongi pocketed the tiny box and hauled you up with him by two arms curled around your waist. He pressed his cheek against your forehead, subtly nudging at your feet to move you into the apartment.

“Everything is great,” He told her, dimples pressing into his cheeks, “Sorry for the trouble.”

She disappeared like Yoongi’s flushed features did into the crook of your neck, lips pressing repeatedly into the same spot on the juncture of your shoulder as he moved you backward and shut the door softly behind your figures.  

“Yes, Yoongi,” You murmured, “I want nothing more than to marry you.”

[winchesterandpie]

Part of the Company Part 5 (Thorin x reader)

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader

Word count: 3332

Warnings: None

A/N: A million billion thanks to the amazing @jezzula for helping me edit (seriously, you’re the best, ily)! We’re still on a bit of a slow burn here, but you’ll have to see how much longer that lasts... *evil cackling* Gif is not mine! Translations are from https://islenthatur.wordpress.com/welcome/ 

Enjoy!! I love you all!!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

I did not like this bag. It was itchy, it was restrictive, it was currently impeding me from going on a murderous rage, and just an overall 1/10 experience, to say nothing of our impending fate of being eaten. I wouldn’t recommend it. To be fair, I wasn’t on the spit yet, but being under a pile of dwarves wasn’t much better.

“Don’t bother cooking them. Let’s just sit on them and squash them into jelly.” Now, that sounded like a thoroughly unpleasant prospect.

“They should be sautéed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage.” At least with that idea my death wouldn’t be wholly unstylish. Points for artistic creativity to that troll.

“Ooh, that does sound quite nice.” The dwarves were grumbling and complaining about the situation, but I had tuned them out in the hopes of hearing something useful.

“Never mind the seasoning; we ain’t got all night!” Oh? This could be interesting. “Dawn ain’t far away, so let’s get a move on. I don’t fancy being turned to stone.” Definitely interesting. Now I just had to get out from under a pile of dwarves and stall the trolls. As it just so happened, Bilbo had the same idea as I did, and he was on top of the pile.

“Wait! You’re making a terrible mistake!” Bilbo called.

“You can’t reason with them, they’re half-wits!”

“Half-wits? What does that make us?” Somehow, after more than a century with dwarves, it never failed to surprise me how thick-skulled dwarves could be. Bilbo hopped up in his sack, turning to the trolls.

“Uh, I meant with the, uh, with, uh, with the seasoning.” There we go - stalling tactics.

“What about the seasoning?” The trolls’ interest was piqued, especially the one only one who seemed to have any sort of taste buds.

“Well have you smelled them? You’re going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up.” He definitely wasn’t wrong, and I chuckled at the thought. The dwarves, on the other hand, didn’t find it quite as funny.

“What do you know about cooking dwarf?”

“Shut up and let the, uh, flurgaburburrahobbit talk.”

“Uh, the.. the secret to cooking dwarf is, um--” Uh oh. He was freezing up under the scrutiny. Admittedly, for one unaccustomed to such demands, he was doing a decent job. But a decent job could still get us all killed.

“Yes? Come on.”

“It’s, uh”

“Tell us the secret.” The trolls were impatient, and we were running out of time.

“Ye-yes, I’m telling you, the secret is…” Come on, Bilbo, you can do it! “... to skin them first!” Apparently not. That was definitely not the life-saving stalling tactic I’d been hoping for.

“Tom, get me the filleting knife,” the troll said, holding out a hand, as the dwarves breathed out threatenings in Bilbo’s direction. I was too shocked to say anything immediately, and by the time I could more action was unfolding. I probably would have laughed at how nervous he was… if I wasn’t so directly involved in the situation.

“What a load of rubbish! I’ve eaten plenty with their skins on. Scuff them, I say, boots and all.”

“He’s right! Nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf!” One of the monsters grabbed Bombur’s sack, lifting it towards his mouth. “Nice and crunchy.”

“Not-- not that one, he--he’s infected!” This idea actually had some potential.

“You what?”

“Yeah, he’s got worms in his… tubes.” That seemed to do the trick - the troll tossed Bombur back onto the pile, and I could practically see the light bulb go off in Bilbo’s head. Unfortunately, this meant that the already limited oxygen in my lungs got forced out abruptly, leaving me gasping for breath for a moment. Breathing hurt, but I couldn’t tell if something was wrong or if it was just the result of the weight piled on top of me.

“In-in fact they all have. They’re infested with parasites. It’s a terrible business - I wouldn’t risk it. I really wouldn’t,” Bilbo said, gaining confidence as he went on.

“Parasites? Did he say parasites?”

“We don’t have parasites! You have parasites!”

“What are you talking about, laddie?”

The dwarves were quite vocal about how much they absolutely did not have parasites. In any other situation it would have been laughing, but here it could prove fatal.

“He’s right!” I shouted over the grumpy dwarves, forcing myself not to gasp at the pain in my chest. “They’ve got a massive infestation. I’ve been traveling with them for a year now - I should know!”

“And you don’t?” The troll raised an eyebrow

“I’m a girl! It’s a well known fact that girls don’t get parasites!”

Thorin seemed to get the message and shot me a look before kicking the others in the pile.

That seemed to jolt them into an understanding, which thankfully diverted the trolls’ attention from the fact that it would indeed make me edible, which I had realized too late.

“I’ve got parasites as big as my arm!”

Mine are the biggest parasites! I’ve got huge parasites!” Ever the competitive one, Kili’s parasites just had to be the biggest. There was no way I was going to let him forget it.

“We’re riddled!”

“Yes, I’m riddled!”

“Yes, we are! Badly!” I was never going to let any of them live this exact moment down.

“What would you have us do, then? Let ‘em all go?” This troll came to stand before Bilbo, and his tone indicated that he was catching on. That couldn’t be a good sign.

“Well…”

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to?” The troll emphasized his point by poking the poor hobbit. “This little ferret is taking us for fools!”

“Ferret?”

“Fools?” Both hobbit and troll sounded indignant at the other troll’s insult. All of a sudden, Gandalf stepped out onto a large rock and relief flooded through my system.

“The dawn will take you all!” The whole company seemed to take a breath in relief at the wizard’s appearance.

“Who’s that?” one of the trolls asked.

“No idea.”

“Can we eat ‘im too?”

In an instant that seemed to freeze in time, Gandalf lifted up the staff before slamming it down onto the ground, causing the rock to split in two. Light flooded the clearing and the trolls tried to shield their eyes as slowly their skin seemed to turn to drying clay. With a final growl, they hardened in place, frozen forever as stone statues.

Cheers went up from the grinning dwarves and I laughed giddily. Even Thorin cracked a smile. We were safe now.

“Oh, get your foot out of my back!” Dwalin grumbled loudly.

Bilbo and Gandalf got the first of the dwarves’ scratchy burlap prisons untied, and the dwarves moved to help the others. Once the pile was cleared from off the top of me, Kili bent to cut open the sack while Fili did the same for his uncle.  Several set to getting the dwarves off the spit after putting out the fire from below them.

“Are you alright?” Thorin was at my side as soon as we were both free, scanning me for injuries as he poked and prodded my abdomen. I wasn’t about to tell him I had messed up my ribs - he was too concerned for me already

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” I insisted, but when he hit one of my ribs, I couldn’t keep from flinching. “Ahhhh. I think I might have bruised a rib or two when Bombur landed on us.”

“Oin!” he called out, worry coloring his tone.

“Thorin, I’ll be fine,” I tried to reassure him. “Really, there’s nothing he can do for a bruised rib.”

“What is it you need, laddie?” Oin approached.

“It’s Y/N’s ribs - she thinks she bruised them when the troll dropped Bombur back onto the pile.” Thorin’s hand was still on my arm, warm and steady.

“I’m sorry to say it, but there’s naught to be done for a rib injury, Thorin.” Oin gestured helplessly. “I can get ya something for the pain when we get a camp set up, lassie.” With another shrug, he turned back to where the other dwarves were.

“Told you so,” I said, breathing as shallowly as possible as I wrapped an arm protectively around myself. “Seriously though, I’ll be alright. It’s nothing a little time won’t fix. Though I think a few more days off firewood collecting duty wouldn’t go amiss.” Thorin chuckled, and I laughed a little before flinching at the pain it caused. This was definitely not going to be a comfortable few days on the road.

“I think we can find a way to ensure that.” His hand still rested on my arm, and the other came up to brush a piece of hair away from my face. He was so close, and I wished desperately that he would just lean a little closer… Whoa, kiddo… Hold your horses, there. I knew full well nothing would ever come of my feelings for Thorin, especially since I wasn’t even from Middle Earth. Gandalf thumping one of the trolls’ foreheads with a satisfied look on his face brought us abruptly out of… whatever that was. “I must speak to Gandalf. Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“I’ll be fine, worrywart.” I sent him off with a wave and a reassuring smile. He nodded once and turned to Gandalf. Once his concerned gaze left me, I sank down onto a convenient log, holding my ribs in a vain attempt to keep them from moving.

“Y/N? What happened?” A concerned Fili quickly made an appearance at my side, with Kili not far behind him. I tried to wave them off, not keen to have more people worrying and fussing over me. A grumpy, overprotective, sweet king was more than enough. By the valar, I’m hopeless, I thought, rolling my eyes at my mental description of Thorin.

“It’s nothing time won’t heal. I’m fine. Go worry about Bilbo.”

“Are you sure?” Kili’s wide-eyed puppy dog look would’ve had anyone else melting.

“Yes!” I snapped. It wouldn’t work on me today. They held up their hands in meek surrender, backing off to go find the hobbit. I’d have to apologize later.

“You lot, on your feet. We’re going looking for the troll’s cave.” There was grumbling at the order, there always was when the company had to get up, but they rose nonetheless.

“Up you get.” Thorin extended a hand to me when he was within reach, his voice gentler than it had been a moment ago.

“Do I have to?” I tried Kili’s tactic of puppy-dog eyes, not wanting to move just yet.

“We have to keep moving, my azaghâl (warrior).” Apparently I wasn’t as adept at it as Kili was. “I wish I could give you more than that.”

“Fine,” I sighed dramatically. “Help me up, then.” With a mischievous grin, he lifted me carefully in his arms and started walking back toward our horses.

“Put me down, you ridiculous dwarf!” I smacked him playfully on the shoulder. “My legs are still perfectly functional.”

“You didn’t really think I’d be so cruel as to make you walk all the way to your horse after making you get up, did you?”

“I know better than to expect anything from the Heir of Durin. Anything but trouble, that is,” I teased affectionately, feeling the rumble of his laughter in his chest.

“If you hadn’t gone and injured yourself, I’d be seriously considering dropping you right now.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“I suppose I’ll let you off with a warning this time. After all, what would Dis say?” He set me down next to Obsidian just long enough to pick me up by my waist and lift me onto the horse’s back. “Can you manage to stay on him on your own?”

“I’ll be fine, Thorin,” I reassured him. “Let’s just find that troll cave so I can sleep.” With a nod, he turned to lead company, the rest of which had remained on foot.

I just can’t leave you alone for ten minutes, can I? Obsidian’s gaze seemed to ask me as the dark-haired dwarf looked over his shoulder at my repeatedly. He’s worried about you.

“Hush, Dian. He worries about everyone in the company.”

Not like how he worries about you.

“Oh please, he’s a king. Thorin could never think of a commoner like that, let alone me.”

Obsidian flicked his ears in disagreement, but dropped the subject.

It wasn’t long before the cave was found. Reeking like nothing else I’d ever smelled certainly helped lead us to it.

“‘Stay out here.’ ‘Don’t get off the horse.’” I mimicked, complete with obnoxious expressions. “Ugh. Dwarves.”

You’re the one who likes him. Obsidian rattled his mane at me.

“Oh, be quiet. It doesn’t matter anyways.”

I would have much rather been exploring the troll hoard than stuck outside doing nothing as Thorin had insisted. On the other hand, I was grateful for the fresh air. Even from out here, I could smell a little of what the inside must’ve smelled like, and it wasn’t pleasant.

“We’re makin’ a long term deposit,” Gloin explained himself to Dwalin, who was making a face at their digging.

“Let’s get out of this foul place. Come on, let’s go!” Thorin’s commanding voice rang out, but the dwarves kept burying their treasure. “ Bofur! Gloin! Nori!” Reluctantly, they stood, kicking a last spray of dirt before they obeyed Thorin.

The king himself came towards me, a new sword and bow in hand.

“Find anything interesting?”

“An elvish sword and an elvish bow caught my eye. I wondered if you might like to have the bow?” He extended the bow to me to examine. I took it, awed by the fine workmanship.

“Thorin, this is incredible! Thank you.” I reached out a hand to rest on his shoulder in gratitude. He smiled at my enthusiasm, lifting his hand to cover mine. I would’ve hugged him if he wouldn’t have had a fit the moment I tried to get off the horse.

“I’m glad you like it.” His fingers intertwined with mine. “I hope it serves you well.” A sudden commotion of wildlife in the trees had us tensing up.

“Thorin? What do you think that is?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, dropping my hand to draw his sword before alerting the company. “Something’s coming!”

“Gandalf!”

“Stay together! Hurry now! Arm yourselves,” Gandalf rallied the dwarves, jogging together into the trees. I laid an arrow on my new bowstring, ready for whatever would come.

A sled drawn by rabbits came crashing through the trees toward us. The scruffy, brown-clad figure pulled them to a stop by us.

“Thieves! Fire! Murder!” He shouted. That was never something reassuring to hear from someone you didn’t know.

“Radagast! Radagast the Brown!” Gandalf warmly greeted the new person. Since Gandalf relaxed, the rest of us relaxed too, content to trust Gandalf. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.”

“Yes?” That didn’t sound like good news at all.

Radagast opened his mouth, making as if to speak, only he didn’t. His mouth closed again, before repeating several times, as though he’d forgotten what he was about to say.

“Oh, just give me a minute. Um… Oh, I had a thought, and now I’ve lost it. It was… it was right there - on the tip of my tongue!” He curled his tongue, making an odd face as Gandalf’s brows drew together. “Oh, it’s not a thought at all - it’s a silly old…” He paused briefly as the grey wizard pulled a bug out of his mouth. “Stick insect!” Radagast finished.

That was definitely not the “impressive wizard” image that Gandalf seemed to carefully cultivate, and I could tell that the dwarves were more than confused by it. I think Gandalf could tell, for he led Radagast a little ways away so that they could discuss their “wizard business” in private.

“Am I allowed down now?”

“I’ve a feeling something is coming. I would feel better if you stayed up there for now.”

“Thorin, you realize that I can defend myself, right?” I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Of course you can, I taught you myself.”

“Then why don’t you trust me to do it?” I’m sure my eyes betrayed something of what I felt, and his eyes softened immediately.

“I do, Y/N. I do trust you.” He set one of his hands on my knee, as if urging me to understand something. “I just… I can’t risk losing you.”

“You won’t lose me, Melhekhul! (my king) I simply wish to be more helpful than I can be here.”

“Normally, I would agree with you, but you’re injured right now, and I have a bad feeling that something is on its way. Something dangerous.” This memory of the movie was coming back to me, and he was right - wargs were coming.

“I suppose you have a point.” I dropped my eyes from his gaze. After all, he was right, and it was obvious that he was being careful because he cared and not to try to annoy me.

A howl split the air, a little ways in the distance, making my hair stand on end. Obsidian’s ears flicked back and forth as he pranced around uneasily.

“Was that a wolf? Are there -- are there wolves out there?” Bilbo looked up suddenly, clearly on edge.

“Wolves? No, that is not a wolf.” Bofur answered him

“Thorin, look out!” I shouted when I saw a warg appear above us. It leapt down, but Thorin quickly struck it with Orcrist, killing it instantly. While his sword was still stuck in the warg’s corpse, another one showed its ugly head on the other side. Kili got off a shot at it, and it fell close to Thorin, but it wasn’t dead yet. I took a shot at it, my arrow piercing directly through its eye and into its brain at the same moment that Dwalin hit it hard with an axe.

“Warg-Scouts! Which means an Orc pack is not far behind.” Thorin said urgently as he freed his sword.

“Orc pack?”

“Don’t worry, Bilbo, we’ll protect you,” I assured him, hoping to be able to make good on that.

“Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?”

“No one,” Thorin answered the wizard’s query.

“Who did you tell?” I could see where Gandalf’s urgency came from - somebody was after us, and somehow they had to have learned of our quest.

“No one, I swear,” Thorin insisted. “What in Durin’s name is going on?”

“You’re being hunted.” At those words, Thorin moved closer to me, as though attempting to stand between me and the danger we could not see.

“We have to get out of here.”

“We can’t! We have no ponies; they bolted.” If I were a horse, I definitely would’ve bolted as well. I was lucky that Obsidian hadn’t, though the pony was a brave one. His muscles were taut, his ears pinned flat, but he hadn’t run.

“I’ll draw them off,” Radagast offered.

“These are Gundabad Wargs, they will outrun you,” Gandalf pointed it out as though it were obvious.

“These are Rhosgobel Rabbits. I’d like to see them try.” The Brown Wizard smirked, taking it for a challenge.

“I’ll help draw them off.” I nudged Obsidian forward a couple of steps.

“No, I forbid it.”

“Thorin, I could be helpful. If you insist that I stay on Obsidian, then at least let me help.”

“Did you not hear Gandalf? These are Gundabad Wargs.”

“So what? Not even a Gundabad Warg can outrun a pony. And I’ve got a bow and plenty of arrows.” He was hesitating - my logic was wearing down his opposition, if only because the number of options was limited.

“Alright. But don’t take unnecessary risks, do you understand me?”

“Thorin, I’ll be fine. Now let’s go before they find us.”

Muahahaha... Gotta love cliffhangers, right? Hope you enjoyed!

Part Six 

Forever tags

@riddikulus-obsessions @addictionmarvel @peppermint--teas @mercedesbarnes @javapeach 

Part of the Company tags

@tschrist1  @captainrainbowpanda @yes-captainstark

Shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged! If y’all took a moment to like, reblog, or comment if you enjoyed, I would seriously appreciate it!

[branching-paths]

Of Spittle, Spit, Hats and Birds

   After Fili and Kili nearly drowned, Thorin and I kinda made up. He never said an apology, but I honestly forgot about him falling off Lakita. When I woke up the next day, the river had shrunk back down so we could get to the bridge. We crossed it, and continued to ride. Fili and Kili gave me an apology for rescuing them from the river, but who wouldn't of rescued them?! I was the one who rescued them because I was the first there. Not much else happened the rest of the day.... I mean, yeah Bilbo sniffed a bunch of daisies growing on the hill next to him and went into a fit of sneezing, but it's a hobbit sneezing. Now if it had been Dwalin, or Gandalf sneezing, that would of been funny.

     We stopped for the night in an old farm house that had fallen down many years ago. The only things left were the beams, corners and stone fireplace. Thorin turned around on his pony.     "We'll stop here for the night," He announced. We all rode past him and dismounted. I helped Bombur pull out the cooking things and set it up under what was left of the stable's roof. Gandalf came storming out of the house.     "Gandalf, is everything alright," Bilbo asked. Gandalf stormed right past, didn't even glance at the hobbit.     "I'm going to talk with the only sensible being around," He shouted. Bilbo looked up from the pony he was taking the bridal out of.     "Who's that," He asked. Gandalf frowned further as he stormed to his horse.     "Myself, Master Baggins," He growled. He mounted and rode out of sight. I turned to Thorin, who was standing in front  of the fireplace, looking smug. Sure, it doesn't take much to make a lady mad at you, but angering a wizard?! That takes talent, and apparently my partner had that special talent. Wonderful.... I rolled my eyes and got out the deer that Lakita had been so kind to catch last night. She looked so funny dragging the deer between her legs, and she dropped it at Dwalin's feet, almost seeming to ask for him to say something negative. He had just looked between her and the deer, then called Bofur over and they dressed the deer. Lots of little packages were shoved into the food bags, all full of deer meat. I pulled out some and dumped it on Bombur's lap. Still in the packing, mind you! Fili and Kili went to watch the ponies, the last night of their punishment from making Thorin's water into tea. Yeah, I know.... He really likes his water. I sat on an upturned stone and watched the company. Ori was writing in his notebook again, like he normally was, Dori peeking over his shoulder every now and then. When he wasn't looking at Ori's work, he was talking with Gloin, who was counting his money from a recent bet he won. Nori was practicing his knife throwing, aiming at a tree not to far from the ruined house. He was missing nine times out of ten, but pumped his fist in the air when he embedded his knife in the bark. Bofur was helping Bombur cook, while Bifur was talking with the bushes, which probably held some sort of animal. He had this way with them, it was almost like he could talk to and understand them. Oin was sorting what he had left of his herb stash, not listening to anything, probably unable to hear anything. Balin was talking with Dwalin about something, but I don't think Dwalin was listening much. He would nod every now and then, but his eyes were shut, his head resting on his hand which was propped up on his knee. Then there was Thorin, but he was over brooding in the corner. The night would end up like it normally was. Me talking with Fili and Kili, Bilbo possibly joining our conversation, but the boys were watching the ponies until night fell. It wouldn't be long now, but I hated not doing anything. I sighed, stood up and pulled out a coin sack from my boot.     "Ten gold to anyone who can beat me," I shouted into the air. Everything stopped, only Bombur's boiling water made sound. I threw the sack of coins onto the ground in front of me, willing and wishing someone would pick it up.     "In what," Ori asked, eyeing the sack with interest.     "Anything," I said. "Riddles, sword, words, you name it!" Dwalin eyed the sack with more interest now, then stalked over and picked it up.     "Ax throwing," He said, tossing the bag to Ori, who was the official bet keeper. He grabbed one ax off his back and handed it to me, the other he shifted into his left hand. I grabbed the ax, and just about dropped it on the ground. Dwalin snorted. "Easy win," He mumbled. I hefted the ax over my shoulder, getting accustomed to it's weight. It wasn't too bad now that I thought about it. Eh, who was I kidding, this thing was heavy, and I would probably break something trying to throw it anywhere. But stubborn pride got in the way, reminding me that I had a secret way, yet another thing that the elves taught me. I frowned, I wouldn't do it, only if Dwalin would beat me, and knowing him he would. We lined up and Dwalin took a step forward. He took a deep breath, shifted his hand to the end of the shaft and bounced it a little. With a roar like a bear, Dwalin hurtled the ax, sending it flying up into the air. It returned to earth about forty paces away. Dwalin stood up again and looked at me, smirking.     "Beat that, half-ling," He said as he past. I glared at him and focused. That involved shutting my eyes, and blocking out everything. A warm feeling spread through my body, giving me strength. I hefted the ax again and flung it, knocking me on my rear as I let go. Dwalin and Bofur burst out laughing, I promptly glared at them, but with a good heart.     "Myrin wins," Gloin shouted, peering into the distance where the two weapons were embedded in the dirt.     "WHAT," Dwalin and I shouted. Yeah, I didn't really think that elf magic would work that much. Apparently it did. I stood up and looked. The ax I had thrown was a good five feet farther then Dwalin's.     "Huh," I mumbled. Dwalin snorted as he stalked off to get his weapons.     "Food's ready," Bombur shouted from the house. I arrived first, bowl in hand and plumes of dust billowing behind me. Bombur grabbed my bowl and dumped the stew into it. I nodded my thanks and sat back down on my boulder. Everyone was dished, and finished when we remembered Fili and Kili. Bofur grabbed the ladle and scooped out two bowls.     "Here, Bilbo, take these to the lads- Get yer hand outta there! You've had plenty," Bofur shouted, whacking Bombur's hand with the ladle in one hand, giving the hobbit the two bowls with the other. Bilbo ran off, two bowls of stew threatening to splash over and stain his coat, yet he managed to keep the stew in the bowls, keep it off his coat, and still run.     "How did you do that," Dwalin asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. Dwalin was looking right at me, almost glaring.     "What do you mean," I asked. Dwalin glared and threw his hand out.     "That, how did you beat me," He growled. "You could barely lift it, then you threw it farther then me! How did you do it?!" I shrugged. I wouldn't give my secret up that easily. ��   "Maybe I don't know my own strength," I bluffed. Dwalin looked at me through narrowed eyes.     "Maybe," He growled quietly. The next few minuets, I tried to avoid Dwalin's gaze, but it wouldn't move from me. I stood up and went outside of the house, his gaze still following me. I walked out of his sight, half expecting him to follow me. He didn't. I leaned against the last wall of the house and watched the stars, that were slowly appearing.     "HELP," Fili called from where he and Kili had lead the ponies. He burst through the wall of lichen, eyes wild and full of fear. Thorin ran up to him, grabbing his shoulders.     "What," I shouted, running towards him.     "Trolls have taken the ponies, the hobbit and Kili thought he could rescue them," Fili shouted, out of breath. Everyone followed Fili into the forest, we stopped just beyond the firelight, watching the confrontation. There were three trolls, all on the other side. The one in the middle was holding Bilbo in what looked like a snot rag. Kili was pacing, trying to look fierce.     "I said drop him," Kili shouted. Oh, crap...Kili if the trolls don't kill you, I will.     "You heard 'im," A troll shouted, giving me chills. I heard Bilbo shout as the middle troll threw the slime covered hobbit at Kili. We burst out of the forest as Kili and Bilbo collapsed, startling the trolls. The one that threw Bilbo stepped around the fire, almost onto me. I shoved my sword into his foot, making him scream. Another one hollered loudly as he fell to the ground. I kicked embers into another's face, I think it was the same one I stabbed. It kicked me, sending me over the fire and over the head of the one that was approaching Bilbo, who just loosed the ponies from the corral. I landed on the boulder and rolled over the top, hitting an old deer trail that went behind it. I could peer over the boulder if I wanted too, but it hurt everywhere, so I just didn't move.     "Bilbo," I heard Kili shout.     "Drop yer arms, or we'll rip 'is off," A troll shouted. I heard metal, then growling. "Tom, move their arms away-" More metal sounds. "-Get the sacks." That didn't sound good. Someone started to protest, and Bilbo yelped.     "Don't you move," A different one shouted. "Tom get me a sack, NOW." Bilbo shouted.     "Don't shove me in that nasty-AHHHH!"     "We'll do what we want, burrahobbit! If ya whant ta keep yer arms, then don't complain!" More quiet grumbling, but nothing more then an, "Ouch," or a growl. When everything stopped hurting, I pulled myself over the boulder and peered at the company, all snug in their sacks and on a rotisserie spit over the fire. Thorin Fili and Kili had yet to be tied to the spit, so that settled my pounding heart. Where was that blasted wizard when you needed him?! I crept down the path, back to the clearing with the trolls. They smelt worse then I had ever thought, and looked horrible. They were arguing about how to cook them, and apparently the most popular was sitting on them and squashing them to jelly. I didn't favor that option. The smallest of the trolls, I think another called him Tom, was the same one that had Bilbo in his hand.     "Stop cooking," I shouted, lowering my voice to the highest of the tenor range. The one that was rotating the spit slowed down, looking around.     "Who's that talkin'," The third shouted. Crap.... I hadn't thought of that...     "I'm aaaaaa WIZARD," I shouted. Mental note, thank Gandalf when this is over. I scrabbled in my satchel, why I had brought it with me I couldn't remember, but I was glad I did. I found it, the last firework, and I really hoped this batched up plan would work...     "A wizard," The third yelled again. "Wha's tha'?"     "Can we eat it," Tom asked, inching closer to me. I backed up and took out my flint.     "No, you cannot eat a wizard," I yelled. "They give you indigestion." I heard Oin snicker.     "We can handle a little bit'o gas," The one at the fire snarled. Hum, an intelligent troll, fancy that... Suddenly I was plucked from the ground by my feet. The third had found me, and was dangling me in front of his face.     "Wha's tha Bert," Tom screeched, jumping to his feet.     "I think it's a wizard," Bert yelled back, covering me with spit. I wiped it from my face, trying not to scream. Fun Fact, my worst fear were Trolls. He shook me, and I clammed up, terror making me freeze. My hand was still holding the firework in my satchel. "Yer gonna answer er not!"     "I-I am the wizard," I stuttered. Bert snarled and brought me up to his face.     "Prove it," He growled. I pulled out the firework, finding my hands shaking terribly. Holding the end of the firework in my mouth, I know stupid, I struck the flint, lighting the wick. I dropped the flint, took the firework out of my mouth, and threw it up into the air. It exploded with a loud bang, scaring Tom.     "It's a wizard, IT'S A WIZARD," Tom howled. "Let it go before it does that again!" Bert snarled at Tom, and he quieted.     "It was just a firework, like the ones in that caravan from last year," The one at the fire growled. He started to spin the spit again. "Shove it in a sack, we might use it for a tooth pick!" Bert, with his other hand, grabbed a sack and shoved me feet first into it. Then he threw me on top of Bombur.     "Oh, right," Tom said, smiling brightly. His stomach roared, and he looked hungrily at Bombur.     "Wha do you feel about sage," The one at the fire said, poking the dwarves on the spit.     "Wait, you are making a terrible mistake," Bilbo shouted. Dori looked up from staring at the fire from his spot on the spit.     "Don't reason with them, you can't," He shouted. "They're half-wits!" Bofur frowned and looked down past his feet at Dori.     "What does that make us," He shouted.     "Wha'tch ya mean about mistake," The one at the fire said, leaning closer to Bilbo.     "I mean, have you smelt them," Bilbo asked, leaning over to keep his balance. "It's going to take a lot more the sage to keep that off your tongue! I know the best way to cook dwarf too!" Bert frowned, looking at Bilbo with disgust.     "What a load of rubbish," He shouted. "Don't listen to 'im Bill-"     "Shut up and let the fluggaburrahobbit speak," Bill shouted. He leaned in closer to Bilbo, who shrunk back in disgust. Bill didn't notice. "Now what do you suppose the best way to cook a dwarf is?" Bilbo looked around.     "The best way issss toooooo-"     "Get to the point," Bert shouted.     "Yes, yes I'm getting to the point," Bilbo assured. "The best way is to......skin them first!" The company protested, all of them wiggling in their sacks, and against their bindings on the spit, shouting at the poor hobbit that was trying to save their skins. I think I was the only one who didn't, but I was still paralyzed with terror.     "Tom, get me filletin' knife," Bill shouted. Bert glared at Bilbo again.     "Rubbish," Bert yelled. "I've had plenty WiFi their skins on, boots and all!" I flinched. Tom stood up from the fire where he was warming his face.     "He's right," He said slyly. "Let's eat them whole, nice and crunchy!" Bombur, who he had picked up was rocking back and forth, trying to get out of his grasp.     "Wait, don't eat that one, he's infected," Bilbo shouted. Bombur and Tome looked at Bilbo, confusion written all over their faces. "He's got worm in his........tubes." Tom shrieked and flung Bombur on top of the company again. Bilbo's face lite up. "In-fact, they've all got parasites, I wouldn't risk it," Bilbo shouted, shaking his head.     "Parasites," Oin asked. "Is that what he said?"     "I don't have parasites," Kili shouted. Everyone started to shout at Bilbo, screaming about their lack of parasites. Thorin kicked Kili, jerked his head a little, and everyone quieted.     "I've got parasites as big as my arm," Oin mumbled loudly. Then everyone started to shout something along those lines. Bert stood up and poked Bilbo in the chest.     "Wha' do you suppose we do WiFi 'em then, let 'em all go," Bert snarled at the hobbit.     "Well......." Bilbo bounced his head back and forth as he pretended to weigh the options.     "You think I don't know what yer doin'," Bert snarled again, poking Bilbo a little harder. "This little ferret, he's taking us for fools!" Bert returned to the fire and started to spin the spit again. Bilbo looked at him.     "Ferret?!"     "The dawn will take you all," Gandalf shouted from atop the same boulder I had rolled over. Finally, just when you needed him! Will he ever show up on time! The trolls looked at Gandalf.     "Who's that," Bert asked.     "No idea," Bill mumbled.     "Can we eat him, too," Tom asked. Gandalf brought his staff down on the boulder and it split in two, letting sunshine flood into the clearing. The trolls howled as the sun touched their skin, and turned to stone before us. The claw that was clutching my chest released and I took a deep breath. Cheering erupted from the company, both the relieved laughter that came from realizing you wouldn't die, and the cheering for the wizard.

Kili's POV

    After we got out of our sacks, and got our things back, we went and visited the trolls' hoard. Thorin, Gloin, Bofur, Gandalf and Nori went in, leaving the rest of us to keep an eye out. Myrin stayed clear of the troll's stench, but she still looked a little queasy.     "You okay," I asked when I approached. She jumped and looked at me.     "Yeah," She mumbled, turning her gaze back to a line of bushes. I looked that way too, but didn't see much of interest. Just some scraps of lumber from a few hundred years ago, seeing as they were covered in weeds, and those blackened stalks were covered with more. Myrin stood up and walked into the bushes, towards the lumber. I shrugged and joined Fili at the mouth of the hoard.     "Anything down there that you can see," I asked. Fili shook his Head, reminding me of Lakita when she landed this morning from hunting. Her head turned gold, and when she shook it to get the dew off, it turned back to brown. Only Fili's stayed gold. I snicked, Fili glanced at me.     "What," He asked.     "Just wondering what would of happened if we had Lakita last night," I snickered. Fili smirked.     "That would of been quite different," Bilbo said, startling us both.     "You're getting sneakier," I sneered jokingly. "You just might steal Thorin's boots off his feet!" Bilbo rolled his eyes.     "I'll never get that good.... When do you think they'll come out," He asked, pointing to the hoard.     "Let's get out of this stench," Thorin called from bellow. The dwarves came out first. Thorin was trying not to grin like an idiot, for some strange reason. He looked normal, but if you looked closely, you could see his cheeks twitching, trying to smile. He looked around and frowned at Fili and I.     "Where's Myrin," He asked quietly.     "Right here," She said behind us, startling me again. Was everyone going to scare me today?! She looked ashen, but normal, if that makes any sense. Before anything else could be said or done, something cracked in the undergrowth, silencing all thoughts and actions.     "Something's coming," Thorin shouted, drawing his new sword, which looked pretty good on him. I drew my own sword as Gandalf came out of the hoard.     "Draw your weapons, prepare for battle," Gandalf shouted, drawing his own sword. I drew my sword and waited, until this funny looking man with a rabbit drawn sled came bursting out of the undergrowth. Well, I feel stupid! This man doesn't even look like he could hold his own with the rabbits that draw his sled. Gandalf sheathed his sword and took a step forward, smiling.     "Radagast," He shouted, turning the funny man's head towards him. He smiled, something I'm all too willing to forget.     "Gandalf," He shouted. He got off his sled thing and stood in front of Gandalf. He opened his mouth, frowned and rubbed his fingers together. "Oh, I had something to tell you Gandalf," Radagast shouted, silently snapping his fingers. "It was very important, and right on the tip of my tongue!" His face lit up as his mouth morphed into a small opening. "Oh, it wasn't a thought at all," He shouted, his mouth still in that small thing. He stuck out his tongue and showed it to Gandalf. There was a stick bug on his tongue, still very alive too. I cringed and backed up from the supposed wizard. I wasn't sure that he was what Gandalf said he was, even if he could command rabbits. I glanced at Fili, who was equally as disgusted. Gandalf looked around, grabbed Radagast's shoulder and lead him away, out of our ear shot. That's when I got a good look at the left side of his face. There was something on it, and I couldn't tell what it was. I stepped out of their way and took a good gander at him. Shorter then Gandalf, yet taller then Thorin. Nice long beard, very knotted and covered in that stuff that started at his hat and ended at the bottom of his beard. He had a staff, like Gandalf, and he dressed in all brown.     "That can't be a wizard," Fili said, stepping up next to me. I nodded.     "What's that on his beard anyways," I asked.     'It looked like a type of fungus," Bombur said. I turned around and looked at our cook, who shrugged. "What, I saw what looked like a mushroom on his shoulder. It's a good snack-" I gagged, loudly, shutting Bombur up.     "Can't they only grow in-"     "They can grow in anything," Bilbo said.     "Crap," Nori finished.     "It just helps the plant grow when they are planted in fertilizer," Bilbo said, giving him a glare. "I bet he has some sort of dirt on his coat, and hasn't washed it in a while."     "Hasn't washed anything in a while," Dori grumbled. I nodded and sat down on a rock, Fili taking the one next to me. Bofur cocked his head.     "I've a hat like a wizard," He said, staring at Radagast. He reached up and stroked his hat. "Fancy that...."     "I doubt that's a wizard," Myrin said. "Was that a bird that flew under his hat," She asked, pointing to Radagast. All heads swiveled and watched in horror as Radagast shifted his hat again, revealing the nest he had in his hair. Ori looked up, then looked at his note book, shutting it slowly. Something pierced the sound of the forest, sharp and rough.     "Was that a wolf," Bilbo asked, looking around. I pulled my bow off my back and notched an arrow Gloin had been kind enough to get from the troll's hoard.     "Wolf, no," Bofur said. A Warg crept in behind them, and sprang. I loosed my arrow and readied another as another Warg crept around the other side. Dwalin and Myrin took care of that one.     "Get to the ponies," Thorin shouted. Ori appeared over the side of the rock mound where he went to grab the ponies.     "We can't, they've bolted," He shouted as Gandalf came back into the clearing.     "Who did you tell outside your kin Thorin," Gandalf shouted.     "No one," Thorin yelled back, still staring at the Warg.     "WHO DID YOU TELL," Gandalf yelled.     "No one, I swear! What in Durin's name is going on?!" More Warg howls split the air.     "It's a scout," Dwalin shouted from the other Warg.     "That means an Orc Pack isn't far behind," Myrin added. Bilbo looked at her.     "Pack?!"     "I'll lead them off," Radigast shouted. Gandalf turned around.     "They are Gundabad Wargs, they will out run you," He shouted at the other wizard. Radagast turned to Gandalf, a defiant smirk on his face.     "These are Rascobel Rabbits," He shouted back. "I'd like to see them try!" He jumped onto his sled and rode off with a whistle to his rabbits.     "He's going to need some help," Myrin said, walking towards Lakita.     "You aren't going to follow are you," Fili and I shouted. She turned around and glared.     "They might have archers," She quickly growled. "I can fly out of range, but he can't ride quick enough! I don't care if those are rascobel rabbits!" She jumped onto Lakita's saddle and flew into the air.     "Fili, Kili, come on," Dwalin shouted, pulling us away from the rock mound. A head, Radagast burst out of the forest, and a huge Orc pack past the opening. Gandalf lead the way, through the bare field filled with yellowing grass and boulders. Okay, so it wasn't really empty, but it was more bare then the forest! Run, run, run, trip over Gloin as the company stops abruptly. As a scout  broke off and ran up to the top onto the boulder we were hiding under. I looked to the sky, wondering where Myrin was. When she didn't show up, Thorin turned to me and nodded at my bow. I nodded and took a deep breath. I shoved off the boulder and shot the Warg. As it staggered, the Orc pulled out a horn. Another arrow and he dropped the horn. The Warg fell off the rock and rolled in front of me, yelping. Dwalin took care it it, but not quick enough. The pack stopped following Radagast and turned towards us. One yelled out something and we were pushed into a sprint again. We raced towards a high boulder, until they were right on our tail.     "Turn and fight," Thorin yelled. I turned around and loosed arrow after arrow.     "We're surrounded," Fili yelled. I looked around, to find our wizard missing.     "Where's Gandalf," I shouted as I loosed another arrow.     "He's abandoned us," Dwalin shouted. I backed up a little as a Warg crashed into the spot I was just standing.     "This way you fools," Gandalf shouted, appearing behind a smaller rock in front of the bigger one. One by one the company ran towards Gandalf and disappeared from sight.     "Kili come on," Thorin shouted. I loosed another arrow and jumped into the crack hidden behind the rock Thorin was standing on. I rolled down the steep slope, stopping at Fili's feet. He pulled me to mine as Thorin stopped rolling, getting to his own feet by himself. We who didn't have ours out already drew our swords, preparing to fight the Orcs that would undoubtedly find us. Another horn split the air, horses tramped just in front of the opening. Wargs howled as bow strings were released. An Orc rolled down the slope, dead. Thorin pulled the arrow out of his neck and examined it with a scowl deepening by the second.     "Elves," He hissed, throwing the arrow to the ground. Dwalin called from the back of the cave.     "I can't see where the path leads, do we follow it or no?" Bofur looked up from the Orc at his feet and grabbed Bifur's shoulder.     "Follow it of course," He shouted. He ran towards Dwalin and brushed past him, Bifur following half a step behind. Bombur followed his cousins and everyone followed Bombur. I fell into step behind Bilbo.     "You okay hobbit," I asked. Bilbo turned around and looked at me, his eyebrow twitching.     "Just never really been running for my life before," He mumbled. He turned back around and we continued down the very narrow path. How Bombur managed to fit was beyond me. Just ahead of the hobbit, I noticed that Thorin kept looking towards the sky, but you couldn't see much. The path was just as narrow up there as it was down here. The path opened up, revealing a hidden valley with a large marble house to the left of a waterfall. All in all, the valley was beautiful. Gandalf emerged from the path and walked around Bilbo.     "Welcome to the valley of Imladris, but you may know it by another name," He said. Bilbo looked at the marble house and almost smiled.     "Rivendell," He said. I sighed and glanced at Thorin, who was simmering. This was going to be fun... I looked at Fili, who looked like he was thinking the same thing. He looked at me and grimaced.     "The Last Homely House that lies east of the sea," The wizard added. Thorin turned around and glared at Gandalf.     "This was your plan all along," Thorin growled at him. "To seek refuge with our enemy!?" Gandalf glared back at him.     "You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill will to be found in this valley is what you bring here yourself."     "You think that the Elves will give their blessing to this quest?" Thorin deepened his glare. "They will try to stop us."     "Of course they will, but we have questions that need to be answered. If wee are to be successful this will need to be handled with tact, and respect, and no small degree of charm. That's why you will leave the talking to me." Thorin growled at Gandalf as he walked away.     "Looks like we follow the wizard," Fili mumbled to me. I nodded and followed the wizard. We walked down the path, across a bridge, and into a nice circular courtyard, with stairs leading away in front of us, into the marble house. We set down our things and looked around.     "Mithrandiar," Someone shouted from the stairs. It was an elf, with long black hair, wearing a robe. Gandalf turned around and smiled at the elf, striking up a conversation in elvish.     "My lord Elrond isn't here," The elf said suddenly. Gandalf cocked his head.     "Where is he," He asked. Another horn sounded from behind us, so we turned around. A troop of horses trotted towards us, with armored elves on top. So what did we do? Grouped up and readied our weapons, looking as intimidating as we could. The horses circled us, all eyes on us. They stopped prancing, and one with even longer black hair and a silver circlet over his eyebrows smiled at Gandalf.     "Gandalf," He shouted happily. He turned the conversation to elvish again. He held up an Orc's sword and looked at Gandalf. He handed it to the first elf, who bowed deeply. He and two others with dark hair walked away, leading the rest of the elves away. "It's strange for Orcs to travel so close to our borders," He said in basic, looking at us. "Someone, or something must of drawn them near..." Gandalf smiled nervously.     "That might of been us," He admitted. I scowled at Gandalf. The elf turned towards the company as Thorin stepped ahead of everyone.     "Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain," The elf said, nodding respectfully. I looked at Thorin. He hated elves, yet this one knew him. Thorin raised his head a little and stuck his chin out.     "I don't believe we've met," He said curtly. Okay, if I wasn't confused before, I was now. The elf cocked his head slightly.     "You have your grandfather's bearing," He said. "I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain." Thorin sneered.     "Indeed, he made no mention of you." I had half a mind to step on his foot. Elrond narrowed his eyes and glared at Thorin as he said something in elvish, matching Thorin's steely tone perfectly. Everyone tensed.     "What's he sayin'," Gloin hissed. "Does he offer us insult?!"     "He's offering you food, master Dwarf," Gandalf shouted over the rising voices. Everyone shut up, then started to talk to their neighbor in hushed tones. I already knew what they were going to say, even Thorin. We were out of food, supplies, and steeds, which we needed desperately. Gloin cleared his throat and gestured with his ax.     "Well, erhm, lead on," he mumbled. The elf actually smiled and turned around. Gandalf flashed Thorin and Gloin an evil look, then followed the elf up the stairs. We picked our things up and trudged up the stairs. We past many elves, who were talking in hushed tones, pointing and sometimes snickering, all in elvish.     "I've heard about Rivendell," Bilbo mused. "But the description my books gave is falling short." I snorted. Bilbo glared at me. I ignored him.     "Why are they laughing at us," I asked Fili. Fili looked at me.     "Don't know- That's why," He said, pointing to my head. I patted the top, and felt something. I picked it up and brought it in front of my face. In my hand was a huge spider, and my throat closed up. It wiggled it's legs, and I dropped it. It's legs closed up, then it rolled over on it's legs and turned towards me. It charged, and that's when I kicked it away. Bilbo stared at the spider as it climbed the wall and went down a passageway.     "That was big," He mumbled. I nodded, shuddering. Fili patted my back.     "That's got to be the best reaction to a spider I've seen you have," He mumbled. I punched him, even though he spoke truth.     "Still doens't mean spiders aren't evil," I growled. We walked towards another pavilion, this one had seven hallways, a garden in the middle. The elf turned around.     "This is where you'll be staying while you are here," He said. "There's a bathhouse down the middle passage, a garden to the left, and the rest are sleeping quarters. Supper will be in two hours." He walked away, leaving us alone in the little garden. Gandalf stared at us, the hand gripping his staff was white.     "You are all idiotic," He growled as he walked out of the garden and into one of the rooms. He slammed the door behind him. Thorin turned around.     "Get ready to eat," He growled, stalking into another room. Fili and I took the room next door to his and set the stuff on the bed. It was large, and homey, with a few armchairs, paintings of peaceful scenery and a hearth. There were two beds, both very soft. I ran towards the bed, jumped and flopped on the bed, face first.     "Too soft," I mumbled as I sunk into the mattress. Fili sat on his bed, and sunk a foot.     "Definitely too soft." I rolled off the bed and tackled Fili. We tumbled to the floor.     "What was that," Someone asked, just outside the door. Fili and I looked up.     "Don't know, just open it," Another said quietly. I scrambled off Fili and dove under the bed, Fili doing the same. The door opened quietly and two sets of feet walked in, wearing elven boots.     "All clear, let's see what they've got," The first said. They bent down near our packs and started to riffle through them after they shut the door.     "An archer," The second said, pulling out my bow. "This is a great bow! Look at how taut the string is!" I heard him twang it and I nearly rolled out from under the bed, but Fili put his hand on my arm, so I stayed put.     "Duel swords too! Man, we're going to have to duel these guys," The first yelled again. They set our weapons on the ground gently.     "Hey, Elladan, check this out," The second said, pulling something out of my pack. He pulled out my stone, and that was the last straw. I crawled out from under the bed on the other side and stood up, Fili coming out with me. That's when I got a good look at the elves digging through our things. Both had dark hair, and were about two feet tall hunched over on their knees. Both sported dark grey clothes and black pants with brown boots.     "Hey, what are you doing with my stuff," I growled at them. The brothers, I suspected they were twins, turned around. "You aren't elves," I asked as I got a look at their faces. Elves had angled faces, with pointed chins and noses most of the time, but these two had more human faces with softer edges and round noses. The one on the left rolled his eyes and turned to his brother.     "Why does everyone say that," Elladan growled half heartedly. The other one put his head in his hands, shaking them both. "I'm not saying we aren't! But why do they have to point that out!"     "Whoa, I was just wondering," I said, holding up my hands. The one who had his face buried looked up and scanned my frame.     "You aren't dwarrow," He mumbled.     "I am too," I yelled at him.     "Don't you dare disrespect my brother," Fili shouted at the same time. Both of them held up their hands. Elladan stood up.     "Okay.... We don't mean any disrespect," He said looking at me. "It's just that when we meet someone, the first thing they say is 'You aren't elves,' and we've gotten very annoyed with it over the past few centuries... Okay, let's start over." He held out his hand. "I'm Elladan-"     "And I'm Elrohir," The other said, standing up and taking Fili's hand. Elladan took mine and shook it vigorously. I pulled my hand out and wiped it on my trousers. What, he had sweaty palms!     "We were just trying to find out more about our visitors," Elladan explained. Fili stuck his chin out at him.     "Don't go through someone's packs if you want to know more about them," He growled, very Thorin like.     "Some of our company won't take too kindly to some elf digging through their things," I added. "Now get out!"     "What," Elladan shouted.     "Why," Elrohir added.     "Because we've got a few friends that will kill you on sight if they see you in here," Fili finished. Just that second, the door opened up. A young human stood in the doorway. He looked at the two half-elves, started to shout something at them, then saw Fili and I.     "Who are you two," He asked.     "Fili and Kili, now GET OUT OF OUR ROOM," FIli shouted. We shoved the two towards the door, succeeding in getting Elladan out.     "Hey, I have a better idea," Elrohir shouted, bracing himself on the doorway. I shoved harder. "Supper's in a few, why don't you two see Rivendell with us!" I stopped shoving.     "There's more," Fili asked. All three of them nodded.     "Lots more," The third shouted.     "We can show you, then send you to the dining pavilion," Elladan shouted. I backed up from Elrohir and he lowered his arms from the frame.     "There's so many hiding holes, climbing areas-"     "Not to mention the ancient tree," Elrohir added to the other's remarks. Fili and I shared a look.     "What do you think," I asked. Fili thought for a while longer. Thorin's door started to creak open, and we ran out, making sure to shut the door after us. We dragged the trio behind us, more like they followed us. Thorin's door shut, and I risked a glance. Our moody uncle was nowhere to be seen, so I whacked Fili's shoulder. He noticed it too, and stopped running. The trio fell over us.     "What happened," No-name yelled. Fili and I slapped a hand over his mouth.     "Our uncle happened," Fili mumbled.     "Estel, Elladan, Elrohir, where are you," Someone called from down the hall. All three looked up and horror crossed their faces. They scrambled off Fili and I, pulled us to our feet and dragged us down another hall, getting us hopelessly lost in Rivendell. When we finally stopped in another garden, I wrenched my arm from Estel's grip.     "Why are we running," Fili shouted, demanding to be set down. Yeah, Elrohir had to pick up Fili, 'cause he couldn't keep up. Elrohir set Fili down and flopped onto the grass.     "From Ada," Estel grumbled. Fili leaned up against a statue, I actually sat on the ledge. I looked Estel over because there wasn't anything else to do. He was around twenty, with black hair, a little stubble, and dark clothes like the twins. Only he had bare feet. Well, what else could I look at. I looked up at the statue I was sitting on, and screamed, falling off it. Fili pulled out one of his daggers and looked around. Estel, and the other two were on their feet in a second, each had a branch in their hand. I stared at the statue, unsure that was exactly who I saw. Fili followed my gaze, sheathing his dagger.     "Whoa..." He mumbled.     "You screamed because of a grave," Estel growled. Fili and I shared a look. "Wait, do you two know her?"     "No, they couldn't have, she died way long ago," Elladan growled. I sighed.     "That looks just like Myrin," I said, throwing a thumb towards the statue. Well, it was more like three statues, a mother, and two children. The mother looked just like Myirn when she had her hood up, and a dress on. The children weren't that different, a hood, robe/dress, smiling too. Four ringings from a bell somewhere interrupted our thoughts.     "SUPPER," They shouted. Elladan and Elrohir ran out of the garden, Estel waved for us to follow. He ran out, Fili and I shared another look and followed.

    We arrived at the pavilion, but the wrong one. The elf that talked with Gandalf, Estel said his name was Elrond, lead us to where the company was eating. Fili and I took our spots at the lower table, and the dead music started. An elf maid was at the lyre, a few more on a few flutes, and one more on another lyre.     "Just try it," Dori said to Ori, who was eyeing a lettuce leaf with disgust.     "I don't like green food," Ori said, setting the leaf down. Dori gave up and turned to his cup again. "Do they have any chips," Ori asked, looking down the table. Dwalin lifted up the greens in a bowl and threw it back down.     "Where's the meat," He asked. I chuckled and looked at the maid at the lyre. Thorin, Gandalf, and Elrond walked into the pavilion and sat at the higher table. The elf at the lyre looked at me and I winked. Dwalin caught that, and looked at me. I looked at him and frowned.     "Can't say I fancy elf maids myself," I said, shaking my head slightly. Bofur looked at me, I glanced back. "They're too thin... All high cheekbones, and creamy skin... None of that for me," I added quietly. The maid with the lyre walked behind me, and I wrinkled my nose. "Though that one isn't bad," I said, turning towards her. Dwalin snorted and leaned in towards me.     "That's not an elf maid," He said quietly. Said 'elf maid' turned around, and I felt my face start to blush. Bofur, Dwalin, and Dori started to laugh, while Balin, Fili and Ori, bless their hearts, stared at me with a little smirk. I nodded and attempted to bury myself in my shirt.     "Yeah, that's funny," I said, still nodding. Oin picked up his ear trumpet and looked around, abandoning the piece of vegetable he had speared with his knife. The flutist behind him decided to play a rather shrill note that second. Oin growled again as he shoved a napkin into the trumpet. He put it back to his ear and smiled. I tucked half heartedly into my greens, then remembered our dear brown clothed wizard. Were I had once been starving, I was suddenly not hungry. Bilbo looked at his sword as Elrond said something to Thorin and Gandalf, I wasn't listening. Balin and the hobbit spoke, something about a letter opener. Thorin frowned at the table, and excused himself quietly. I looked at Fili, who was busy talking with Nori, who wasn't paying attention to him, but to the pepper shaker made of pure brass. Thorin walked past me and frowned, then stood behind me after snatching a cup from the table. Nori shoved the shaker into his coat and continued to eat. He threw down his fork and looked at the musician behind him.     "Change the tune, why don't you," He growled. He turned back around. "I feel like I'm at a funeral," He added quietly, digging into his ear. Oin looked up.     "Did somebody die," He asked. Someone might if they don't get more lively music, by Nori's scowl. Bofur shook his head and leaned towards Nori.     "Alright lads," He shouted. "There's only one thing for it!" Bofur climbed onto the table and walked over the food, jumping onto the podium. He turned towards Elrond and held out his hand.     "Theeeerrrreee'sss aaaannnnnnn inn," He began. Everyone's polite, fake smiles turned to real ones as he continued. "There's an inn beneath an old grey hill! And there they brew a beer so brown that the man in the moon himself came down, one night to drink his fill!" The company stopped stomping to the rhythm and looked up at Bofur to see if he would continue. I threw a roll at him, urging him to continue. It landed on the other side of Elrond's chair. Bofur continued and we started to stomp and pound again.     "The ostler has a tipsy cat, that plays a five string fiddle," He laughed. He leaned back, "Now squeaking hiiiiiiiiigh!" He leaned forward, missing all the rolls and green things we threw at him. "Now puuuurrrrrring looooooww!" He righted himself again, a smile bright on his face. "Now sawing in the middle!" We chucked more and more food at him as he continued. "Now the cat with the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle, a jig that'll wake the dead! Now he squeaked and he sawed and he quickened the tune, while the landlord shook the man in the moon, it's after three he said!" We erupted in laughter as the food flew up, towards Bofur, and at eachother. I threw a pie at Bofur's face and he ducked with a sweeping bow. It flew towards Elrond, and hit the statue next to him. The elf standing next to it turned towards the statue slowly, his face a look of pure terror. Thorin guffawed at the poor elf's face, nearly spilling his drink all over me.     "HEEELLLLPPPP," Someone shouted from the hall, silencing all laughter. Elladan, Elrohir and Estel ran through, and hid behind Bofur. They shouted something in elvish. Gandalf and Elrond stood up. Elrond started to shout back, then something screeched in the hall. Something I soon realized was Lakita covered in mud ran into the hall, spotted the three and shrieked at them. Gandalf stood up and walked towards her, but she snapped at him. She turned back towards the three, and spotted me. The griffon jumped over Bofur and the three, landed on the table and looked at me expectantly. I reached up and rubbed her beak. She trilled happily then clacked at me.     "What's she saying laddie," Balin asked.     "Beats me," I said, still rubbing her beak. Lakita pulled her head away and trilled again, this time coldly. She flapped her wings, flinging mud everywhere.     "Kili back up slowly," Thorin said. Lakita cawed at him, shaking her head at him, flinging even more mud. I scooted backwards and stood up, ever so slowly. She took a step towards me and stuck her beak in my face. She trilled slowly, looking at me through her green eye, which was narrowed like a cat's. Her eye widened and she looked right at Fili. She cawed once more at him and switched her gaze between us. She leaped into the air and pranced around like a dog might. She shook everything, spraying all the elves with mud.  We dwarves saw it coming, Gandalf too, and dove under the tables.     "What's that on her back," Estel shouted as I pulled myself out from under the table.     "It's a sadd- MYRIN!" She was collapsed on the saddle, face first. Lakita rolled her head and blinked at me, eyes narrowed.     "What's a saddmyrin," Elladan asked. I jumped onto the table and scrabbled at the legs straps, Fili working on the other side. Myrin moaned as she slid towards me.     "I wasn't ready Fili," I shouted as she fell on me. Her leg was still in the strap on this side, and it would break if I tried to undo it. Fili rolled under Lakita and undid the strap. Myrin fell off the saddle completely and just about squished me. Fili and I lowered her to the table, and heard her snore.     "Is she sleeping," Nori asked.     "She doesn't sleep on the saddle," Thorin assured. "Oin, what's wrong?" Oin was grumbling from his spot next to the table.     "Look at the goose egg on her head," He growled, pointing to a mud covered spot on her head. I thought it was just a clump of mud, but her hair was still in a braid. "Sit her up," Oin growled. Elrond walked over, mud everywhere on his front but his face where he wiped the mud off.     "What do you need," He asked.

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Pink Bubbles of Impending Romantic Doom

Author: Nimmy_

Year: 2008

Rating: PG

Characters: Naboo, Bollo, Chav Shaman, The Hitcher

Naboo shifted uneasily in the moonlit alleyway, glancing furtively left and right. Bollo’s reassuring presence was tangible just behind him as always, though his nerves still were as taut as stretched cheesewire. This was a shady operation; if he was found out the board would revoke his powers or worse. “What time is it, Bollo?” The tiny shaman rasped in his slightly worried monotone. “Ughh. Quarter to one,” the familiar answered, glancing at an imaginary timepiece. “We’ve been here over an hour! I don’t believe this, where is he?” “Cool ya boots, Naboo – I’s ere, innit?” Naboo’s little heart almost popped right out of his chest as the shady black-market shaman appeared. “About bloody time, where’ve you been? We’ve been waiting ages!” “Aright, chill, yeah? Lost track of time, me an’ Deebo were playin’ Mario Galaxy on ‘is Wii and I was well givin’ im beatin’s!” Naboo’s dark eyes smouldered quietly. “Do you like Mario Galaxy, Naboo?” “I dunno. I haven’t got any computer games,” he paused. “Well actually, Bollo’s got a gameboy. I’m good at Pac man.” Bollo grunted his agreement. “He better than me. I no can get past ghosts.” “Pac man? Dat’s well borin’, you gotta get one of dem Wii fings, dey’re the shit, yeah?” Naboo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, have you got the stuff?” “Yeah, you got money?” the shady shaman looked left and right theatrically. Naboo held aloft a roll of notes that amounted to no less than two thousand Euros. “Now we is talkin’,” the shaman took the notes and tucked the roll down his pants. Naboo grimaced. Next, the shaman produced a blue plastic flask from inside his Adidas shamanic tunic. Naboo’s expression melted from tense anticipation to flat disbelief. “What the hell’s that, you jerkoff? I just paid you two thousand Euros for a Thermos of coffee?” “Chill, yeah! Me mum’s washing out all dem mystical-lookin’ glass bottles, dey all had crusty shit at the bottoms. This is all I ‘ad, bruv. It’ll do, yeah?” he extended the flask to the grouchy little shaman, who snatched it from his grasp, quick as a cobra. “I’ve probably got a spare phial to put it in back at the shop,” Naboo conceded with a mutter. “Yeah, sorted!” the shaman looked to the left for a second, scratching his head through his turban. “When you’ve done that den, yeah, can I ‘ave the flask back Naboo? It’s me dad’s, he does a nightshift at the factory and he’ll kick off if he finds out I’ve nicked it.” Naboo rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I’ll bring it with me next time,” he started to walk away. “Come on, Bollo.” The shifty shaman grinned after him with his shimmering gold face. “Cheers Naboo. Laters.” * Naboo arrived home at the flat unannounced, and heard heavy, running footsteps as he ascended the stairs. “What’s going on?” he called, reaching the top of the staircase to see just a flash of little blue knickers and silver go-go boots disappear behind a hastily slammed-shut door. There were satsumas all over the floor. After an impressively short amount of time, Vince appeared from the same door, fully dressed in a superb outfit that was an inspired amalgamation of New Romantic and Beatnik. “Alright!” he grinned, exuding sunshine and fluffy pink candyfloss. Naboo ignored the breezy greeting. “You making a mess in my flat again?” “No,” Vince said, subtly kicking a satsuma under the settee. At this point Howard emerged from the doorway. “Naboo! How’s it going? Did you get your shaman squash?” Naboo frowned at the jazz maverick. “Shaman juice,” he whipped out the flask and brandished it. Vince grinned, sniggering. “Looks like a flask of Nescafe to me.” “He didn’t have a shamanic magic phial, all right? I’m gonna change it,” he snatched the flask back and marched into the kitchen area on his little legs. “So what’s this one do, Naboo?” Vince asked, following him. “Is it like the one last time, does it give you really mental powers? That last one was genius, despite the episode with the horrible fox with shitty breath.” Naboo unscrewed the flask and began to pour the glittering pink liquid into a beautiful rounded jar of red tinted glass. “Nah, it’s nothing like the last one. This one is a cure for hangovers – just one drop will take away the worst hangover. If you’re off your face on speed, one sip will bring you back down instantly.” “Wow!” Vince laughed. “Good for you shamans then, you’re always getting wasted. You’re well hardcore.” Naboo corked the jar and put it in the fridge. “Well, we’re charged with protecting the world from evil and magical menace. That’s a pretty big responsibility. It’s good for us to let our hair down now and again.” “Now and again? You’re a load of crackheads!” A warning glare from Naboo’s direction quieted Vince. “Right, me and Bollo are going in my room to work on Shaman stuff. Keep it down, will you?” “Yeah yeah.” Howard waited until Naboo’s door was shut before hissing at Vince. “You said he wouldn’t be back tonight!” “Yeah, well I could’ve sworn he said he was staying at Pete’s…” Vince shrugged, averting his gaze. Howard wasn’t placated. “The satsuma game isn’t for anyone else to see, it’s just for you and me at night, when we’re on our own!” “Cool it Howard, he didn’t see anything,” Vince brushed off the admonition, taking Naboo’s potion out of the fridge. “Wow, check this out. It’s all pink and sparkly, like a Flirtini. Genius!” “No, come on, Vince – don’t be touching Naboo’s potions. It’ll only end up in disaster-” “It’s only a glorified high-strength Resolve, Howard – what’s it gonna do, cure your headache? Ooh!” He gestured with his hands in mock-terror. “Even so, little man – you can never be too careful. Even Howard Moon, man of action, shows the proper caution when dealing with substances of unknown origin. Oh yes, there have been some close shaves with a particularly lethal magic cocktail in the past. But there was no need to fear, for Howard Moon was there to set all to rights. They call me the maveri- Vince, what are you doing?” “This stuff’s great, it goes all frothy when you shake it up a bit. You can blow bubbles with it. Genius!” Howard watched in disbelief as Vince dipped the little plastic hoop from his bubble-blower into the potion and blew a couple of large bubbles from it. “Vince! You really don’t listen to anything I say, do you?” “It makes big pink glittery bubbles! Look at ‘em, they’re sparkling like psychedelic Fairy liquid disco balls!” Vince giggled as he danced among the bubbles, revelling in the pinky glitteriness. “What were you on about, Howard?” “Nothing. Truly, nothing,” Howard grumbled and flopped onto the settee. Vince went over to the window and opened it. “Check this out. Shoreditch is gettin’ some of these glitter bubbles!” “Fascinating.” Swishing the little plastic hoop around in the shimmering pink potion, Vince took a huge deep breath and created an explosion of glittery pink bubbles from the window. The wind carried them away in all directions and filled the night sky with tinselly orbs of pink. “That’ll cheer everyone up,” Vince laughed, stepping away from the window. He bounced over to Howard and sat next to him. “Howard?” Silence. “Howard.” “…” “Howard, Howard,” Vince pressed. Howard studied his nails. “Howard, Howard? Howard. Howard. Howard! Howard! Howard? Howard. Howard, Howard!” Howard swung his head around to face Vince to give him a sharp reprimand, only to receive a mouthful (and indeed, a faceful) of pink glitter bubbles. Howard spluttered and cursed as Vince just laughed himself silly and blew more bubbles at Howard, hitting him in the hat and the moustache. “Hohohh, aw Howard. Sorry. I couldn’t help it.” Nothing. “Come on, Howard. Don’t get your y-fronts all twisted. It was just a prank to cheer you up.” Howard just grabbed the potion from Vince, looked at him, then splashed him in the face with the jar. Vince gasped in shock and horror. “Howard, you ballbag, look what you’ve done to me hair!” Howard simply found the cork, plugged the jar and put it back in the fridge before storming off to his room. Vince was fuming. He threw himself towards the nearest mirror to inspect the damage. It had completely soaked, and therefore flattened, the front of his hair. His entire fringe. He wiped the pink glittery wetness from his face with the back of his hand and licked it from his lips. It tasted remarkably like Pink. If each colour had one definitive taste, this is what Pink would taste like. It was rather nice, actually. He continued licking around his mouth and cleaned the smears off the back of his hand with his pink-stained tongue. ** Far away now, the pink bubbles rode the currents of the wind like little men riding magical horses of cheese. The winds tossed them far and wide. One of them passed directly over the house of the shady black-market Shaman. The one with the Gold Face. We don’t know his name, really. Let’s call him Francis. Francis was just mopping the last of the tomato sauce from his plate with a soggy toast soldier when a thought occurred to him. After meeting Naboo, he had just returned his potions to their freshly washed phials, to discover that he had one hangover-cure too many in his stock cupboard. Thinking this just a jammy mistake on his potion-dealer’s part, he’d continued to munch down his spaghetti hoops without concern. But now, as he chewed on the sauce-smeared soldier, he decided he should check his stock. He left his plate for his mum to find and wash, heading to his room. * He looked at each carefully labelled jar, and checked them against his hand-written stock-sheet. “Two bottles of Nympho juice, ‘free bottles of sex-reverse potion, two bottles of owl-beak cream…” There was certainly a theme ongoing in the majority of Francis’ stock, due to the majority of demands. “… one jar of Goff salve, three jars of fut’cha peanuts… shit, where’s me bottle of Lov’ Juice?” Francis searched frantically through the cupboard. It was starting to make sense. He had one extra jar of hangover-cure, and he was missing one bottle of Love Juice. And he’d just sold Naboo what was supposed to be… Francis gulped. “Friggin’ ell.” ** In the faraway reaches of London’s east end… ** “What’s for tea?” “Toad-in-the-hole.” “Toad in the fuckin’ ‘ole? What ‘ave I told ya, boy? I’m fuckin’ lactose intolerant. Cheese plays merry ‘ell wiv my stomach you onion. What ‘appened to that pie you ‘ad in the oven?” “It got burnt!” “You burnt me pie? Then go out and get anuvver one, you slag!” “Yes boss. I’m a cockney, I’m a cockney…” The Hitcher shook his head in disbelief as the door shut behind Stu. “Useless, that boy…” he muttered to himself. “I need a slash.” Stepping out into the cool night air, The Hitcher unzipped his fly and began to relieve himself right there in the garden. Toilets were for nonces. As the yellow stuff arced from him to make a shimmering frothy pool on the moonlit grass, the Hitcher tilted his head skywards with a groan of relief. “Ohhh, that’s good,” his voice quivered. His eyes closed in rapture, he didn’t see the pink bubble zooming towards his face even as he opened his mouth to make yet another exclamation of bliss. “Fuckin’ ell!” he choked, grasping at his throat. “What the fuck was that?” His eyes were streaming from the coughing fit, and he dabbed his powerful peeper with a grubby handkerchief. “Dear oh dear…” he groaned. Regaining his composure, he tucked away his little green man and zipped his trousers back up. “Fuckin’ insects flying into me gob… hmm. Tasted… pink. Extraordinary.” He went back inside, the little puddle of yellow slowly sinking down into the soil.

[loomisjones]

Our Secrets Out

Summary(REQUEST):  

Pairing: FP X reader

Warnings: explicit sexual content, rushed sex, near physical assault (Chucks an ass,) cheating, FP AND CHERYL ARE ASSHOLES BUT THEYRE ACTUALLY MY FAV IRL IT JUST FIT THE STORY SO DONT TAKE OFFENCE BC THEY'RE MY BABIES, angst

Word count: 1943 A/N: i really dont know how i feel about this. like really, really dont know how i feel. i might make a part 2 just to redeem myself MAYBE. also the reader doesn't come out and splay her love to FP just because it felt kinda immature and unnecessary for the story but it kinda hints at feelings

Your back slid with ease against the off tinted blue bathroom stalls wall, the sweat pooling between the wall and your skin acting as an aid to move you with ease.

 FP sucked at your breast greedily, toying with the nipple as his hand around your waist was the only thing keeping you from falling to the dingy drive ins bathroom floor. That and his three fingers pumping knuckles deep in your pussy.

 You gasped and groaned, rocking against one another and his fingers pumped and your hands stroked the spance of his shaft, your moans mingling in with the cinematic scream outside, trying to get each other off as soon as possible.

 Before you had met FP, foreplay was one of your favourite things about sex. The adrenaline, the blood pumping through your ears as you explore someone’s body, your body getting hot as someone teased you with their mouth. But since meeting FP and diving into your after hour adventures, you hadn’t thought much about the act. Sure, you and FP had done some foreplay, a rough tug on the cock and quick oral, but it always was just that-quick. By the time you and FP found one another at the end of the day, you two were always looking to blow off steam in the quickest way possible; him buried deep in you, so you were happy to throw away any unnecessary hurdles.

 “Goddamit FP, enough,” you whine, stopping your rock on his fingers, “i’m ready.”

 He nods a bit, strands of hair coming out of his slicked back doo to waterfall over his forehead. He uses his hold on you to lift you up a bit, removing his fingers with a slick sound and an emptiness left in you, making you whimper and scratch at the hair at the nape of his neck.

 You brace your hands against his clothe cladded shoulders as he lowers you down on his throbbing beat red cock, his name falling from your lips though it’s quickly shushed with the sloppy press of his lips against yours, the taste of sweat and beer tingling against your lips.

 You tighten your knees against his hips, a groan falling simultaneously from both of you as he pushes you down on his cock, filling you, the feeling just as satisfyingly painful as it has had been since you started your sexcapade a few weeks ago.

 You shift your hips once his balls are pressed against your ass, your walls fluttering around his cock to pull a strangled “fuck” from the man.

 He uses his hold around your waist to drag you forward as he jerks his hips, the thrust needy and demanding, driving into you hard and fast, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin echoing in the room, loud enough to mask even the movie playing outside, the sound only a distant buzzing as FP moved his hips in a punishing rhythm, the sound of his panting the only other distinguishable sound keen to your ears.

 “Fuck, y/n, ‘m so close,” he grunted, his pelvis stuttering for a moment although he pulls himself back together to carry on his ruthless manner.

 His pelvic bone squashes against your clit as he pulls you forward once more, hit cock buried to the roof as he pulls you back down.

 Your own orgasm was sudden and hurried- one minute you were thinking about the drag of FPs cock against your walls and the next your own orgasm was screaming through your, your head tingling as it knocks against the wall, getting pulled down into euphoric bliss.

 FP brought a hand up to the back of your head as is laid against the wall, his thrusts frantic as he pulled your head up and his lips to yours, kissing you until your lungs started to burn, breathing becoming hard.

 Once he rocked through his own orgasm, sporadic thrusts as he pumped you full, he brought his finger down from your waist to your hip, tapping against the bare skin until you got the idea and hopped down, a feeling of pins rushing through your sexed out legs which you hadn’t noticed were asleep until you were left to stand on your own, wobbling a bit as you struggled to pull your pants on.

 You two shuffled around each other, pulling yourself back together quietly once you two got what you needed from one another, nothing more needing to be said past your sexual in devours.

 “I’ll call ya later,” he mumbled, straightening his jacket as he gave you one last over the shoulder glance as he pulled the stall door open, closing it behind him.

 You knew that call would come in a lust filled “come over” or a sporadic after 10 “are you up” and as you heard his boots grit against the gravel in the Twilight Drive-In’s parking lot, getting further from you, you tried your hardest to ignore the clenching of your heart.

 ~

 “Ya know what, Cheryl, let it go.” You hadn't wanted to come to Jughead’s “party” in the first place, let alone stand around and let Riverdales head bitch in charge rip everyone into shreds. Not that you didn't like Jughead, it was that you didn't like parties, especially those that were ran by Northsiders even if you had the same heritage in your blood. It just isn't your scene.

 What also isn't your scene is letting Cheryl humiliate Archie in front of the whole room just for the fact of who he sleeps with, something you knew all too well. So maybe it was the similarity and sympathy you felt for Archie or maybe it was the fact that for all of eighteen years, you had been watching Cheryl scrutinize everyone and you were sick of it, seeing that no one else was going to stand up to the fire Vixen.

 You push yourself off of the stairs railing that you had been leaning on, the path clearing to allow you to walk to the center of the room until you were face-to-face with the fuzzy jacket wearing redhead, Chuck heaving over your shoulder.

“I don't know how much the princess would like her family's, extracurriculars, blasted over town, so let it go.” Even though you grew up on the Northside with people who lived under the blanket of security and blindness to what really goes on under the maple trees of Riverdale, you knew otherwise. You saw things, things specifically pointing back to Clifford Blossom and his drug cartel he decided to pick up.

“Oh yes, y/n,” Cheryl twirls on her lifted heels to face you as you approached, her signature all too sweet smile spreading across her painted red lips as you crowd one anothers space, “dont think I don't know your sins either you middle class twit.”

You raise your eyebrows in an inviting manner, shaking your head a bit as you can't imagine the red lipstick wearing bee could have on you.

“”You and Mr.Dilf Daddy Jones,” her eyes shift to the corner of the room in which FP had been clustered in to, looking completely out of place in the whole situation.

He locks his jaw as his teeth grind, bunching his fists in his pockets to stop himself from stopping the high school girl and what she was about to spill to the whole room, but most importantly, Jughead whose interest was peaked at the mention of his already strained dad.

“How was the movie?” She giggles as if she's just told the world's funniest joke, leaning forward on her toes to push herself closer to your face, able to smell her mint toothpaste as she spit out, “that's right, you two were too busy sweating one out in the girls bathroom.”

She retracts once more, shrugging a bit as a tight lip smile returned to her face, “maybe use the family bathroom next time. Those doors lock.”

You contemplated letting it go, letting her tear you apart just like she did everyone else of Riverdale, but then you saw Jughead. The look of his pain and hurt, and betray fueled your power as you connected your palm to Cheryl’s blush covered cheek, making her double over as the sound of flesh against flesh echoed throughout the room, causing the room to fall silent; someone had stood up to Cheryl and that was something to make everyone shocked.

Cheryl rises back up, a hand over the place you had just connected to seconds ago. She had a look on her face that could kill as her gaze shifted to Chuck, words passin through her gaze.

You turn around to face Chuck only to catch a blur, leaning to the side out of reflex as you just miss the swing of Chuck’s right hook, wind against your cheek.

Everyone comes to the center of the room in a blop, FP the first to stand out as he put himself between you and the younger boy. Everyone followed like a swarm of nats after them, watching as P shooed Chuck away from the scene and then everyone else, announcing the end of the party. You tried to blend in with the cluster as you scrambled down the stairs, keeping your head low as you caught sight of a fumed Jughead huffing back into the house, moving in opposite directions as you managed to avoid being acknowledged by him.

“Are you alright?” You were sure you were going to manage to leave without confronting FP and the hurt you knew would come from the confrontation, but when his comforting, but huffed voice sounded behind you, you stopped in your tracks with your back staying to him.

You nod a bit until you turn around, facing the open mouth red in the face man, choking out a simple “thanks.”

You clear your throat, raising into a more confident tone as you shift on your weight, keeping your head titled low, “are you okay?”

He laughs a bit as he shakes his own head up and down, brining a hand up to thrust through his locks, “am i alright? Yeah, y/n, im alright besides the fact that my son, who already hated his old man as is, is cheating on his mom.” He stomps his foot on the ground, making you take a step back as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. You knew the wife talk was going to come up at some point- he kept it on as he fucked you, for god sake.

“We can figure it out,” you manage to spit out before he interrupts you with wide eyes like you just told him the earth was flat,

“Figure it out? We? There's no we, y/n.” He shakes his head at you as if you were an ignorant child telling him the dumbest thing he'd ever heard.

You felt your heart break under your skin, jagged pieces splintering as your knees wobbled and your eyesight started to get blurry, your voice cracking as you spoke “Okay, FP.”

You stumbled back on feet that you didn't trust as they felt like jelly, stepping back from FP and the feelings you so desperately wanted to be reciprocated. FP had a slight twing in his face, looking like he wanted to reach out to you but instead he huffed and whipped his car keys in his hands, striding to his truck with fury, Your first tear falling as you turn on your feet to carry yourself the furthest you can get from FP, from Cheryl, from everything that ripped your world in half.

[archiveofidentityconstellations]

if you like to be a sad squashed tomato...

im in a m00d so i must share my old unfinished sad stuff here you go!!

"Jay!”

“Shut up, Babs! This has nothing to do with you!” And Jason is behind him, dogging every step like a predator. “What’s the matter, old man?”

The shadows intertwine on the steps. Bruce keeps his head low, avoiding the young man’s eyes. Jason, however, pushes in his space, smile gleeful in that wild way. Bruce never had liked that smile. It spoke of backalleys and blood under nails and laughing death and pain and—

“C’mon,” Jason breathes, placing a boot between Bruce’s feet, cutting him off. Trapping him. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of little ol’ me. Little ol’ Jaylad, yeah?”

Bruce lifts his head and meets the boy’s teal eyes. His own are as hard as rock, but he’s crumbling. He’s crumbling, he needs to get out of there but Jay won’t. let. him.

-

"I remember! I remember! It’s not the same as you, but I’m still here! I’m still here!”

-

“What about when I was fourteen? And I wanted to join the school paper, but you said no and I screamed at you? I broke your Christmas gift to me, the platinum Rolex, right on the coffee table and you—” Jason winces, voice lowering, “and you flinched, and B-B, you looked so hurt, but then you l-looked at me and I swear to God I thought you were going to hit me but you didn’t, you kept your promise.” Jason’s eyes glitter in the cave lights. “You kept your promise,” he repeats, hardly a whisper.

-

“You didn’t know a lot of things about me, but you suspected, I know you did,” Jason insists, voice getting higher. “You knew the things I did, you just didn’t want to look at me then, you didn’t want to deal with me or believe—” Jason cuts himself off. “I beat the shit out of Tom Bradley. I beat the shit out of a lot of people, after I said I wouldn’t fight no more but I lied.”

Bruce wouldn’t look at him.

“I visited my mom’s apartment almost every month,” Jason continues, earnest now. His sweaty bangs are falling into his eyes. “I never asked permission, I slipped off gathering intel because I was good at it, shit, and you wouldn’t—”

Bruce turns his head, eyes closed.

Jason switches tactics, scrambling, “You and I built that treehouse in the yard, we finished by ourselves after Dickie—we built it and Selina gave me that wind chime to put on it, because it had b-birds on it.”

-

“You stayed with me. After I cried like a baby when Lilka moved away, and Alfred made stew even though it was summer just because I liked it. Y-you let me drive in the back lot, in the DeLorean because I liked it even though it was your dad’s. You never smacked me on the mouth when I said cruel things, you never fought back. You…you even bought me a fucking toothbrush when I forgot mine when we went on that stupid road trip.”

Bruce remembers. It was neon orange and it stuck out of Jason’s mouth as he toweled off his hair in the hotel bathroom. The room was freezing but Jason wouldn’t put on a sweater his pajama top, and he could see the kid’s knobby spine every time he bent over his travel bag. Bruce made him eat a large breakfast that next morning, and Jason had sleepily spilled his orange juice over his eggs. “This sure ain’t eggcellent,” he joked groggily, numbly chewing on the runny eggs and blinking blearily at the TV. Weather channel.

-

“But that’s all for nothing, huh?” He kicks the batmobile, and it jerks slightly. Bruce narrows his eyes slightly, on the aware even now. Jay never knew his own strength, never—never listened to him, goddamnit, never knew when to stop and when to let someone else help him and when to go to someone for help because he was just a kid and when to let Bruce be his dad and when to tell the truth and not go off and—

“It’s all screwed!” Jason announces, laughing in that hysteric fashion. He leans over, hands on his knees, like it’s an episode of the Three Stooges. “All because of one choice, one choice, but it ISN’T as IF I KNEW THAT!”

His yell echoes in the cave. Dick drags Damian closer, despite the boy’s struggling. He doesn’t think Jay will do anything, but.

Dick closes his eyes. Jay has done things that no one expected before. Things he’s sure Jay did not even know he was capable of.

Dick opens his eyes, yanking Damian to between his knees and giving him a little shake to let him know he means business. Damian buttons his lips and looks away, small body warm with frustration and tight with worry.

“I did what you told me to do!” Jason shouts hoarsely. “I did what was right, and I got killed for it! Because there ain’t no fucking formula to this business, it’s all just fucking luck! It’s all just FUCKING LUCK!”

-

“I’m just as much your son now as I was then! But you didn’t want to see me then either!”

-

“Bruce, come on!” he pleads, almost shrieking, voice cracking. “Please!”

wheeeewhooooo 🚨 it's Monday happy Monday 🤗

[sleepydrarry]

I JUST READ THE SADDEST FIC AND NOW I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO IM ACTUALLY SL SAD. IT WAS ABOUT HOW DRACO AND HARRY'S "scared potter?" And "you wish" THROUGHOUT THE YEARS BUT AT THE END DRACO DIES AND HES JUST LAYING ON THE ROAD WITH BLOOD EVERYWHERE AND HE SOFTLY WHISPERS "scared potter?" BC ITS TOO LATE FOR AN EMERGENCY TRUCK TO COME AND THEY BOTH KNEW HE WOULD DIE SO HARRY, TRYING NOT TO CRY STUTTERED "you wish" AND KISSED DRACO ONE LAST TIME. IM CRYING WTF HELP I NEED FICS THATLL CHEER ME UP PLS

OMG YOU POOR SOUL. I feel you, we have all been there! Also that fic sounds heartbreaking I’ll need to read it. I’m going to give you a collection of feel-good fics that I love dearly and that always make me smile.

Drarry + feel-good fic recs

• Crutch, by AWickedMemory (11k)Harry has too much to do, and Draco, too little. The solution? Hire him, of course. Who knew Draco Malfoy would be such a perfect personal assistant?(One of my precious loves in terms of fic. Assistant!Draco is brilliant, and Harry just can’t do without him. This is hilarious, in character, and so good.)

• Little Red Courgette by blamebrampton (31k)When this season’s purple courgettes are woefully thin, Draco Malfoy thinks it amounts to small beans. Next thing he knows, the Department of Standards is over-run with leeks, Brussels sprouts all sorts of legislative difficulties, and somebody appears to have put a roquette under Harry Potter. Can Draco seize a marrow victory? Or will his plans for peas be squashed?(I’ve laughed myself to tears on more than one occasion while reading this because it’s so witty and endlessly fun. Author is a genius, truly.)

• there’s a trick with a dragon I’m learning to do by curiouslyfic (20k)Harry’s live-in’s a workaholic being courted — harassed — by an array of weeping minions and an assortment of overprivileged pricks. Harry’s bloody portraits are being harassed — courted — by, well, an assortment of things Harry doesn’t even want to think about. Harry’s had a long week already and so far, his weekend’s not looking much better. At least he can say with certainty there’s no place like home… (I have so much love for this fic. It has established Drarry with all this domesticity, lovely detailssss, and such great writing. Can’t rec it enough!)

• Life Is The Flower (For Which Love Is the Honey) by bafflinghaze (15k)The Malfoy Manor lands are lush and verdant. Bees hover over carpets of flowers, and ducks paddle in the pond. It is a place far removed from bustling London and pesky reporters; it is a place where Harry finds what—and who—he didn’t know he was missing.(A fluffy favorite of mine. It’s so goofy and full of bickering, them being adorkable, all this argumentative flirting, and Harry’s baking!)

• In the Company of a Rubber Duck by birdsofshore (34k)War makes for strange bedfellows. However that doesn’t fully explain how Harry ended up sharing his bath with Draco Malfoy… nor why Malfoy was a rubber duck at the time.(This sounds cracktastic, and it is. All kinds of hilarious, but also very sweet and precious. Featuring Draco at a muggle cinema and such fun things.)

• Crystal Clear by ICMezzo (6.7k)Harry customizes a snow globe. Draco listens to centaur weather reports. Ron investigates the height of Pansy’s boots. And Hermione knows even more than everything, as usual. (No one signs up for the class for lactating witches.)(I love everything about this short lil’ beauty. It is chock full of gloriously fun details, Auror partners!Drarry, and such great characterizations I can’t.)

• Endangered Familiar by ravenpan (8k)After the war, all he wanted was some peace and quiet. What he got, was a penguin that brought the exact opposite. (Extremely cute is what comes to mind when I think of this fic. I just love penguin!Draco so much and the way he and Harry are in it. Wonderful!)

• Settle in my slow-burning heart by Teatrolley (10k)Five years after the war Draco is working a tech developer job in the Auror Office, and it’s all great except this one thing: Harry Potter works there, too. Things only become stranger when Harry starts bringing Draco ugly souvenirs back from his work travels. When Harry then shows up injured in Draco’s flat, Draco considers the possibility that he’s going insane. (All kinds of precious, this one! Harry is an adorkable cinnamon roll, the writing style is amazing, and Drarry are sooo passionate together and yet soft.)

• Adrift by dysonrules (13k)Auror Harry takes a vacation in the Caribbean and ends up falling from the sky, straight into the lap of Draco Malfoy, modern pirate. (This is guilty pleasure galore, which is exactly what I need in my life sometimes. So much fun, so good and yet so simple. Love it.)

Bonus:

• Paws of Fury by Veritas03 (92k)“Bellow, bluster… your rage is insignificant. No more than the mewing of a kitten. Do not be afraid. He will save you. Calm you. Love you.” Harry has a furry little problem – but Draco’s scent soothes the savage beastie. Will Draco be able to save him when Harry’s world begins to crumble? (Way longer than the others on this list, but I usually only need a few chapters to get my fix of fluffy feels. This is so cute my heart melts. Kitten!Harry is the most precious thing, and the cuddles are all you’ll need after angsty times.)

[princeyandanxiety]

The "ask me things" ask - all of them!!! Or if that's too insane, do the first 20 and the last 20 :p

The answers are short bc i was rushing them haha but ill put em under the read more

1. You woke up naked next to the last person you texted, what would you say?

… I would be very, very freaked out. Words would not be said. Only screaming.

2. What’s going on between you and the last person you kissed?

I saw him last month. No offense, but he cannot write a decent speech.

3. If your boyfriend or girlfriend was into drugs, would you care?

Depending on the drug, it’d vary from “please just make sure you’re safe” to “oh god how do i convince you that this is a bad idea [panicky pharmacist daughter vibrating]”

4. Is your last name longer than six letters?

[counts letters on fingers] yes!

5. Was your last kiss drunk or sober?

Sober.

6. Have you ever wanted to have someone but you messed it up?

Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyep

7. What does your last received text say?

“Ok, see you next week. Thanks. :)”8. How many times have you kissed the last person you kissed?

Once.

9. Where was your last kiss at?

Kindergarten classroom. In my primary school.

10. When is the last time you saw your sister?

[checks time] uh like an hour ago?

11. What do you drink in the morning?

Water or cinnamon orange tea

12. Where did you sleep last night?

My bed.

13. Do you think relationships are hard?

They’re a lot of work, but they’re ultimately a choice that both people have to make. I’d like to hope that they’re ultimately worth it.

14. If you could go back and change something in the past 5 months, would you?

Mostly test results.

15. You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, any problems?

“Oh, hey, we haven’t talked in like 6 years. How’s life?”

16. Would you rather it be sunny or rainy?

Sunny.

17. Do you know anyone with the same middle name as you?

Lmao fuck no.

18. Are you wearing jeans,sweatpants,or pajama pants?

Pj pants!

19. Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 years from now?

Yes. Because I’ll have finished my HSC.

20. Does anyone like you?

Yes ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

21. Have you ever kissed someone with a name that starts with an S?

No. Only an A, a T, and another A.

22. Is the last person you kissed gay?

[shrugs[

23. Is there a person you CANNOT stand?

There are multiple. Be more specific.

24. Have you ever considered getting a tattoo?

Yeah but I’m a fucking wuss haha I’d probs pass out from the pain or something.

25. In the past week have you cried?

I cried like 9  hours ago lmao

26. What breed was the last dog you saw?

TOY POODLE!

27. Do you dry off in the shower or out of the shower?

Who the fuck dries themself in the shower? It’s all watery in there. Foot mats exist for a reason.

28. Have you ever kissed a football player?

nnnnnnnnnnnnnope

29. Do you think you’re old?

Sometimes i feel a little old, but I know that I’m still pretty damn young

30. Do you like text messaging?

Lmao I prefer it to calling that’s for damn sure. I dont actually text all that much tho. Mostly because the people i’d text have free messenger services anyway. That or the bill for texting them would be pretty fuckin pricey.

31. What type of day are you having?

It’s on the better side of neutral.

32. Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced?

Nooooo thanks. I got my ears pieced when I was like 3 and that was enough for me!

33. Do you prefer warm or cold weather?

Mildly cold weather.

34. Is there a person of the opposite sex who means a lot to you?

Yes! He’s been my friend since kindergarten haha

35. Would you prefer a relationship or a fling?

relationship because i am a massive romantic (whICH REMINDS ME-)

36. Are you a simple or complicated person?

Is anyone actually simple? Like really? There are always so many different parts to one person, so many intricacies and contradictions, good and bad, that they might not even think about.

… so im probably a more complicated person haha.

37. What song are you listening to?

Nice2KnoU by All Time Low i love it sooooo muuuuuuch38. When you say you’re sorry do you mean it?

Most of the time, yeah.

39. Is there a girl that knows everything or almost everything about you?Ooooooh yeah. They probably have the most power to wreck me lmao.

40. What made you start liking the person you like now?

Okay in my defense I didn’t realise I actually liked them until my brain was like “lmao what if you had a crush on this person” and I was like “oh. oh fuck. I actually do have a crush on them” but i think it was a few things. they always make me smile, and they don’t mind that i can be a clingy motherfucker. They’re also funny and super sweet, and they have such an amazing mind and personality. Tbh im not entirely surprised that i fell for them because when i click with someone as well as i initially did with them i tend to develop feelings pretty quickly from there.

41. When did you last receive a text message?5:14 pm

42. What is wrong with you right now?Do you have the time to hear the answer to that?

43. How well do you know the last female you texted?Eh. She’s a  teacher.

44. Does anyone disgust you?

Yes.45. Would you date someone right now if they asked?Unfortunately, no, probably not.

46. Are you in a good mood right now?{come back to this}

47. Who was the last person you talked to in person?My mum

48. What color shirt are you wearing?

Black. Like my soul.49. Has someone recently told you something you didn’t want to hear?Yes.

50. Anyone you’re giving up on?

Yeah. Myself.51. Do you hate the person you fell hardest for?

… yes because he turned out to be a dick.

52. Have you ever thought about giving up on someone but couldn’t?See above.

53. Do you like rain?I frikkin’ love it

54. Do you care if your boyfriend/girlfriend drinks?Not really. I’d only be really worried if it was unhealthy levels of drinking.

55. Have you ever liked somebody and never told them?

… Lmao I always tend to admit it eventually, I think. A few times I’ve been like “oh yeah, I used to have a crush on you haha” 56. Do you like to cuddle?

Never… actually… cuddled before...

57. Are you shy?

Eh, it depends. 58. Do you get along with girls?

I tend to get along better with girls than guys tbh but when I was younger I always had a lot of girl cousins and at primary school it was always pretty divided between boys and girls

59. Have you dated the person you texted last?Fuck. no.

60. What do you carry with you at all times?

My phone 61. If you were paid 1 million dollars to spend the night in a supposed haunted house, would you?

… maybe. 62. Do you think you can last in a relationship for five months?I sure as hell hope I can

63. Think back to October, were you in a relationship?

Ahhh, the beginning of HSC. I was so young then. So hopeful.

Too bad my soul has been squashed. 64. The person you like kisses you on the forehead, do you find this cute?

… Bells has just passed out from thinking about this please leave a message after the beep *beeeeep*65. Did anything “cute” happen in the last week?

My friend did really well on an important test and she was super happy about it haha

66. How old are the last three people you kissed?

Between 17 and 18.

67. Would you rather pay to get your nails done or do them yourself?    I like doing my own nails but tbh I *really* wanna get them done one day.

68. Which do you like better- Zebra print or leopard print?    

How about neither????69. Do you have any stickers on your car?    Nah

70. Would you rather listen to Luke Bryan or Lil Wayne?    Who?

71. Blackberry, Anroid, or iPhone?    Android!

72. When’s the last time you had pizza from Pizza Hut?    

Fuck if I know lmao73. Do you like diet soda?    

Ew no74. What color are the walls in your room?    

Varying shades of purple

75. Are you 16 or older?    Yep!

76. Do you watch Pretty Little Liars?    Nope!

77. Do you have a job?    

Double nope!  78. What are your initials?    

Identification.79. Did you ever have braces?    

Got ‘em right now haha80. Are you from the south?    

I COME FROM A LAND DOWN UNDER so technically yeah

81. What does your last status on facebook say?    “How does a worried Hispanic person count to three?Uno, dos, stress.”

82. Do you still talk to the first person you ever kissed?    Lol no I don't even know if he's alive

83. Are you closer to your mom or your dad?    

Mum :)84. Have you ever done cheerleading or gymnastics?    

I did gymnastics in kindergarten!

I hated it.85. What’s the last movie you saw in theaters?    

Probably Moana?86. Do you smoke?   

Nah 87. Would you rather wear heels or flip flops?    

THONGS M888. Is your phone touch screen?    

Yes.89. Do you normally wear your hair straight or curly?    

My hair is straight than I am most of the time.90. Have you ever snuck out of your house?    Haha no.91. Would you rather swim in a river, lake, or pool?

Pool   92. Have you ever made out in a car?    Nope

93. …Had sex in a car?    Double nope

94. Are you single or in a relationship?    Single!

95. What were you doing last night at midnight?    Sleeping like a baby

96. When’s the last time you saw fireworks?  

In person? A few years, now.  

97. Do you like the camera on your phone?   Yes. because i have a samsung galaxy s7 now. My s3 had the picture quality of a potato.

98. Have you ever had a friend with benefits?    Nope.

99. Have you ever passed out from drinking?    THREE MORE MONTHS. But no not yet

100. Are you friends with people on facebook that you actually hate?    Uh theres one person that i’ve been holding a grudge against for fucking ever but other than that no?

101. Have you ever had a pregnancy scare? … look bayer and bayer would be getting sued if i was pregnant.

102. Name your favorite Kesha song:    C’mon

103. Do you have any tan lines right now?

Nah its winter so im all long shirts and knee socks rn   104. Would you ever wear cowboy boots with shorts? 

Idk maybe