#it's one of the hardest forms of singing

[finemealprompt]

DP x DC Prompt #68

Barbara has found love in a lot of things, but one thing she has kept to herself is her love of the opera. She knows the rest of the bats find it boring, she’s seen them fall asleep at performances before. Even Bruce! So no, she doesn’t tell them she loves opera. She doesn’t even tell them her love to perform opera. 

Yet, her coworker, Danny, keeps encouraging her to come to her performances. Telling her they’d love and support it. She’s not so sure about it, though.

[demonpiratehuntress]

mistletoe

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Law x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader

summary - jumping on the mistletoe bandwagon, their reactions to finding themselves under the mistletoe with you

warnings - none

a/n: Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it! I don't but I wanted to wish everyone else :)

ZORO

You would be lying if you said you didn't plan all week mostly trying to get Zoro under mistletoe with you. Coming up with excuses to get him in a doorway seemed near impossible, but after a very long few days of thinking, you had your plan set.

"Zorooooooo~"

The swordsman groaned, knowing exactly what that sing-song call meant for him. It could only spell mischief, and he popped open an eye to peer at you curiously.

"What do you want, woman?" He grumbled.

You pouted, "Come onnnnn, lighten up! It's Christmas!" You tugged on his arm. "Pleaseeee?"

He sighed loudly, "Fine."

He let you pull him up and drag him along, silently cursing his willingness to go along with whatever silly endeavor you chose for each day. He couldn't help it, as much as he wanted to just sleep, he loved you enough to participate in your silly antics.

When you suddenly stopped and pointed upwards, Zoro was confused. Then he looked up, and his eyes found some mistletoe hanging from the top of the doorframe.

"Seriously?" He looked back at you, frowning.

You rolled your eyes, "Fine, I'll go get Sanji."

That was enough to make him growl and grab your waist, tugging you forward so you were against his chest. You giggled innocently and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"You're so annoying," he complained, but kissed you anyway.

He kissed you slowly and deeply, pouring as much love as he could into it. Usually these kisses were brief, but he drew it out and kissed you for longer than you expected, effectively knocking the wind out of you when you pulled away.

"Now can I nap in peace?"

ACE

This man right here is perhaps the only one in this list that does not need to be dragged under it. He is the one carrying it around, putting it over two people's heads randomly and then running off giggling when they yell and chase him. But he will also put it over your head and his, although it took him a few tries.

"(Nameeeee)! Look what I got!"

Your energetic boyfriend bounded into the room you were busy in, holding something behind his back. He pouted when you didn't even look up, before repeatedly tapping your arm to get your attention.

"(Name), (Name), (Name)..."

He's like a little kid. So eventually you give in and look at him, only to see him raise something and hold it above yours and his heads. You blush madly upon seeing what it was, feeling butterflies form in the pit of your stomach. The fiery commander smiled innocently, and you couldn't help but giggle as you pulled away from your work to indulge him, wrapping your arms around his bare waist.

"Well, look what we have here," you smirked.

"I know, what a coincidence," he shot you a goofy grin, leaning in.

"I'm not complaining."

You crashed your lips against his, kissing him fiercely and hotly. He reciprocated immediately, making sure to keep the mistletoe hanging above as he cupped your cheek in his free hand, smiling against your lips. He loved kisses like these, energetic and passionate but also loving and adoring.

"That was by far the best response I've gotten to hanging this over people's heads."

"Oh my god, Ace!" you giggled, realising why everyone had been out for Ace's blood today. You shook your head at his antics, pecking his lips one more time before going back to work.

LAW

The complete opposite of Ace, Law is the hardest to get under the mistletoe. He is always cooped up in his room, working, and barely leaves. So you have to do some really deep thinking and planning to get this stubborn man to kiss you under the mistletoe.

Of course, he has to leave his room for meals, so you decide to strike at breakfast on Christmas.

You failed to account for the fact that Law was the most observant person to ever exist, and that he would easily spot the mistletoe you not-so-secretly hid above his doorway. He did find it, and called you first - knowing full well this was one of your shenanigans.

"(Name)-ya, what's that?"

You swallowed nervously and looked up, letting out a nervous chuckle, "I have no idea how that got there."

"Uh huh," he hummed, stepping closer to you. "Look me in the eye and say that again."

You couldn't. And now you were getting too nervous to even just grab him and kiss him, but little did you know that was part of his plan. He was flipping the switch, turning the tables on you and making it seem as if it was his idea.

"Well, you know the rule," he said casually, leaning closer to you. "I'm waiting."

Your face turned a dark shade of red at that, and you fidgeted with your shirt anxiously before leaning in to meet him halfway, letting your lips touch his gently. He was the one who deepened it, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around your waist.

Law, when he wanted to be, could be just as mischievous, if not more.

SANJI

I take it back, Sanji is the easiest to get under the mistletoe. In fact, he is the one planting the mistletoe everywhere in hopes of getting to snag a kiss from you at one point. Little did he expect, his plan would backfire quite miserably. Because instead of walking into the kitchen with you, you got stuck in the doorway with Usopp under the mistletoe, because Usopp had tried to get out the same time you tried to go in.

"YOU LONG-NOSED SNAKE-"

Sanji was fuming, throwing a tantrum as you just giggled and pecked the sniper's cheek, earning an embarrassed blush from him as he scuttled off.

"Babe-"

"Next one is mine, I swear!"

That did not happen. You just happened to be walking out of the aquarium when Zoro walked in, and Sanji almost fainted when the two of you landed under the mistletoe.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

"Rules are rules, twirly brows," Zoro smirked, enjoying this solely because it irritated the hell out of Sanji. As the blonde fumed and threw another tantrum, you gave Zoro a quick peck on the cheek as well before moving on.

Only after you had given Luffy, Brook, Franky and Chopper cheek kisses as well did Sanji FINALLY get you under the mistletoe, but by then he was in tears. Crying over how badly he'd planned this.

"Come here you," you laughed and pulled him close by the collars of his shirt, smashing your lips against his. You kissed him fervently, showing him that you'd been waiting for this kiss the most. He eventually relaxed and kissed you back just as passionately, locking his arms around your waist.

"About damn time."

KAKU

Oh, boy. The ratio of boys to girls in the CP9 team is horrible. There are two women, compared to six men. That's excluding Spandam, because you never included him in these things. But still, it was quite difficult for Kaku to surprise you with mistletoe because of the rare chance of getting you to walk where he placed it without you figuring it out.

Oh well.

So, begrudgingly, Khalifa agreed to help him out. Knowing it wouldn't be suspicious if she led you through a specific doorway, you followed her easily without questioning it.

That is, until she stopped outside the doorway and you entered at the same time as Kaku was trying to leave. The CP9 swordsman blushed, thankful that this worked, and shyly gestured up towards the mistletoe. Your eyes widened, before your own blush formed on your cheeks.

He is so so shy, you are the one who actually makes the move. He may have planted the mistletoe, but he is too nervous and flustered to actually lean in and kiss you, so you have to grab him by the zipper of his jacket and tug him down to meet you at eye-level.

"It's cute that you planned it out," you smiled innocently, knowing about it since Khalifa was not great at hiding what her task was.

"How did you-" He looked at Khalifa, who just shrugged and turned away. He blushed harder, "I didn't want to get anyone else under here by accident."

His admission made you giggle, "Fair enough."

Then you leaned in and kissed him slowly and deeply, angling your face away from his long nose after multiple experiences of your kisses being ruined by your eye being poked. His arms slipped around your waist and he lifted you up slightly, since he was much taller, and kissed you even deeper than you had kissed him.

"Get a room!" Jabra yelled, which you both ignored.

LUFFY

At least everyone else on this list actually knows what mistletoe is. Poor Luffy was so confused by the concept when Nami brought it up a few days before, and even explaining it to him didn't help. Unfortunately, on the day of Christmas, before anyone could actually show him what it was, Luffy had already eaten like three of the four plants that were strung up randomly around the ship.

"Luffy!" Nami scolded, "They're not food!"

Sanji had set them up, not knowing your dear captain would be oblivious enough to consume them, though he should have known better. Fortunately, since the cook was desperately trying to get either Robin or Nami to kiss him, he had spares.

"It's mistletoe, Luffy," you giggled as you took his hand and guided him to where Sanji had hung a surprise one for you and Luffy.

"What does it do?" He blinked, so very cutely confused.

"Well," you began, stopping under the doorway with the mistletoe, "You have to kiss the person you end up under the mistletoe with." As you said it, you blushed hard.

"But why?" Luffy asked. "Can't I just kiss you anyway?"

You laughed at that, blushing more, "You can, but it's more like...a cute tradition."

"Oh," he nodded, looking like he understood. He did not.

"Luffy," you sighed, pointing up at the plant.

He looked up, got excited and reached for it...only to have you slap his hand away.

"Don't eat it!"

Before he could respond, you tugged him against you by his waistcoat and kissed him deeply, successfully distracting him from his mission to apparently consume all the mistletoe you owned. He wrapped his arms around you excitedly and kissed you messily, but you didn't mind because he was just very eager.

"I get it now!"

USOPP

Like Kaku, Usopp is an extremely shy, flustered boy. He is so nervous all the time and when Robin off-handedly mentions mistletoe a day before Christmas, Usopp almost faints. He has kissed you before, but the idea of setting it up and leading you to it had his knees knocking together, his legs becoming two wavy lines.

"Usopp!" You called excitedly, rushing to find your boyfriend. While he was so nervous about the mistletoe, you had no such qualms and even blatantly waved it around over your head. "Look what I found!"

When you reached him, you smiled innocently as you held the little plant over your heads, grabbing his hand to pull him close.

"And what exactly do you have there?" He asked, feigning confusion.

You raised an eyebrow, then smirked, "Are you getting shy on me again? How cute." You kissed his cheek, making him protest.

"Is that my kiss?! That is so unfair, how can you just-"

You cut him off by actually kissing him, effectively shutting him up and drowning out his complaints. You kissed him deeply, much more passionately than your usual kisses and giggled when his legs almost gave out from under him.

"I-I was gonna do that..."

"Uh huh."

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Aemond X Velaryon!Reader: An olive branch

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, talks of marriage, fluff, no use of y/n, female reader, incest ( because its hotd so of course), Velaryon reader, not proofread.

Word count: 2K

You watch Aemond move, his sword singing gracefully as he practices his fight moves. You hear Helaena  hum to the twins causing you to turn to face her. A small smile appears on your lips as you watch the children play. Heleana looks up at you suddenly, her eyes moving over your face before smiling at you.

“What is it?”

“I’m excited.”

“Whatever about?”

“The wedding of course.”

You didn’t know about any wedding that was to take place soon. You eyed Helaena ’s handmaidens curiously seeing the way they looked around with odd expressions. You’d been raised alongside Heleana's all your life and unlike your brothers you had developed a friendship with your aunt. People often judged her words, believing she was mad, but you always tried your best to understand her. Even so there were moments where you simply couldn’t make out what she was talking about.

“I think you're confused, your grace. I don’t think there are any weddings to be celebrated soon.”

“Not yet but there will be.”

Before you could ask what she meant Aegon burst through the doors. You rose for your seat excusing yourself from the room. You exited the doors not realizing someone was in front of you until you collided with them. Your body stumbled backwards losing its balance but before you could fall a hand wrapped around your waist, holding you upright. Your eyes found Aemonds, mouth opening slightly as his gaze penetrated you.

“Sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

You could feel the heat of Aemond’s palm on your waist, causing your cheeks to heat up. You’d always had a soft spot for Aemond who, unlike his brother, had always shown you kindness. Well, as much kindness as he could give to the bastard daughter of his sister. Your family was complicated but you always tried your hardest to get along with everyone. You did it for your mothers sake, knowing  she had had to deal with a lot during her life. There was one small issue however. A secret you’ve kept hidden for years. Over the years you’d developed a somewhat overbearing desire for Aemond. You had thought it was merely because you'd become older and your body longed for pleasure but you realize you only ever felt flushed around the older Targaryen.

Your gaze would linger on Aemonds frame whenever he was in the room, your eyes falling on his long hair and strong features. You knew you would have to marry one day, your brothers had already been promised to their future wives but your mother had yet to suggest a husband for you. As the tensions rose in the household you couldn’t help but think that perhaps an alliance was overdue. And what better way to secure an alliance than through marriage? But you never brought it up, keeping your thoughts concealed form everyone. 

Well, almost everyone.

Helena knew of your thoughts. She was the only one you had confided in. You’d done so because you felt like you could trust her and because you needed to get the idea off your mind before it consumed you entirely. You never expected her to tell anyone and even if she did you assumed they wouldn’t believe you. 

You’d been wrong.

Aemond stared at you, his touch lingering on your body even after it was clear you had regained your balance. He often caught you glancing in his direction but he never thought much off it. He’d been teased his entire life and he knew his eye made people curious so he always assumed you were looking at him in judgment. It was only when Heleana told him of what you’d said to her that he realized he’d been completely wrong. You weren’t looking at him in disgust but rather in a longing manner. He couldn't seem to get the thought out of his head. You’d grown to be a beautiful woman and you were strong like him. In a lot of ways you two would make a wonderful match.  But he knew if he wanted this to work the way you’d thought he’d have to move fast. 

“Aemond.”

Your voice called him back to reality, lips pursing as he finally released your body. He gave you a small smile, his lips becoming a thin line as he did. He was always so shy looking when he was around you. It was a lot different from how he looked when he was training. You moved your hands over your dress, trying to straighten out the fabric. 

“Is that new?”

“Oh. Yes it is. I thought it’d be nice to wear something different for dinner. Does it please you?”

Aemonds brows furrowed at your questions. Why did you care about what he thought of your clothes? But then he caught sight of the way you looked at him. Like a small girl waiting for approval. He couldn’t help but smile at your delicate nature.

“It's beautiful. Just as you are.”

Aegon's voice rang through the halls as he called out for his brother. Aemond bowed his head to you slightly before making his way towards the door you stepped out of a couple of moments prior. Before entering he turned to look at you once more.

“See you at dinner.”

You nodded at him, watching as he entered the room before you began rushing down the hall. You walked fast through the castle, desperately trying to get to your chambers. You suddenly felt the need for a bath. 

Hours later you make your way down to the dining room, your dress trailing behind you. You walked into the room being greeted by the sight of your family. Your mother smiled at you as you made your way towards your seat. She placed a kiss on your head, her hand moving to grasp yours beneath the table. You leaned into your mothers caresses, closing your eyes.

Aemond observed the exchange from the other side of the table, a bitterness filling him. Rhaenyra was always gentle with her children, showering them with love at every opportunity. Aemond couldn’t help but feel jealous. The feeling faded a bit when he remembered what he had planned for tonight. If everything went well soon it would be him who held onto your hand. 

The dinner went on as it usually did, an eerie feeling surrounding the table you feasted on. That was how it always was with your family, one never knew when a fight might break out. Music filled the room causing your brother to rise from his seat. You watched Jace make his way to your mother, offering her his hand. She took it, allowing him to guide her into a dance. Heleana eyed Aegon, awaiting him to invite her to dance as well but he was far too focused on the ale in his cup to notice. You gave Heleana a sympathetic look.

“May I have this dance?”

You’d been so focused in observing the others that you hadn’t noticed Aemond make his way over to you. He stood beside you, his hand outstretched in invitation. You looked up at him in surprise for a moment before getting up from your seat and taking his hand. He led you to where your mother and brother were. You caught the way your mother gazed at Aemond curiously. But soon enough the only thing you could see was Aemond. He took the lead, guiding you through the dance effortlessly. His movements were perfect and precise while yours were fluid and natural. A perfect contrast to each other. Once you were finished Aemond turned to face the table, his hand grasping yours. 

“I have an announcement to make.”

The older members of the family eyed Aemond, trying to figure out what he was about to do. You prayed he was not about to do something stupid. You couldn’t handle a fight tonight. To your surprise, and to everyone else's, Aemond turned to look at your mother. 

“I would like your daughter's hand in marriage.”

Alicent lifted off her chair slightly, looking at her son with wide eyes. That was the moment that it became clear to you that Aemond had decided this by himself, he had not been guided to take action. He was doing this because he wanted to. Your mother hesitated for a moment before her eyes moved to look at your face. You knew what marrying Aemond would mean. You knew the consequences and you knew the duties you would have to perform but all you could think about at the moment was the feeling of his hand in yours. You gave your mother a small nod. 

“She accepts your offer.”

Heleana let out a delighted squeal, rising from her seat to make her way over to you. She pulled you into an embrace which you happily returned. 

“I told you it would happen.”

She had in fact warned you but you would have never guessed this was what she meant. Alicent rose from her chair raising her glass to you and Aemond.

“To the happy couple. May your union symbolize the bond of our houses.”

“Now and forevermore.”

Aliecent turned to look at your mother and you could swear you saw them share a small smile.

Later that night you were getting ready for bed when there was a knock on your door. You expected it to be your guard so you simply yelled out.

“You may enter.”

But instead of being greeted with the face of your guard you found yourself gazing up at Aemond. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine. I just wished to see my wife.”

It felt odd to hear him call you that.

“I’m still not your wife. We have not been married yet.”

“But we will be. Might as well begin referring to you as such.”

“Well then husband, what makes you come to my room at such an hour. You should be sleeping.”

Aemond walked around your room, taking it in. You watched him move around until he was closer to you. 

“I tried but sleep seems to be avoiding me. I couldn’t get these thoughts out of my head.”

“What thoughts?”

He gazed at you, his hand moving to rest on your cheek. 

“I wish to taste you.”

You let out a soft gasp at Aemonds words, his piercing gaze making you flush.

“We cannot.”

“Why not?”

“We aren’t married yet. It’s a sin.”

“I don’t care. The gods will understand.”

His hands moved over your nightgown, fingers grazing the skin beneath it. You leaned onto the bed, taking a seat. Your head spun at the feeling of Aemond’s skin on yours and even though you knew this was wrong you couldn’t get yourself to stop him. Aemond moved to sit on his knees before you, his hand moving to inch up your dress. He placed a kiss to your shin making you sigh. His hands moved over you gently revealing more and more of your skin to him. 

“Aemond i-oh gods- i need you to-”

“Shh, I know.”

He looked at your bare pussy, observing the way it glistened. He leaned his head forward, his tongue darting out to taste you. A moan ripped out of your lips at the feeling of his tongue on your folds. You gripped onto the sheets, breathing heavily as Aemonds tongue continued to move against you.  He groaned into you, lapping at your cunt in desperation. He hadn’t expected for you to feel this good. Your hand found his head, unconsciously pushing him closer to you. 

“Ah Aemond i’m close.”

Aemond sucked on your clit, his fingers moving to help him make you reach your orgasm. It didn’t take long before your body was launching forwards, a cry of Aemonds name on your lips as you came.  Aemond rested his head on your thigh, his eyes moving over the outline of your nipples through your nightgown as you breathed. 

“Satisfied husband?”

“For now.”

Aemond rose from the ground, moving to place a gentle kiss to your temple. You closed your eyes allowing him to caress you. And just as he had entered your chambers he exited them, leaving you to think of what was to come on your wedding night. Maybe this marriage would be more fruitful than you’d initially anticipated.

[owlcomics101]

Werewolf task force 141 x human!reader Head cannons

Warnings: Some gore, Reader’s gender is neutral, sfw (I am a minor), wolf cuddles, some language

Context: You are the only human on the task force 141. Lasswell put you on the team to balance out with all the bitting and snarling. Your practically their ‘babysitter’

Soap: Trying to relax? Get a good night’s sleep? NOPE! Not with Soap around! Soap will drag your ass out of bed either very early in the morning or late at night to get you to go running in the woods with him. He loves racing you, chasing after you, or you trying to chase after him. His werewolf form is very playful with you and sees you as his playmate and will not leave you alone for the WHOLE night. Hes always gentle with you when he plays with you and if he ever accidentally hurts you in anyway he will always lick you to death as his wolf’s way of apologizing. Though, this does leave you completely covered in wolf slobber by the end of the night. Gross. Enjoy having a clingy Scottish wolf slobbering all over ya

Ghost: Despite’s Ghost’s cold and aggressive demeanor towards you in his human form, his wolf form acts other wise. He’s not as clingy as Soap but he does make a point to follow you around base. He lets you do whatever you want throughout the night as long as you’re under his cared supervision. He hunts for you and even looks very smug and proud of himself with blood dripping from his jaws. You never really eat what he hunts for you or you at least cook it. When he watches you eat what he hunts for you can see his tail wag in the corner of your eyes. Clearly, happy you appreciate what he does for you and he’s even more happy when you share with him, but he doesn’t let you share with anyone else. Especially Soap. He’ll kill him.

Gaz:

Gaz loves to sing to you throughout the night in his werewolf form. Howling his lungs out and waking up the whole Damm barracks as he expresses his love and devotion to you. The only way to get him to shut up is to howl with him. Or at least try to. Sometimes the others might join in on the howl but Gaz always tries his hardest to be the loudest so you’ll only pay attention to his ‘beautiful’ singing. Other than that he is the most chill out of all of them. He’ll let you sleep during the night after you hear his lovely singing and won’t drag you out of bed unlike the others. Just dont mention the word ‘Treats’ or ‘walkies’. He’ll snuggle up next to you and fight Ghost and Soap for the spot next to you. He loves a nice ear scratch from you and chews on his hat which is alway torn in the morning and he has to buy a new one.

Price: Price is a patient wolf, he lets the others have their fun with you and then it’s his turn. His wolf form sees you as his pup and his alone. He’ll carry you around base by the ‘scruff’ or the back of your uniform. He doesn’t let you walk on your own. Price also hunts for you as well but he does not let the others eat until you have eaten first. He makes a point to give you ‘baths’ and by bath it means getting covered in old dog slobber. Sorry, you ain’t escaping it no matter how many times your shower. When you go to sleep he sleeps on top or you to keep you hidden under his fur, even if it’s suffocating to you. If you try to leave he will snap and snarl at you. Yeah. Your not escaping Price when he’s in ‘daddy wolf’ mode.

[azrielbrainrot]

When Prayers Fall on Deaf Ears

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Description: For the first time in his life, Azriel is not ready to accept death.

Warnings: Death, All Hurt No Comfort

Word Count: 1500

Notes: I'm so sorry. I didn't proofread this so I'm sorry for that too.

How could the Mother be so cruel?

After centuries of walking this world alone, of throwing himself at dangerous missions and surviving multiple wars, how come when he finally found something worth living for, his life gets taken away?

Azriel can hear you anguish cries for help, screaming at Rhys to get a healer, can hear your reassurances that he's going to be okay, but the truth is he can barely feel your hands on him, can barely feel his body at all. He's taken several falls like this, but this pain is different. He knows better than to check, knowing he wouldn't be able to bear the sight, - probably wouldn't even be able to complete the movement on his own - but he knows his left wing was mostly ripped off, his arm and leg might be in similar ruined states. The realization that he'll never be able to take to the skies makes him close his eyes for a second, tears gathering in them.

Everything happened so quickly, he had barely reacted in time, sending up a shield around him at the same time Cassian did. He doesn't know what kind of magic that was, had never seen anything like it before, but he knows if it hadn't been for the shield, there wouldn't be any piece of his body left, and his brother would have met the same fate.

His shadows were completely silent, uncharacteristically so, unmoving as they lay under his body, but, even if they weren't singing to him, Azriel could feel them mourning, could feel them disconnect, no longer following his command. They had been with him for most of his life, and he hopes they know how grateful he is for them, for the way they stayed by his side, protecting him and those around him, and they remain until his last breath escapes his body. He truly couldn't have made it this long without them - they were part of his identity.

It's your frantic calls of his name that has him opening his eyes again, blinking a couple of times to try and focus on your beautiful face. This is probably the last time he'll be able to see it so he should enjoy it as much as possible. You send him a relieved look when you notice him watching your face, leaning closer until he can faintly feel your breath on his skin. “Rhys went to get Thesan, alright? You're going to be okay, Az,” you promise, struggling to keep your voice from failing while trying your hardest to choke back your tears, and he struggles to focus on the words, the sound reaching his ears as if he was under water.

He won't be okay, you both know that. No matter how good a healer is, there are some things that can't be helped. Sometimes they forget given their long lifetimes, but fae are still mortals. Everyone around him seems to have come to the same conclusion, but they're all unwilling to accept it, stubborn as they are. Gods, he's going to miss them so much. Azriel almost wants to tell you to call Rhys back, so he can see his brother one last time. No healer is going to be able to fix this anyway, not even Thesan. He's not sure if he can form the words though, even breathing is becoming too much to bear.

Trying his best to pay attention, Azriel tries to focus on his family - the people who have made his life worth living. He can hear the three Archeron sisters crying somewhere at his side, holding onto each other. They've all lost so much in their short lives, Azriel hates that he's going to add to their suffering. After a particularly loud sob escapes Feyre, he realizes his mental shields are probably down, making her privy to his thoughts, but he can't bring himself to care, not anymore.

Amren is studying his body a few steps behind you, staring at him with a conflicted look in her eyes, arms wrapped around herself. This might be the first time she sees someone she cares about die right before her eyes, as she watches on, unable to do a thing about it. Right next to her stands Mor, an uncharacteristically blank look on her face as she watches one of her bestfriends take his last breaths, shock seems to have taken hold of her. Emerie stands behind her, ready to comfort her. He couldn't see Cassian but he feels him kneeling right next to his head, can hear his choked breaths as he desperately tries to keep his tears from coming, can feel the familiar thrum of his power. He had also been injured, but it seems that Azriel had taken the worst of it, his brother would be alright.

And you. He doesn't even want to imagine how much pain he's going to bring you. You, who's trying so hard to be strong for him, to keep on a brave face and make him feel better in his last moments, even though you probably want nothing more than to curse the Mother and any deity responsible for this. If it had been the other way around, he's not so sure he would survive it, or that he would want to, but he knows you're more resilient than him, so much stronger, always have been.

None of you deserve this. To have your family ripped away from you like this. And he doesn't either, after suffering through so much, he knows he deserved a few more good years with you and his family by his side.

“I don't want to die,” the words escape him in a whisper before he has the chance to keep them down. The sobs that escape both you and Cassian almost make him want to take the words back, knowing he's going to give you guys enough pain as it is. Your hands raise to hold his face, bringing a smile to his lips even at a time like this.

He was almost surprised to see that he meant it. Azriel had never been afraid of death, would gladly do it to save the ones he loves, as he is doing now, but that had always been easier when he felt like he had nothing to lose. Aside from his friends and his mother - who he knows should be more than enough reason - Azriel had never truly felt fulfilled or content with his life. Throwing it all away would have been easier then, but now he had you.

He's been waiting for a love that would give his life purpose ever since he can remember, as pathetic as that may sound, and now that he finally met you, he's going to die without ever getting the chance to give you the ring he keeps stored on his nightstand. He had been waiting for the right time to give it to you, it seems like fate had other plans for him. He can only imagine what you will feel when you find the silver ring engraved with both of your initials.

A sudden pressure in the air tells Azriel his brother returned with Thesan. He feels a strange sort of relief at this, not because he thinks the healer can still help him, but because he didn't want to go without knowing Rhys was here as well. His heart seems to echo this sentiment, as he can hear it slow down with each painful breath he takes into his lungs.

Azriel uses his remaining strength to hold up his hand, trying to feel your skin against his rough palm one more time. He can't quite raise his arm high enough, the blood loss catching up to him, but you hold his hand in yours and hold it up to your cheek. You always knew what to do, what he was thinking.

“I love you,” he struggles out.

Your tears are flowing down your cheeks freely as you repeat the words back to him, having no choice but to resign yourself to your cruel fate. Rhys and Mor kneel at your side, the latter resting a hand on your shoulder, trying to give you as much comfort as she can, while Rhys stares at his brother, the normally striking purple not visible behind his tears.

As scared as he was, he could admit this wasn't so bad, dying surrounded by his family, surrounded by so much love. He feels comfort that the last thing he felt before everything turned cold was the warmth of your body against him. Enough so that it almost catches him by surprise, barely registering his shadows moving from his body to yours, covering your body the same way they've been covering him all these years, barely feels his arm drop from your face, his strength completely leaving his body until he can't hear anything, can't see anything as the world goes black, and the last thing he feels is your head falling on his chest as a wail of his name escapes you.

[southerngothicchic]

Just a quick, little "wet Steve" thought 🥴

You're standing at the bathroom sink, having just finished brushing your teeth. You smile as you listen to your boyfriend sing along to the song that's playing on the nearby radio. The water from the shower almost muffles his voice, but you can still hear him, much to your delight.

'Who knew Steve Harrington could sing?' You wonder to yourself as you glance up to the mirror and see him emerging from the shower.

You watch as he grabs a towel and quickly wraps it around his waist. Your eyes travel his reflection, fixating on the water dripping from the ends of his hair to the little droplets covering his chest. You salivate at the thought of pressing your tongue to his skin and licking him all over.

He's not oblivious to how you're staring at him, as a smirk forms on his lips. He recalls how he's seen that look in your eyes before - at his post graduation pool party. That was the night he finally kissed you, and you've been together ever since.

He saunters over to you while you turn to face him. He slips his large, wet hands under your sleep shirt, briefly gripping your hips before lifting you up and sitting you on the edge of the sink. You reflexively drape your arms around his neck as he leans in close.

"Something you wanna say, angel?" He asks, nuzzling his nose against yours.

"Nothing that you haven't already heard before," you reply, with a smile, reaching up to run your fingers through his damp hair.

"I still wanna hear it," he presses, as his lips brush your cheek. "Are you gonna tell me or am I gonna have to use my powers of persuasion?" He grins, before trailing kisses across your cheek, to your jawline.

You softly sigh as you feel his teeth nip at your skin. You know he'll leave new hickies to replace the already faded ones. You fight the urge to close your eyes as your gaze settles on his still glistening neck. You pull him even closer, earning a low groan from him. Turning your head slightly, you press your tongue to his skin, collecting tiny beads of water as you lick upwards.

He shudders and moans into your neck. You then press a couple wet kisses to every freckle you can before tasting his skin on your tongue again.

"Fuck, dont stop..." he breathes, resting his forehead against your clothed shoulder.

With a smirk of your own, you lick and kiss your way up to his ear, softly nibbling on his earlobe as he whimpers so prettily. Your fingers curl in his hair that falls around the nape of his neck, before gently tugging his head back. He gasps, his mouth hanging open when you lick the column of his throat.

His brain short circuits as he's straining against the towel, possibly the hardest he's ever been in his life. He thinks if he doesn't fuck you soon, he'll die.

"God, you're so fucking hot..." he pants, as your eyes meet his.

"So are you, Stevie," you smile, releasing your hold on his hair.

His lips are instantly on yours, as he kisses you roughly. His towel then drops to the floor, followed by your shirt. He pushes your panties to the side before eagerly thrusting into you. You wrap yourself around him, as much as you can, as he fucks you hard and fast.

Afterwards, he leans his now sweaty forehead to yours, as you each try to catch your breath.

"So, do you still have something you wanna tell me, angel?" He quietly asks, pulling away to look into your eyes.

"Yeah," you smile. "I love you."

[frenchkisstheabyss]

🖤 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖒𝖆𝖓 🖤

🖤 Pairing: ex boyfriend!choi san x chubby!fem!reader (mingi's spoken about but doesn't appear)

🖤 Genre: angst/fluff/smut

🖤 Summary: You make a living stepping on men's necks, literally and metaphorically speaking. Men spend every dime they have for the chance to be your lapdog. You are their weakness. Your dirty little secret? You have a weakness of your own, one you've tried your hardest to leave in the past, but you've managed to make him jealous and, oh, I think he's knocking on your door right now.

🖤 Word Count: 2.3k-ish

🖤 Warnings: reader works as a dom so she does qualify as a ✨sex worker✨ & it's treated as a positive cause slay queen, jealous /possessive San, unprotected sex, fingering, nibbling, scratching, reader for sure has a lil praise kink, this man does not pull out, San's giving dom vibes & reader's quite subby for him, pet names (baby, my girl, good girl) & that's all darlings

🖤 A/N: My chubby girl smut agenda continues with this fic as it will with all others and the best part is, no one can stop me. Mwahahahaha. No, but really, I hope you lovelies enjoy reading it.

Also a big thanks to @anyamaris for test reading everything my brain throws out all of the time. Love of my life, truly.

Your night routine is sacred. Never more so than on nights like tonight when you take extra steps to make it particularly romantic for yourself. You treat yourself like a lover, running a nice warm bubble bath and preparing your favorite fruits to snack on while you soak in it. You don’t rush to cover your body afterward, instead taking the time to find pleasure in every stretch mark and every curve as you massage rich tropical oils into your skin. 

The rain is your companion, singing to you in the form of raindrops patting at your window. Candles burn on your windowsill, tiny lanterns reflecting shadows in the darkness of this place you call home. Crawling into your bed, you slip beneath your freshly washed sheets and scroll through your phone to find the right song. It doesn’t take long to find it. You hit “play” and close your eyes, ready to be swept away by the sweet notes emanating from your phone. 

This is serenity. This is heaven. This is—

“What the actual fuck?” you shout, shaken by an unexpected knock at your door. The knocking is impatient, the agitation of the person on the other end undeniable. You jump from your bed, the sheet still clinging to your figure, and cautiously approach the door. You specifically didn’t schedule any sessions for tonight and your clients know better than to pop up unannounced. 

“Whoever you are, go away! I have a gun!” You do. You have to. In your line of business being able to protect yourself is a necessity. It’d be silly not to have one and if ever there were an example why, this has to be it. The knocking stops. A brief moment of silence passes and then—

“You have a gun?” San asks, more confused than he is threatened. You don’t notice until now that you’ve been holding your breath this entire time but at the sound of his voice, you can miraculously breathe again. “San? What are you doing here?” you frown, cracking the door enough to get a good look at your ex.

The look is, in fact, good. Better than good, it’s wonderful. For all of this mysterious frustration he seems to be carrying, he still manages to be the most handsome thing you can imagine finding in your hallway near midnight. 

San pushes past you, marching into your cozy studio apartment as if it were his own. “We need to talk. Now.” You roll your eyes, holding back laughter as you close the door behind him. “Someone’s sassy tonight” you tease, watching as he removes his wet boots and coat. He places them exactly where they’re meant to go.

You smile to yourself, finding it sweet that he still remembers how things go after nearly a year apart. “Don’t patronize me.” “I’m not patronizing you,” you say, approaching him with a hand outstretched to stroke his cheek, “Sannie—” 

San takes a step back, the darkness in his eyes intensified by your attempt at affection. “And don’t call me that!” “Lower your voice! This is my home. You can respect me in it or get out.” Seeing you upset cools him down a bit. Enough to question the emotions that led him to drive over here to begin with.

He shouldn’t be here. He has no right to confront you. To care what you do or who you do it with. But it’s been eating him up inside for days, plaguing his every waking thought. Some part of him is still tethered to you and that’s why, against his better judgment, he’s here.

“Are you…” he stutters, the anger bubbling up once more at the thought of what he’s about to ask, “How long has Mingi been coming to you?” “Ah,” you gasp, fully realizing the awkwardness of the situation. Dodging eye contact, you head for the kitchen, busying yourself with the tea kettle. “You want some tea? We should have tea.”

Raking his fingers through delicate strands of pitch black hair, he approaches the kitchen and lets himself, for the most fleeting of moments, enjoy seeing you like this again. He’s missed you making him tea late at night. This would be everything he ever wanted under any other circumstance than this. “I don’t want tea. I want you to answer my question. How long?”

“A few weeks” you sigh, abandoning the kettle on the counter, “We ran into each other at the club one night and we started talking then, I mean, I don’t know, it just sorta happened.” In an instant, he’s on you, fingers squeezing your wrists as he presses you against the counter. “Things like this don’t sorta happen!” “Oh, come on, San. I have bills to pay. If I don’t take on clients, who’s gonna pay them? You?” “Haven’t I before?” Something about being reminded of before makes you as breathless as he is. “That was a long time ago.” 

A long time ago but why does it feel like yesterday when he last had your body pressed against every wall in this apartment? So many hours were spent using your fingertips to traverse every exquisite muscle on his body. There are new ones now, you see them flex when he readjusts his grip on you. How good they must feel to touch. God bless the gym.

Shaking yourself free of your lust fueled daze, you break your wrists loose from him. “If that’s all you can go.” Why are you doing this? Why are you so stubborn? You don’t want him to go. Your body—your heart—begs him to stay even if it’s just to argue for the rest of the night. 

“Fine, I’ll leave, but not until you tell me one more thing. Does he touch you? Like I did?” he asks, his expression cold as he tries to contain his jealousy. “Touch me like you did?” you giggle, reaching to stroke his cheek again. This time he doesn’t step away. He lets you touch him, your soft hand warming the cool raindrops on his cheek. A fire ignites in his eyes, not unlike the flames dancing atop the candle wicks. It’s distant, buried somewhere deep, but you see it and it makes you smile.

“I never let anyone touch me like you did” you whisper, “Mingi just wants someone to boss him around. I happen to be good at that. There’s nothing sexual. I could…” San tugs the sheet tightly around your body, gathering the two loose ends at your hip where his knuckles just barely graze the plush of your thigh. You let out a sound that’s almost a moan but not quite. He smirks, bringing his other hand to your side to massage the softness of your love handles. You're so cute when you’re flustered.

“I, uh, I…” you stutter, watching as his lips grow nearer to yours, “I could stop seeing him if you want.” “You’d do that for me?” San asks, teasing your lower lip with his. “I would do anything for you. You know that.” This is what he does to you and this is why you broke things off with him. San’s love brings you to your knees. You fold for him in a millisecond. You’re supposed to have every man in the palm of your hand yet you find yourself, delicate and fragile, nestled in his. 

“Will you do something else for me?” “Like what?” “Kiss me.” And you do. No hesitation. No time for second guesses. Anything for him. A rush hits you, threatening to knock you off of your feet. San only holds you closer, his tongue tangling with yours, indulging in the taste of you. A craving much overdue to be satisfied. 

“Do I still have to leave?” he pants, his voice a low rasp as he kisses his way down your chin. He buries his face in your neck, his kisses growing more passionate with each passing second. You smell good enough to eat and he almost does, nibbling at your neck sharply enough to send chills down your spine. You shake your head, wrapping a leg around his waist to grind against him. The simple act of kissing you has him hard enough that not even the few layers of fabric between you can suppress his need. 

“Fuck, baby” he groans, his eyes nearly rolling back from the rhythm of your hips. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him back up for another kiss. “Don’t leave me, Sannie. Please.” You’re prepared to beg more, as much as he wants you to, but your words turn incoherent at the sensation of his thumb stroking your clit. His other fingers dance dangerously close to your entrance, happily collecting the juices dripping from your core.

You look down to find that the sheet barely clings to your body, except for a small corner stuck between you and the counter. Everything has fallen away leaving you completely exposed. San’s favorite way to have you. “You’re so wet for me. My girl” he coos, easing two fingers deep into you, “Still my girl? Hmm?” You’re trembling, gripping his shirt as you ride his fingers in time with the flicking of his wrist.

Only he could do this. Make you feel this unbelievably good with just his fingers. "Always your girl. Always—ah” you moan into his mouth before he’s kissing his way down your neck again. The way your back is arched makes your breasts sit so deliciously that he has to taste them. San needs to feel the weight of them in his hands as he captures your perked nipples between his lips, circling them with his tongue. 

His mouth is so full of you that every moan that leaves him vibrates through your chest making sure that you never once underestimate the intensity of his longing. Your thighs are soaked, your pussy dripping—pulsing—clenching around his fingers. Your little squeaks and moans are too pretty. Too addictive. San picks up speed, his only mission to make a complete mess of you or to make you make a complete mess of yourself. Either or both. Definitely both. 

“Sannie. You’re gonna make me—fuck, I’m gonna cum!” you cry, feeling the pressure build within you. “Mmm,” he hums, releasing your nipple but not without taking one last lick of your overstimulated bud. You didn’t need to tell him. You never do. He knows when you're close, down to the second, which is why his timing is perfect when he pulls his fingers away leaving you hanging on the edge of oblivion.

You whine at the unexpected loss, your clit twitching and your walls greedy for something to hold onto. San moves out of reach, taking his time to shed his clothing. “Not on my fingers, baby,” he says, flashing that devilishly handsome smile of his, “On me.” He disappears around the corner and you trail behind him like a bright eyed puppy who wants more than anything to be the object of its owner's affection.

San sits on the edge of the bed, admiring the way your body jiggles as you skip over to him. He takes you by the hand, lowering you onto his lap, and the skin to skin contact sends a shot of adrenaline coursing through both of you. “I could just look at you all night. So beautiful” he muses, palms slapping your ass. His fingers dig in, keeping your hips raised enough that the tip of his cock almost presses at your slit.

You drape your arms over his shoulders, kissing him on the bridge of his nose, “You can look at me all you want.” One of San’s hands disappears beneath you, stroking his length as he lowers you down onto him. He stops at the tip, letting your arousal run down his shaft. “All I want because you belong to me?” You bite down on your bottom lip, eager to take him. “Yes,” you mewl and he feeds you another inch. A reward for being his good girl.

“No more Mingi?”

“No more. I swear.” 

Another inch and your heart skips a beat. This is evil. “No more anyone else” he demands, taunting you with one more inch before taking it back, “I’ll take care of you, my sweet girl. Only me.” “Only you” you promise, unintentionally batting your eyelashes in the most innocent way. San grabs your hips, slamming you down onto him, “Good now cum for me.”

Being stretched by him, full of every thick rigid inch of his cock, is intoxicating enough. But the feeling of handing over control, of letting him have you completely, has you buzzing. San bounces you in his lap, kissing you everywhere his lips can access, whispering every praise he’s saved up for you over time.

Precious. Perfect. Never letting go. Love you. My everything. My world. Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Sannie—” you draw a breath in. A flash of heat hits you and you’re lost to pleasure. Your body explodes and implodes. Heavy and weightless all at once. You gush down his length, every inch of him drenched with your juices. San doesn’t stop, not even when your nails dig deep into the skin of his shoulder. He only goes faster and harder, wanting to break you, his precious girl, and put you back together then do it again. 

But his body’s as sensitive as yours and he can’t hold back, spilling into you to the point of overflow. There’s so much warmth and fullness. It’s comforting, soothing you as you gradually float back down. Lying back on the bed, San cradles you in his arms, not wanting to be anywhere else than right here with you.

You rest your head on his chest, feeling his love for you in every breath he takes. How you ever pushed him away you can’t understand but you know, as he softly kisses your forehead, that you never will again.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Medieval Beasts

for your next poem/story (pt. 2)

Lacta - a small animal that lives in the graves of the dead

Martineta - a bird that does not decay when dead

Nightingale - a bird that sings to relieve the tedium as it sits on its nest through the night. At dawn, it sings so enthusiastically that it almost dies. Sometimes nightingales compete with each other with their songs, and the one that loses the competition often dies.

Oriole - a bird that is gold all over, except for some blue on the wings; hangs its nest from the end of branches; from the ground, they appear to float in the air

Paradisi - called bird of paradise because of its celestial beauty; brown and small; the sweetness of its voice can arouse devotion and joy in people; if captured, it will not stop crying until it is freed; rarely found away from the region of the Nile River

Stymphalis - a man-eating bird with a beak of bronze, sharp metallic feathers it can launch at its victims, and poisonous dung; according to the Greek legend of the Labors of Hercules, he destroyed the birds with poisoned arrows

Thamur - a worm with blood that can be used to split the hardest stone, like marble; Solomon discovered this property when he needed to shape marble for an alter without using iron to cut it, which was against Jewish law

Uria - a worm found in pigs; blisters form where it bites because the bitten flesh burns

Yale - a beast with flexible horns that it can move at will; when it fights, it keeps one horn pointed backward, so that if the horn it is fighting with is damaged, it can bring the other to the front. It is the size of a horse, but has the tail of an elephant and the jaws of a boar, and is black. The basilisk is its enemy, and if it finds the yale asleep it stings it between the eyes, causing its eyes to swell until they burst.

Zerahav - a bird that lays its eggs at the bottom of the ocean; then floats on the surface above the eggs where she can watch them, and incubates them from there. When the eggs hatch, she dives to the bottom and brings her chicks to the shore, where she feeds them.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Part 1 ⚜ Medieval Period

[sempersirens]

yes, chef | part four

one | two | three

masterlist

this is their song sorry i don't make the rules (yes i do) summary: eight years have passed since you walked out of joel miller's kitchen, now you have your own restaurant in new york city. you're a household name, respected within your own right - but some ghosts are harder to shake than others. pairing: no-outbreak!au, chef!joel x f!reader content/warnings (spoilers): no outbreak, no use of y/n, alcohol consumption, mention of food, pure angst, arguing, swearing, unspecified age gap, cheating if you squint, joel is a prick who can't regulate his emotions, character death.

Fuckin' useless.

You plan on fuckin' your way to the top there too?

You're useless.

Dawn hadn't quite broken yet.

The rattle of the subway shook you loose from the claws of that familiar memory; the one you had to fight during any moment of stillness.

Ladies swallowed by wool scarves and labourers with chins tucked into the necks of their coats littered the seats of the carriage.

You'd hoped the years would ease the drowning; that distance and time would singe away the nerve endings that pricked up at any hint of a Texan accent.

No such luck. The best you could do was filter out any articles including the words chef and Joel Miller on your social media and news apps.

Your apartment was a cosy one-bed in Williamsburg. Most nights you woke reaching for a phantom warmth that your fingers could never find; nails clawing at your fitted sheet in frustration when all you could grasp was cotton. You were grateful for the omnipresent city traffic that lulled you back to sleep.

The first year was the hardest.

He had become a ghost story, haunting you in each sip of coffee or raised voice in the street. You hated yourself for craving his temper; you would've killed to feel the heat pricking at your skin as he barked orders at you.

You missed the games you had played to stay his little secret. Swallowing his poison, letting it decay your self-worth, just so you could be his.

But it was never enough. You were never enough.

"This is an M-line service. The next station is Broadway-Lafayette."

Rising from your seat, you gently shook your head from side to side.

Enough, you thought, inhaling slowly as the doors parted.

Enough.

Only January in New York could rouse gratitude for the stuffy microclimate of the subway. You'd never get used to that first gust of winter air; the one that reddens the tips of your ears before you even have the chance to acclimatise to street level.

It was different here.

Temperature aside, your days were no longer spent walking on a raised edge, willing yourself to remain balanced. For too long, you'd laid blankets over thorn bushes and convinced yourself it was a good enough place to rest your head.

There was pressure; no kitchen worth its Himalayan salt could function without it. But at every blind corner hands were reaching out to steady you, and you them.

It was nice. You were happy - or content, at the very least.

And even if you weren't happy, you only ever had enough hours in the day to clamour your way through service. You hadn't dealt in anything as trivial as love - if you could even call it that - since you'd turned your back on Texas.

It was a short walk from the subway to the restaurant. The streets were mostly empty this early but rushing had become second nature since moving to the city.

A food critic from the New York Times was due to be dining sometime this week, but last night an "unofficial source" you'd fooled around with in college had texted you a heads-up to be on top form this afternoon.

You'd heeded the warning with a smirk; you were always on top form.

Morning beat on with the usual trepidation of pre-service; menus drafted and re-drafted until you were satisfied; table settings scrutinised under three different levels of lighting; reservations checked, then double-checked, for any notable guests. There was nothing left to perfect by the time you opened your doors for lunch.

Your kitchen was a sanctuary of praise and encouragement; only the best went out to the pass, but you did so without raising your voice at even the most tedious mistakes.

"Sauce has congealed, chef. You need to start again, please." You smiled tightly at your sous-chef who repeated your request with a nod.

Allergy notices and orders merged with the sizzling of fish on the griddle pan in a swift symphony. You bit back a smile at the chaos, content with submerging yourself in the music of the kitchen for the rest of your days.

"Chef, one of the guests would like to speak with you." Tom, your newest front-of-house hire, called from the pass.

"Me? Now?" You replied dumbfounded.

"Yeah, he's just had the prosciutto and spinach scallops. Kind of old, Southern, I think."

A familiar feeling pooled in your gut.

"Thanks, Tom. I'll go see what he wants." Untying your apron, you took a deep breath in.

All eyes were fixed on you. Sabrina, your sous-chef, took your apron from your damp palms and rested a hand between your shoulder blades. Sweat beaded at the base of your neck.

"Give him hell. Who even reads the New York Times, anyway?"

A few low hoots echoed around the kitchen as you pushed your shoulders back and made your way toward the dining room.

Your facade melted as soon as you saw him. It infuriated you that he hadn't changed a bit. Only, grey framed his face more prominently now.

Everything else was perfectly the same.

"Joel." You breathed, hovering over the empty chair opposite him.

His face relaxed - not quite into a smile, it was something you'd never been able to put your finger on.

That's what infuriated you about him the most, you thought, you could never quite get him underneath your thumb. He would never give you the privilege.

"New menu each day, huh? Sounds like something I'd do."

"Is that it?" You choked, fighting to keep your voice low and expression neutral. It was so easy for him to get a rise out of you, he didn't even need to try.

"You think I'd come all this way t'just tell you that?"

Before a retort could form around your tongue, you noticed the band on his left ring finger.

You could've been sick there and then.

His gaze met yours, realisation setting into the creases in his forehead.

"I have a kitchen to run. Congratulations, Joel." You managed to murmur before tripping into the still kitchen, hot tears burning in the corner of your eyes.

"So?" Sabrina pressed, evidently expecting what should've been a run-in with the critic.

"Wasn't him." Was the only explanation you could muster.

You excused yourself, leaving the slow mechanics of service to resume in your absence. Clutching your stomach, you pushed your way out into the bite of the afternoon chill.

Had he come all this way to flash that thing in your face? To show you how much better his life had turned out in your absence? Even after all these years, was he still punishing you for daring to love him?

You laughed aloud at nothing, breath forming in puffs of condensation before your face. Of course you'd loved him; you still did.

Eight years of keeping yourself busy enough to forget the smell of his chest, the pressure of his lips against your temple in the middle of the night.

You had searched for the giddy intoxication of his presence in everything you did; working yourself to the bone in some sick, futile desire to replicate the knots in your stomach only he could tie.

All the while he'd moved on and settled down with someone he didn't have to hide.

You were useless, after all.

For the remainder of the day, you'd done your best to subside the embarrassment burning through your bloodstream.

The New York Times critic had arrived shortly after you'd attempted some form of composure; Sabrina had stalled her by talking about the weather while you perfected your illusion of a sane, tempered woman in the reflection of a saucepan.

Compared to your encounter with Joel, the magazine meeting was a breeze. Joel Miller may have crushed your self-worth, but over your dead body would you let him ruin this too.

Once all surfaces were wiped down and stoves cooled off for the night, you finally pulled on your coat and made for the exit. It took a few polite declines to join the others at a bar nearby to celebrate surviving the review, but you finally managed to wriggle out of the social obligation.

You saw the staff off, encouraging them to have a drink for you, before finally locking up.

"S'dangerous walking home alone this time of night." You froze, your back to him still.

Using all willpower, you kept your movements steady and unfazed as you twisted the key in the lock.

Fuck, you silently cursed yourself. Don't cry. Don't give him the satisfaction.

"I'm not walking. I get the subway."

Joel leaned against the low wall opposite the restaurant, his hands idly resting in the pockets of his thick corduroy jacket.

"Your wife not wondering where you've gotten to?" You'd spoken before you could stop yourself.

He cleared his throat, breaking his gaze on you.

"She's back in Austin. M'here on business, she, uh - she couldn't travel with the little one."

"Jesus." You laughed in despair. There was nothing left inside of you now. All those nights spent trying to remember the feel of his chest beneath your head, he had been making a real life for himself.

"What do you want, Joel? You getting a kick out of seeing me like this?" There was no holding back the tears that flowed freely down your cheeks. He looked like he was debating moving closer to you, brows knitted together, shaking his head softly.

"Hey," he whispered lowly. "Don't waste any tears on me, baby."

You scoffed, crossing your arms across your chest and tipping your chin toward the night sky. Joel pushed himself from the wall, closing the distance between you both.

"I loved you."

"I was never good enough for you, sweetheart." Joel smiled sadly, his hand finding a stray piece of hair to tuck behind your ear.

A sob escaped your body as you let yourself lean into his touch.

"I thought the world of you."

"You had a much bigger world to find. Look at you."

"I wanted to find it with you. Why wasn't I enough?" You hated the words tainting the cold air around you. You'd never been the type to beg a man to love you, but eight years of repressed emotion and unanswered questions had finally broken free from your bones.

"You got it all wrong, baby. I'm an old man. You deserved more than to be reduced to some housewife. Could've never had the career you do now with me holding you back."

"Don't pretend you did this for me, Joel."

Suddenly, your heart broke for the woman he had left back in Austin. His wife, the mother of his child. Is that all he saw in her?

"There was a time that I thought you were wonderful. I would hang off your every word, seek your approval in everything I fucking did. And it broke me. The day you told me I was useless - I hear it in the back of my mind every fucking day."

He was shaking his head, muttering it ain't like that softly under his breath.

"Then you come all the way to New York, to my restaurant in the middle of service, acting like you're the reason I am where I am now?"

"I was in town, thought it was the right thing to do. I wanted to see you. I-"

"It's always what you want, Joel. The doting wife. The accolade. You're pathetic. I hope your wife comes to her senses and leaves you, and for the sake of your kid, I pray they grow up to be nothing like you."

Weeks passed in flashes of numbness since Joel's fleeting visit.

For the first time in years, you slept soundly through the night. When the other chefs invited you for drinks, you accepted.

Soon, you laughed and drank too much wine without the aftermath of soaking your pillow in tears.

In moments of stillness, your voice was the only one you could hear, and it was kind. You treated yourself as you treated those around you, taking the time to care for yourself again.

The New York Times published their article on the first week of February. You arrived at the kitchen just as dawn peaked over the skyline, only to be greeted by the entirety of the kitchen staff.

That morning, expensive French champagne flowed freely and the article, written by Helen Anderson, was framed and hung above the door to the kitchen. The headline read:

A New Precedent Is Set In Greenwich Village.

The day fluttered by in flurries of pride, each other ringing through the kitchen with a joyful urgency. Phones buzzed frantically from pockets, messages of congratulations you would pick up after service.

At around 12pm, the UPS delivery man arrived at the back of the kitchen, holding out a tablet for a signature for a bouquet of flowers resting against the doorway.

"Chef of the hour, these are for you!" Sabrina skipped through the kitchen, blue hydrangeas and gypsophila outstretched toward you.

You cradled the bouquet before setting them down in your cupboard of an office. A small, cream card poked out of the side of the arrangement. Messy handwriting scrawled across both inner sides of the folded card.

Sweetheart,

I'm sorry I never found the words to tell you how I feel. I'm a miserable old man who's smoked too many cigarettes and never known a good thing in front of me.

You never needed me, but I needed you. I'll never forget the first time you walked into my kitchen. I'm a coward, and I should've told you I loved you all those years ago.

I'm sorry for treating you the way I did. I know I'm in no position to ask any favours, but please don't make the mistakes I did. Hell, you're too intelligent to live as foolishly as I did, anyway.

Hope you don't mind, Helen is a friend of mine. Told me a couple of days ago how your place is the best she's eaten in New York since Bourdain. Wanted to make sure these arrived on time; God knows I never could've.

Yours,

Joel

You wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, desperately rummaging around in your pocket for your phone.

Amidst the excitement of the morning, you had entirely neglected the copious buzzing of messages and alerts. Unlocking your phone, your eyes glazed over the most recent notification on your home screen:

Time Magazine Michelin chef, Joel Miller, dies at Austin home aged 57.

[brummiereader]

PREVIOUS PART

Hopelessly Devoted (PART THREE)

Summary: After the previous day's events relentlessly play out in your head you come to the realisation it's time to move on from any hopes you had of rekindling your relationship with Tommy. But just as you decided to turn the page, Tommy's thoughts begin to be plagued by the past. His attempts at confessing how he really feels short lived when he discovers he has been betrayed on the day his plan to take out Billy Kimber falls apart.

Warnings: Language, angst, mutual pining

Authors note: The song Y/N sings is "Where have all the flowers gone" covered by Olivia Newton-John.

" Shit..." you said as you looked in your bathroom mirror dabbing the cut on your throat with a cotton ball doused in alcohol as you glanced down at your trembling hand, quickly grabbing it with the other to stop the shaking as your frustration with the constant nerves engulfing your every waking breath refused to relent. Walking over to your bed you sat down as tears began to form in the corner of your eyes. How was there even any left? You thought to yourself as you rested your head in your hand, exhausted from another night of almost no sleep. Biting the corner of your mouth you gave up letting the tears fall down your arm as the previous day's events played out in your head, tormenting you over and over again at the bitter pill you had finally forced yourself to swallow. This was it. I'ts over, there was no point in trying to kid yourself into thinking otherwise. Tommy may not have said the words to you himself but Kimber's men had made it clear to you of his feelings when they had a knife pushed up against your neck threatening your life. He was protecting the new barmaid he had known for five minutes by giving your name so freely, putting you in harm's way, the woman he had known his whole life the same woman he once wanted to marry at all cost. You thought to yourself as you glanced at his pocket watch sitting on your bedside table, glaring at it as if he had returned his love back to you, discarding anything he once felt for you like he had with your own feelings for him. Standing up you wiped your tears away as you straightened your body out trying to regain some sort of control over your emotions. Would he even care if you told him what happened when you left the Garrison? What did it even matter, you quickly determined. You had no intentions of telling him, you would not let him think you needed his protection, have him pity you, have him believe you couldn't fend for yourself. You was on your own now that much was clear, his feelings towards you finally understood when he replaced the one thing you never thought he would with such disregard and heartlessness. If Tommy was moving on it was time you did the same. No more tears no more day dreaming of what could have been. From this day forward you promised yourself not to let the heartbreak he had caused you drag you down any further. New me, new start. You mentally hummed to yourself like a mantra as you looked in the mirror hanging on the wall, holding up the burgundy dress you had picked out against your body. "Fuck him" you said as you nodded at your reflection, reassuring yourself on the hardest decision you had ever made. Grace can have him, good luck to her.

" Where is she?" Tommy huffed as he loomed over the large table in the room adjacent to the betting shop as his family looked on shrugging their shoulders. " I dont have fucking time to wait around for her shit" Tommy said as he pulled out his new pocket watch, the weight of it not feeling the same, the shape of it not sitting in his hand how he liked how he had become accustomed to.

" Yes your relentless brooding over her is not obvious at all" Polly uttered quietly under her breath as she licked her finger, turning the page of the newspaper in front of her as Arthur and John sniggered at eachother.

" What's that, hm?" Tommy said as he leaned forward his eyes darting between the three of them as Arthur put his hands up in defence unable to hold back the laugh he had been trying to keep in. You were getting under his skin, and Arthur found it the most comical thing he witnessed all week.

" Sorry brother" Arthur said as he sniffed back his laughs clearing his throat. "But she always has had you by your balls. Not that you'll ever admit it" Arthur snickered as the whole room let out a burst of small laughs whilst Tommy's face twisted in anger. There was nothing more loving than teasing a family member in the Shelby house.

" Right you all done? " he said pointing at everyone as he pulled his pocket watch out to check the time again " Five minutes" he mumbled as he clenched his jaw. " I'll fire every single one of you" Tommy muttered as he sat down in his chair with a huff.

" Alright now that you've had your little temper tantrum can we get to business. And she's ten minutes late not five" Polly said taking a sip of tea, a smile on her lips as she watched the realisation on Tommy's face. His watch for the first time in ten years was on time. Fuck. He had become so used to it being five minutes late he would plan all his meetings around the little habit you had started ten years ago, never bothering to or wanting to turn it to the right time. Except this time you was ten minutes late. Just as Tommy was about to get into another rant about your tardiness the sound of your heels echoing loudly though the betting shop had everyone but Tommy turn their head.

"Fabulous" Polly mouthed to you when you walked into the room, motioning up and down with her hand at your outfit as Tommy's head nearly flew of his neck when he turned to face John and the wolf whistle he had just sent your way.

"There she is" Arthur said, sending you a wink of approval as you strutted through the room with a new air of confidence passing by Tommy as he finally turned his head to you. Looking you up and down Tommy cleared his throat as he shifted in his seat hitching his trousers further up, his eyes widening as he looked you over. Was this for his benefit or everyone else's he wondered as he looked at the way your dress hugged every curve of your body, every curve he could never keep his hands off.

" You're late" he said as his eyes pierced into you, piercing through that fucking dress you had decided to wear to make him jealous, to torment him. He thought to himself as he tried to stay composed, tried to stop himself from saying something he would regret.

" Oh am I?" you replied nonchalantly as you pulled a chair out from the side, scrapping it along the floor to the opposite end of the end of table. " Only five minutes though" you said sitting down, having not once looked at him since you entered the room.

" Ten" Tommy replied as he leaned his elbow on the arm of his chair, his fingers resting in front of his lips as he watched you brush your hair behind your shoulder. Something was different. And since when did you start wearing dresses like that? Tommy thought to himself when he suddenly determined you had a new man. His only evidence being that dress he couldn't keep his eyes off and the small remark you made the other day about your relationship being over, a remark that had been playing on his mind ever since. His eyes still boring into you, Tommy quickly decided he'd find the bastard you was dating and rip his throat out for daring to go near you. Had everyone forgotten the warning he had given?

" Replaced that too I see" you said finally looking up as your eyes locked onto each others, a smirk on you lips as you enjoyed your new founded confidence. Last night's events had finally given you the push you needed, the wake up call you had been longing for.

"Shall we start" Polly said as everyone else who had been watching your interactions finally shifted their eyes away from the palpable tension between you. Nodding his head Tommy lit a cigarette shaking the flame from the match as he continued to watch you in the corner of his eye.

All throughout the meeting you could feel the heat of his glare burning into your cheeks with every minute that passed whilst you constantly fidgeted in your chair, desperately wanting to free yourself from his incessant stare. Your confidence was back but not enough to face his piercing blue eyes that he enjoyed watching you squirm under and the foul mood he had forced you and everyone else to endure. As for Tommy he had no interest in what his family had to stay. Instead he was more concerned as to what had you looking so pleased with yourself so poised, a far cry from how you had been in recent years. His concerns only heightened when John went over dates for an event Tommy had planned for everyone in celebration. A celebration for what, nobody new yet.

"Talked with Aunt Pol, only date free is February the fifteenth, in a month's time for your...whatever it is" John said chewing on the end of his pencil as he squinted at his handwriting on the piece of paper in front of him. " No the sixteenth" he said looking up as Polly rolled her eyes.

" The nineteenth" she said as she shook her head at her nephew whilst John shrugged his shoulders replacing the pencil in his mouth with a toothpick.

" Right yeh, fine" Tommy said as he mentally went through the dates in his head, hoping his plans in a week's time would go the way he wanted to actually have something to celebrate about. "Y/N you gonna write that down?" he said looking to you as he tapped his fingers on the table trying to gain your attention.

" I can't come" you said as you finished writing in your notebook finally looking up to see the irritation growing in Tommy's face.

" It's a company gathering. You don't have a choice. Moving on..." Tommy said as he flicked his ash into the glass dish beside him as he lent back into his chair.

" I'm not obligated. It wasn't in my contract" you said as you crossed your arms.

" You don't have a contract" Tommy scoffed as he rubbed his brow in frustration.

" Well I want one, that way I know exactly where I stand"

"Think you're making it pretty clear were you stand sweetheart" Tommy said as you glared at him. " So what is it that has you so busy you can't come, care to share it with us?"

" I have plans with someone" you lied. In truth, you didn't have any reason to not got to Tommy's event. You just didn't want to, knowing you wouldn't be able to endure another evening watching him with her again.

"You have plans with someone in a month's time? Who?" Tommy asked stubbing out his cigarette getting annoyed with your short response" With who Y/N?"

" What's it got to do with you?"

" Another man, is that it hm? You fuckin..."

" Right think we're done ay" Arthur said standing up as he clapped his hands together cutting Tommy off in attempt to break the tension before a slagging match ensued between you both. Staring eachother down you was the first to get up, briskly walking away with a scowl on your face as Tommy brushed his hand down his face.

" See that fucking attitude I have to deal with?" Tommy said as he stood up turning to Arthur. It wasn't the first spat you had ever had in front of everyone but it had been the first time in a long time that you finally bit back at his words, catching him of guard.

" Wonder where she learnt that?" Arthur said as he placed his hand on Tommy's shoulder before walking off with a smirk on his face.

" I won't stand for this kind of attitude in a work place! Hey, you all listening to me?" Tommy shouted as he turned to everyone in the betting office and their weak attempts to hide the amusement on their faces.

" We hear you baby brother!" Arthur called out as he grabbed his hat walking out the door. Clearly everyone was mad at him, mad at the way he had treated you the previous evening in the Garrison . But Tommy was just as mad at himself for letting the events play out. He felt blindsided by Grace's gift. He needed you to know that, he needed you to know the last thing he wanted was to be parted from it.

It had been a few hours since the meeting when the tension between you and Tommy had almost turned into a full blown argument one that potentially had the chance of you launching anything you could find at him. Thankfully Arthur had intervened, stopping you from embarrassing yourselves in front of the whole betting shop. For the remainder of the day you had stayed out of each others way letting your anger towards one another simmer down. But an hour before closing time Tommy had called you into his office. His plan was to apologise for the previous evening, albeit in a cold uniquely Tommy way. But nonetheless he felt guilty for what had happened last night. Little did he know, he was only going to make things worse. As you entered his office Tommy looked up from the various papers on his desk to the scowl still spread across your face. You was clearly still mad at him, did he really think he could just apologise and his cruel actions would be forgotten?

" Hand me my diary" he asked as he rubbed his forefinger above his top lip watching you as you crossed your arms in frustration. Did he seriously ask you in here to fetch his diary for him ? You thought to yourself as you stormed over to the shelves behind him as he cleared his throat reaching for the pack of cigarettes on his desk. Slamming it on the table in front of him you started to walk off when he grabbed your arm stopping you.

" I need you to write down the dates John gave at the meeting" he said as he looked up at you and the storm of anger building in your face.

" You couldn't have done that yourself?"

" Forgot them" he said as he picked up a pencil handing it to you.

" You never forget anything Thomas Shelby" you snapped back grabbing the pencil from his hand as you started turning the pages, a little huff leaving your throat that Tommy couldn't help but smile at. " What's this?" you asked pointing at a black star one week from today.

" The day I finish my dealings with Kimber. The dates" he said nodding at the book, lighting a cigarette as your hand wavered over the paper at the confirmation from Tommy himself that what Kimber's men had said yesterday when they had you pushed up against the brick wall behind your home was Indeed true. Turning the page a sudden surge of discomfort started to build within you, a discomfort you hadn't felt since he left for France. He was putting his life at risk once again, and the only reaction you had was worry, worry that he wouldn't come back from it. " There" you said quietly, pushing the book towards him as you turned to leave.

" Y/N' wait" Tommy said as he stood up walking over to you." The other day at the Garrison...the pocket watch i didn't want to.."

" Just stop Tommy" you said as put your hand up cutting him off " We've both moved on, why hold onto the past right? " you added as Tommy let out a deep sigh whilst you turned your head away from him avoiding as much eye contact as you possibly could.

" That's the thing, I never mov... What's that?" He said as he moved your hair away from your neck, you body flinching as his thumb rubbed along the small knife mark on your skin. " Y/N who did that to you?" Tommy said, his voice getting lower as a surge of anger started to course through him.

" It's nothing Tommy"

" Nothing? You're lying" he replied with a scoff as he moved your hair away again, ducking his head down to to get a better look when you swatted his hand away. " Looks like someone had a knife to your throat" he said as he let his hand drop to his side, fury rising within him at the mere thought of someone hurting you.

" Don't be ridiculous. I was cutting my hair and nipped my skin. Why do you care anyway?"

"You never was very good at lying Y/N" Tommy said huffing as he watched you bite the corner of you bottom lip whilst you fidgeted in place. " And you really think I stopped caring about you?"

" Yes" you said as the words caught in your throat, tears welling in your eyes as you spun around to the door not wanting him to see you like this. His pity was the last thing you needed to add to you ever growing list of reasons to feel insecure.

" Y/N wait, I need to know what happened " he said as he tried to turn you around but stopped as you shrugged him off you, opening the door then slamming it shut behind you.

" Fuck sake" Tommy muttered under his breath as he watched you return to your desk through the window of his office. There was no way he would let this slide. You was clearly lying to him and he was determined to find out why.

As closing time approached you picked up your belongings when your movements had Tommy who was deep in thought abruptly stand up grabbing his coat and hat. If he was coming out here to bombard you with questions as to what happened he could forget it. You thought to yourself as you hurried to the door hearing him call your name. "Fucking door" you mumbled, pulling at the handle trying to open it as you looked over your shoulder to see Tommy heading your way, luck finally falling upon you when John stopped him putting the book of takings in front of him. Open, open, open! You thought as you rattled the handle pulling it back and forth when the door suddenly opened with ease and Grace walked in.

" Y/N" she said as she looked you over, taking in your reddened face from your efforts, a small chuckle leaving her lips. " Came to surprise Tommy after work" she said as she continued to stand in your way.

" How lovely" you said sarcastically as you tried to push past her when she put her hand on your arm.

" I know about that old pocket watch you gave Tommy all those years ago" she said looking at you. " Best you let go off the past, after all Tommy said it was only a silly little teen fling" she said with a small smile.

" Fling?" You repeated taken aback by what she had just said, what Tommy had said to her.

" Childhood sweethearts never last Y/N, don't be naive" She said in a mocking tone, belittling you without an ounce of shame at her hurtful choice of words. What were you saying, what had she said? Tommy panicked as John continued to bother him with the takings of the day. As your head turned to face him, Tommy swallowed harshly at the sight of a tear falling down your cheek.

" Let her go Tommy" Grace said placing both her hands on his chest as he walked over to where you had been standing, watching you storm out onto the streets of Watery Lane as the door closed behind you.

A fling, a fucking fling. He once asked you to marry him, promised to spend the rest of his life with you, her words couldn't have cut deeper if they tried. Let them have eachother. You thought to yourself as you clutched your coat around you heading for home, back to the four walls where you knew you would ultimately fall apart once again, your new founded confidence short-lived your own promises discarded, dwindling down into a pile of self-doubt and surrender after Graces cruel remarks. Could things get any worse?

One week later..

Today was black star day, the day Tommy planned to take out Billy Kimber and all of his dealings. Sitting in the corner of the Garrison nursing the drink you had ordered over an hour ago you glanced over to see Tommy and Grace standing behind the bar pouring drinks for his men, undoubtedly to numb any nerves that threatened to appear risking the plan Tommy had been preparing meticulously for weeks. Lifting his head from the glass of stout he was pouring Tommy caught your eye. It was the first time in almost a week you had looked each others way, anything you had to say to one another was passed on to anyone in the betting shop that was willing and had the patience to deal with both of your stubbornness. But today was different and Tommy couldn't help but notice the way you was looking at him, the same way you looked at him as you both waited on the platform for the train to arrive and take him and all of the other men saying goodbye to their loved ones off to war. The only difference between them and you was you had barely uttered a word to eachother, his final goodbye before he boarded a quick peck to your cheek.

And as if you had been transported back five years, tears started to form in your eyes as you abruptly stood up leaving the Garrison like you did when Tommy stepped on the train not once looking back, leaving you alone and heartbroken. What you didn't know was, Tommy did look back. He pushed his way past all the other men in the carriage in search of a free window shouting your name as he desperately tried to get a glimpse of you one last time before he left for war.

"Y/N!" Tommy shouted as he grabbed his coat and hat racing out of the Garrison. He wouldn't let what happened on that platform five years ago play out again.

" Tommy wait! What are you doing?" Grace called out after him as she watched the Garrison doors close behind him. " Why does he always go after her? He doesn't even love her anymore" she seethed as she looked to Arthur who raised his brow downing the rest of his drink.

" Doesn't love her? He's a stubborn bastard but he never stopped Grace" Arthur said as he walked away leaving her fuming at Tommy's unrelenting devotion to you.

"Where have all the young men gone,

long time ago?

Where have all the young men gone?

Gone to soldiers, every one..."

You sang, tears streaming your cheeks as you sat by your little brother Georgie's gravestone, his life taken like so many others during an air raid. Wiping your tears you continued to sing as if time had stood still and you was back in 1916 sitting on the grass in the only place you felt peace and calm, waiting for the men you loved so much to return from war.

" Do you still sing that song for me?" Tommy said as he slowly approached you, afraid you'd stop.

" Leave me alone Tommy" you sniffed as you stood up brushing the remaining tears away from your cheeks, looking out at Small Heath in the distance.

" We live in the same town, work in the same place. I can't...I don't want to" He said as he stepped closer wanting to reach out to you, wanting to hold you in his arms like he should have done all those years ago.

" Yes, Tommy Shelby doesn't care what anybody else wants, what anybody else asks does he? you replied misunderstanding the meaning behind his words. " Why did you follow me?" you sighed picking up the dead flowers by Georgie's grave as you turned around making you way down the hill not wanting to even wait for his response when Tommy put his arm out, stopping you from walking any further.

" You were crying" he replied feeling like a teen boy again stuck on what he really wanted to say. " Y/N I.." Tommy sighed as he brought his thumb up, brushing it down your cheek. " I knew you would come up here" he said, his hand dropping from your face as he abandoned the small speech he had prepared as he made his way to the cemetery to find you.

" Crying, I've been crying for five years, only now you notice?!" you scoffed pushing past him.

" Oh I noticed, its not like you try and hide it, do you? " Always pushing it in my face, have you forgotten who's fault this all is, eh?" Tommy said as his stance stiffened, his coldness towards you making a swift return when you didn't respond to his veiled attempts to be tender with you.

" Here I almost forgot. Throw it in the cut like you did everything else when you came back from France, like you did my heart. After all it was just a fling " you said storming back to him as you pulled his pocket watch out of your coat, shoving it into his hands.

" A fling? Y/N!" Tommy called out furrowing his brow as he watched you run down the hill. "You broke my heart first, you fucking broke mine first!" Tommy shouted back taking his cap off as he brushed his hands through his hair. " Fuck!" He yelled throwing his hat onto the grass as Jeremiah and Arthur came running up the hill.

" Tommy!" Arthur shouted as his brother turned around to face them, brushing his eyes with the back of his hand.

" What? What is it?" Tommy sniffed as his eyes darted between them both. "Well?"

"Tell him what you just told me" Arthur said breathlessly as he turned to Jeremiah stood beside him.

" Just heard there's to van's driving up the Stratford Road. An old Corporal of mine said he recognised some of the men..he said it's the Kimber boys"

"Ada wake up! You and the baby get into the ball ring where there's lots of people" Tommy said as he stormed through their house on Watery Lane as Arthur, Jeremiah and his son Isaiah followed behind him.

" What's going on?" Polly said as she took in Tommy's panicked state.

"We've been fucking betrayed" he replied rubbing his forehead. " Someone let slip. Kimber's men are on their way here" Tommy said as he paced the room back and forth.

" Yeh but you can handle them Tommy" Polly said having confidence that her nephew had another plan if something like this was to to happen.

"It's just us. All the Lee's are on their way to Worcester, we're outnumbered" Tommy said as the realisation his plan had fallen apart started to sink in. "Fuck!" he shouted as he slammed his hands down onto the top of a cabinet, the pictures and ornaments rattling from the force of his outburst.

"Who else knew today was the day you was moving on Kimber? You said you kept it a secret who else did you tell? " Polly questioned as Tommy leaned his weight on the mahogany wood, clenching his jaw at what Isaiah had told him before they had all entered the house.

" Isaiah" Tommy said as he turned his head to the young Blinder. " Tell them what you just told me"

" Tom, I don't think she was..." he said as he stepped forward when his boss cut him off.

" Tell them!" Tommy shouted turning around, his patience wearing so thin he was close to loosing any self-control he had left.

" The other day I saw Y/N with Kimber's men in the alley way behind her place. I thought she'd come to you and tell you herself. Tom they look like they roughed her up " he said as Tommy scoffed at his remark.

" Nah I don't believe it. Y/N would never..." Arthur said when Tommy interrupted.

" Betray me? She fucking hates me, you've all seen it " he replied raising his brow as he stepped closer to his older brother. " You've always stuck up for her, but she did this, she threw us under the bus. All of us, even you Arthur" he said pointing his finger in his older brothers face.

" I'd back away if I was you Tommy, because this time I won't let you win baby brother" Arthur said pushing him in the chest away from him. " We've known her since we were bloody kids. Y/N would never betray this family, she's one of us" Arthur concluded as he walked away grabbing the bottle of whisky on the table, pouring himself a full glass before he too lost control of his temper.

" Tommy that girls been devoted to you the moment she met you, you're blinded by your bitterness towards her. Did you not tell anyone else? Polly asked as Tommy shook his head forgetting or ignoring the fact he had, the very same person who had written it in his diary. No, Tommy's sights were set on you, only you could have done this only you could have betrayed him.

NEXT PART

Tag list: @cosniffee @jonsncws @powellssaturn @jessimay89 @bruher @riseandreigns4u @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @chimchimjiminie16 @gaslysainz @calicoootalks (unable to tag) @weaponizedvirtue @vlryexsworld (unable to tag) @shittyprofilebutfuckit @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @peakyswritings @kammsinn @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @cherryslyce @esquivelbianca @taliawz (unable to tag) @answer-the-sirens @dielgonacoffee @cicilysgrace @nadloves @fanatics30 @httyd-marauders @beeposstuff @yeppaweshallsee (unable to tag) @ja-4-leyvam (unable to tag) @xmariakx @slighltyaboveaverageiq (unable to tag) @fairypitou @youngbananamilkshake

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

It’s the day after Halloween and Erik’s girl decided to make use of an old costume in the back of her closet

Erik came home to Lil Wayne- Mrs. officer blasting loudly. He shut the front door with a puzzled look on his face, taking off his denim jacket to hang by the door. Walking in further with their dinner in his hand, he noticed that the music was coming from upstairs.

“Baby?!” Erik shouted to get her attention.

She had the music playing so loud that she couldn’t hear him. Erik sat their food down on the kitchen island and jogged up the stairs. As he strolled down the hall, hands in his grey hoodie pockets, he noticed dim lighting in the bed room and the ‘special lights’ were in use. They only used the ‘special lights’ for nasty time.

Erik made it to the entrance of their bedroom and his eyes fell on his woman dressed in a sexy officer costume that he wouldn’t allow her to wear outside because of how revealing it is. The top was two sizes too small and the skirt sat above her ass and not over it.

She wore a pair of six inch pleasure heels in patent black, aviator shades, and an officer hat to match. In her hand is a pair of cuffs and she posed for him with her hip jutted out and one hand up to stop him in his tracks.

“FREEZE! It’s time to fuck!” She shouted with an authoritarian voice.

Erik’s eyebrows disappeared behind his loc bang and the side of his mouth quirked up into a smirk.

“HANDS. UP.” She ordered, revealing a vibrator from a gun thigh holster.

Erik raised his hands above his head and tried his hardest not to laugh but his dimples gave it straight away.

“You’re late…why are you late, Sir?” She questioned with a stern tone.

Erik formed a crease in his brow and cocked his head to the side, puzzled.

“I went to get us Chipotle—”

“Don’t lie! It’ll only get you in jail…and when you’re in jail, you don’t get to cum.”

Erik narrowed his eyes at her and licked his lips before speaking.

“Had a quick lil’ smoke break. Made a stop to my plug.”

Erik slowly lowered his hand and pulled out some weed from his hoodie. He raised it up to show her the proof.

“TOSS THE GRASS ON THE DRESSER!”

Erik did as he was told.

“Aight, what next, Mrs. officer?!” Erik asked jokingly.

“Down on your knees.” She ordered.

Erik got down on his knees. She walked up to him and his eyes fell to her meaty thighs and wide hips. The fishnets with the heels had him biting his lip and frowning his face in pure lust. She stopped in front of him and Erik looked up at the view of her cleavage. She looked so sexy with a scowl on her face.

She removed her shades and tossed them, “You’re under arrest.”

“For what?” Erik said with a smirked.

“FOR BEING GONE TOO LONG AND NEGLECTING THIS PUSSY.”

Erik elevated a brow and stared at her tiny skirt. He could see a red thong.

She scowled at him.

“GET UP, NIGGA!”

Erik stood and looked her dead in the eye. Even in her heels she wasn’t at his eye level. Just short and cute. They were having their very own staring contest.

“Take off your clothes…now.” She commanded with her eyes still locked to his, “Or I’ll do it for you.”

Erik broke his eyes away and looked around as if he were in la-la land. He started humming to Mrs. Officer since it was playing on repeat. He couldn’t help but to start singing along.

“Woo, woo, woo (yeah, yeah), yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Woo, woo, woo (yeah), yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“HANDS OUT! TIME FOR A PAT DOWN!”

Erik held his arms out and looked down at her with a penetrating stare. She started with his hoodie first. She lifted it above his head and tossed it to the floor. He had on a white beater and a gold chain. She took her long nails, eyes still on him, and ripped it from his torso. Her nails snagged his skin a little and it stung so so good.

She got down on her knees and still kept an eye on him with those sultry eyes of hers. She yanked roughly at his grey joggers and thy fell to his ankles. Next, she took her time lowering his briefs. When his thick dick bobbed out like a door stopper she flinched when it hit her cheek. Erik made his dick jump in her face, taunting her while she undressed him down to his shoes and socks.

“STOP MAKING YOUR DICK JUMP IN MY FACE, NIGGA!”

Erik snorted a laugh. He couldn’t control it this time. Hearing her say nigga always made him laugh. She stood up and grabbed his dick. Erik’s laughter died in his throat. She tore her eyes away from his and slowly looked down at his girth in her hand.

“This is heavy artillery…dangerous shit you carrying around, Sir. Heavy loaded…and what’s this?” She reached for his balls, “This where you carrying that heat, huh? You think you’re slick? Thought I wasn’t gonna find it, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?!”

She started slapping his dick around with her right hand and Erik extended his neck, looking towards the ceiling, trying with all the strength of his ancestors to keep from grabbing her by the hair and forcing his dick in her fucking mouth. That shit felt so good. She stopped and a groan bubbled up in his throat heavily.

“You know the drill, hands behind your back!”

She twirled her finger with a long, black acrylic nail for him to turn around. When he did, she placed the cuffs on his wrists. Erik could easily break through those lousy shits but he let her have her fun.

“You’re not gonna read me my rights?” He kissed his teeth, “The fuck type of shit is this?”

“You have the right to remain at my command. Anything you say or do will be used against you in this bedroom. You don’t have a fuckin’ right to nothing but making me feel good. If you can’t obey that, you don’t get to buss a nut. If you decide to disobey me anyway, well…you know the drill.”

Erik quietly laughed the entire time.

“Do you understand, my personal seat?”

She squeezed the cuffs around his wrists and Erik couldn’t deny that it hurt. He winced and gritted his teeth.

“Yes.” He spoke with a grunt.

“Do you understand, big dick bandit?”

Erik tucked his chin and smiled. He was enjoying this.

“YES.” He spoke with frustration.

“You got an attitude?” She questions.

“No, Ma’am.”

“I think you do.”

“No, Ma’am.” Erik urged.

“Uh-huh…turn around.”

He faced her again and his dick was pointed straight out like a flag pole. He was saluting her for sure. She completely ignored it poking her.

“Get on the bed! We’re going for a ride.”

She pushed him towards the bed and it was no use because he didn’t budge. She slapped him on the ass and he jumped away from her, unable to use his hands because they were restrained. Erik walked over to the bed and sat down. She pulled the vibrator from her thigh holster and tossed it onto the bed.

“Lay on your back.” She instructed with a sassy tone.

Erik scooted his hips back until his feet were no longer hanging over the bed. He rested his head back and stared down his sculpted body at her. Still, he made that hard dick jump anyway.

“Stil making that dick jump?! Tryna threaten me or something?!”

“I don’t give a fuck ima make it jump until you come and sit on it or put it in your fuckin’ mouth!”

“Who the FUCK are you talking to, Erik?”

She kicked off her shoes and took off her fishnets and thong. She walked over to the bed and climbed on top. She stood over him with her legs on either side of his hips. Erik stared up at her bald, wet pussy with fat lips and grunted.

“Keep it up, you’re only gonna make it worse for you.”

She turned around and lowered to her knees. Scooting her body closer to his face, she sat her wet pussy lips on his mouth and started bouncing. She grabbed her phone from the side table and changed the song to one appropriate for popping ass.

Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion- Bongos.

Bong, bong, bong, bong (We good?)

Bong, bong, bong, bong (Like a drum)

Bong, bong, bong, bong (This is fire)

Bong, bong, bong-bong-bong-bong

Her phat ass swallowed Erik’s face and her pussy glided across his lips and tongue. Erik had his arms behind his back and was uncomfortable in that position but it was worth it. He sucked and licked to his hearts desire. She did a little hip roll, riding his face. Erik’s dick was iron hard and neglected. The stiffness was almost painful.

“Stick your tongue in my pussy…mmmm…you know, I have a thing for bad boys…and you’ve been a very bad boy.”

She opened her mouth and spit on his dick, bringing her hand down to stroke him. She was amazing at hand jobs. She stroked with a twisting motion, increasing pressure on the uptake so he could feel it on his frenulum. The muscles in Erik’s legs flexed when she started massaging his balls.

“FUCK.” She bounced her pussy when Erik latched onto her clit with those thick lips, “This is our dirty little secret…you make me cum…I’ll make you cum…and I’ll forget all about your crimes…mmmfuckkk!”

She gasped, slowly jerking him off while cumming in his mouth. She made her cheeks bounce like a ball before her entire body shivered with her orgasm. She let go of Erik’s dick and lifted off of him. Erik licked his lips and when he breathed in, he could smell her on his mustache.

“Fuck, look what you did to your officer,” She arched her back and with one hand, she spread her cheek so he could see her sloppy pussy winking at him, “you made me cum so hard. I should put you away for those lips too! That shit is a fucking weapon for pussy! And that tongue?! So so dangerous!”

Erik’s mouth was hanging open slightly, gold slugs glinting savagely. He sat up and struggled against the cuffs.

“That ass phat ass fuck, Mrs. officer…what’s your name?”

“You don’t get to call me by my name. It’s Mrs. Officer to you, prisoner.”

She turned and crawled over to Erik and between his legs. Ass in the air, she kissed up his legs, eyes on him, and when her lips reached his dick, she dragged her tongue over his balls, shaft, and twirled it around the tip of his dick. Erik moaned, the sound so deep in his chest. With no hands, she sucked his dick, making all ten inches disappear down her throat.

“You shouldn’t be doing this, Mrs. officer with the sweet pussy, it’s against the law to suck prisoners off, right?” Erik said.

“I can do what the fuck I want. I’m in charge.”

She spit on his dick and with her hand she twisted at the base like a pepper grinder and continued sucking with a tight suction. Erik’s eyes rolled shut and he bit down on his lip hard. She was making all kinds of obscene, raunchy, straight nasty noises.

She popped her lips off, “You think you deserve to cum?”

“Yesss, Mrs. officer,” Erik said.

“I love big dicks, especially big dick killers.”

He curled the top of his lip at her and arched a brow to challenge her, “Is that fucking right?”

“Mhm,” She licked his tip, “I know about you…Killmonger. I’ve been keeping an eye on you…and now…I finally got you.”

She alternated between tonging his balls and throating him. Erik flexed his abs and grunted deep, a heavy nut climbing up until he erupted in the back of her throat. With each release, he would groan. He fell back against the bed and she let go of his dick, licking up any remains.

“I think I earned having these cuffs off, don’t you agree?”

The glint in his eyes almost made her break character and submit. She stood up and removed her hat and pulled out her titties. He watched her bounce them in his face and twirl her nipples.

“You’ve behaved. I guess I can take you out of those cuffs…but only after I’ve had my second nut from you.”

Erik rolled his eyes.

“Sit. Here.”

She pointed to a chair in front of a large mirror on the wall. Erik scooted off of the bed and as he walked past her, he nodded his head as if telling her I’m gonna tear that ass up when I’m free.

He sat down and she walked over to uncuff him. Erik reached out and popped her on the undercuff of her phat ass hard and she glared at him.

“Don’t test me, Killmonger.” She warned him.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He replied.

“I mean it. I’ll edge you for the rest of the night. You won’t get to cum until the next day.”

She turned around and looked back at her reflection. The chair had cuffs attached and she decided to restrain him again but make it more comfortable. She attached his wrists on either side of the chair before straddling him. They both had a view like no other. Erik could look over her shoulder and watch her ride his dick. The music switched to a song from her playlist Erik hadn’t recognized but whatever it was had her riding his dick to the beat.

She held onto his shoulders and bounced on his dick hard. Her ass was like a tidal wave and he could see his wet dick going in and out of her. The cuffs rattled against the chair. He tried to get a titty in his mouth but they were swaying out of control.

Fuck, this big dick, I love this big dick!”

She looked back at it through the mirror and caught Erik’s eye.

“You love this tight pussy?!”

“I fucking love this tight, wet pussy, Mrs. officer.”

She turned back to look at him. Erik tilted his head back and she stuck her tongue out so they could flick tongues before she sucked it into her mouth. Erik broke the kiss and cursed when he felt himself getting ready to nut again. Hee pussy was like sorcery.

“Stay on that dick…I’m nuttin’ in this puss!”

“You can’t nut in me, Killmonger!”

“Fucccckkkkkkkkk—”

He couldn’t control it. Her walls choked him and milked him. He let out a shaky breath.

“It’s your fault, you’re a true rider.” Erik said with a smirk.

She climbed off and his dick fell against his abdomen, still hard. She could feel his cum on her inner thighs. Erik looked over at her with an impatient expression, and she smiled at him before walking over with a key to free him.

“Looks like you’re free to go, Killmonger,” She undid the other side, “You can thank me—”

Erik stood up at his full height—imposing— and she dropped the cuffs. He backed her towards the bed and she sat down, looking up at him with timid eyes.

“Whatchu scared for, Mrs. officer?”

She looked about, trying to come up with a reason for her sudden change of attitude.

“I asked you a question!” He barked out, gold slugs gleaming viscously like fangs.

“…You lied. You’re not free…you killed again to get to me, didn’t you?”

Erik loved how she continued the role play. He wrapped his hand around her neck and brought his face close to hers.

“You owe me. Im in charge now, slut. You do what I say…understand?”

“Yes, Killmonger.” She answered.

“Stand up and turn around…”

She did as she was told and he spanked her hard. She winced at the pain and fell to her stomach.

“Arch your back, bitch,” He barked out, “The fuck is this? Arch your fuckin’ back I’m not gon’ say it again!”

She arched her back like a pro and looked back at him with fear.

“Yeahh…I love that look. You should be scared…”

He grabbed the old cuffs and put them on her, chuckling to himself.

“Don’t feel so good, do it? DO IT?!”

“NO!”

He spanked her again. Popped each ass cheek with his open palm.

“Locked me up for carrying heavy artillery but you ain’t complain wit’ it in your mouth and pussy though, huh?!”

He popped her again and she whimpered.

“What’s your fucking name?!”

“KIMBERLY!”

Pop!

“Nah, you’re my little slut! Mrs. Slutty Officer!”

Pop!

“Ooh! I’m sorry!”

Erik grabbed her hips and plunged forward. He gripped her cuffed wrists and started giving her back shots. That ‘artillery’ went off in that pussy. She had her face in the sheets, moaning and crying. He was balls deep and not letting up on his strokes.

“Look at me!” He commanded

She looked back at him and he held her weak gaze.

“It’s so big, daddy!” She cried.

“I’m daddy now?”

“Yes,” She sobbed, “You’re my daddy.”

Her ass ricocheted.

“I got your shit creaming all over my dick.”

“Fuck, ima cum!”

“Shut up,” Erik increased the pace, “Girl…run again. Ima make sure I put this dick in your chest.”

“SHIT!”

Her body convulsed. Erik popped her ass and grabbed her by the cuffs, lifting her from the bed. He pumped her three times more before withdrawing his hips. She fell to the bed and he took off the cuffs, flipping her onto her back. Since she’s so small, he took her ankles, crossed them with one hand, and with the other he tapped her clit with his dick and sank deep inside of her.

“Mmmmmmmm!!!!”

Erik looked down at her through his wild locs. He let go of her ankles and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He sucked her titties one by one while his hips pumped her.

“Fuck, that dick is so good, Erik, it’s so good, Unh!”

Erik sat up to look at her. He looked down at his dick going in and out, her hands dragging down his chest.

“Keep that pussy right there, I’m a fill this shit up again.” He spoke through clenched teeth.

The sound of skin slapping increased. Erik held both of her legs back by the ankles and fucked her harder into the mattress. She reached out to wrap her hand around his neck and opened her mouth. Erik stuck his tongue out at her and wiggled it.

“You cumming again? I feel that shit…”

Her eyes rolled back and she came undone beneath him.

“GAHHDAMN!”

Erik pumped her twice more and came deep inside of her.

“Oh my goodness,” Kimberly giggled, “This was amazing!”

Erik rolled his sweaty body over onto his back. Kimberly sat up on her elbow and draped a leg over Erik’s waist while her hand rested on his chest. Erik turned to look at her with a warm smile.

“This should be our new thing. Keep all your old costumes for role play. You still got that Elastagirl one, right? Oh! we definitely gotta do Harry Potter.”

“I’m the innocent little Hufflepuff and you’re the big bad Slytherin?” Kimberly said with a seductive tone, tracing his abs with a single nail.

“Mhm,” Erik rubbed her back with his hand, “What do you think about Venom and Spidergirl?”

Kimberly’s eyes lit up like Christmas time was here already.

[drarryspecificrecsdaily]

2024.08.20

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. devotion (my blood sings with your voice) by @lupinflowrs [M, 2k]

►draco and harry love each other so, so much that it's hard to put into words. harry tries to.

2. Kitchen dancing to bad 90’s music by Big_dog_energy [?, 19k]

►When Draco gets injured in his animagus form, he’s forced to live with Harry Potter until he recuperates. What ensues is the most unlikely friendship—and then romance— the Wizarding World has ever seen. /// Featuring a snide, sassy Draco, a soft, domestic post-war world and Harry Potter with PTSD medication in his bedside drawer and flowers on his windowsill.

3. Made for Duty by @pixiedunhoff [E, 11k]

►A one night stand will entwine the futures of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy forever.

4. The No Divorce Clause by @coffeedrgn87 [E, 144k]

►Haunted by the war’s aftermath, Harry Potter flees his old life, searching for peace in far-flung corners of Europe. But peace proves elusive when he unexpectedly crosses paths with Draco Malfoy. In a world where magic lingers just beneath the surface, their journey takes them through enchanted cities and ancient secrets, testing the boundaries between rivalry and something far deeper. With unresolved tension crackling between them, Harry and Draco face a slow-burning connection that neither can ignore. As they navigate heartbreak, danger, and the shadows of their past, they’ll discover that the hardest battle isn’t always against dark wizards—it’s against the walls they've built around their hearts.

5. you cannot save people, you can only love them by falconns [T, 3k]

►[...] They aren't supposed to find safety in each other, but that's what it feels like. He feels like a place Harry didn't think even existed anymore.

---

Fest/Exchange

1. The only thing worse than heartbreak is Vermont by @jtimu [E, 31k] --- ART by @girlcave

►In the aftermath of a failed relationship, Draco Malfoy found himself with three things. His pride (tattered), Theo's luggage (stolen), and an all-inclusive couples' vacation package to Vermont (awful). ★ Drarry Mini Bang | @drarry-mini-bang

2. Seeker Practice by @poljupci [E, 1k]

►Harry Potter is a good Seeker. The fact that catching their snitch of a soulmark gets both of them all hot and bothered is just some extra incentive. ★ HP Soulmates Fest 2024 | @hp-soulmates

[lesbian-thesbian]

I’ve been reading Les Mis and I noticed an awesome parallel. It’s not really an obscure one but it is so elaborate and poetic and REALLY got me thinking.

In the Petit Gervais chapter, Valjean considers that giving him the candlesticks and forgiving him was the cruelest thing that the bishop could have done to/for him.

“He dimly felt that this priest’s pardon was the hardest assault, the most formidable attack he had ever sustained.”

We later learn that Valjean eventually holds himself to very binary standards of morality, labeling himself as either the bishop or the convict.

This made me think of Valjean’s pardon of Javert much later. By releasing him at the barricades, he fully embodies the bishop in that moment, DIRECTLY paralleling the most formative moment in his own life.

What makes their reactions so different? They both sustained years of anger and abuse that shaped them into cold, cruel people. They both had their perceptions of the world shattered by an act of kindness. They both escaped their worlds, but in very different ways.

The melodic and lyrical parallel of “I am reaching but I fall” with Valjean and Javert obviously indicates that Boublil and Schonberg made this same connection. (Like I said, it’s not a difficult connection to make. It just makes me think.)

It also reminds me of one of my favorite musical theatre parallels/callbacks from Fun Home. Medium Alison in Changing my Major singing “Am I falling into nothingness or flying into something so sublime?” And Bruce singing that same line in Edges of the World.

Same question, different answer.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

You and Me

AN: I felt compelled to write something based on the best song off of ATE so, here we are. Also, purple haired Changbin had a vicious hold on me so.

Synopsis: Changbin isn't what you're used to. He's uncomplicated. Fun. Casual. However, maybe that's what you need.

General tags and warnings: Seo Changbin x Fem! Reader, situationship/casual dating, one mention of past alcohol consumption, barely there angst and mentions of a breakup and not much plot.

Smut tags and warnings: While there isn't explicit powerplay, Reader does take charge and Changbin is more on the submissive side, petnames, dirty talk, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple and breast play (f. receiving), Reader is very into Changbin's body (she's just like me fr), strength kink, arm kink of sorts, piv sex without a condom and creampie.

Word count: 3k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

“Hey!” he yells, shooting you a nasty scowl that only makes you laugh before turning his attention back to his needlessly massive television, “You totally cheated!” 

Things with Changbin are simple. Easy. Freeing. 

“It's not my fault you suck at Mario Kart, Bin,” you respond through laughter that causes your cheeks and stomach to start hurting. Your amusement only grows as you watch him still lose to you even though you're playing while laughing at him and his horrible gaming skills. 

You're not sure why he insists on playing when you both know how trash at it he is. 

“I swear you cheated,” he mumbles under his breath, though it's loud and clear enough for you to hear. You playfully bump your shoulder against his, “How would I even cheat in this game?” you bite back a giggle when you notice his scowl deepen from the corner of your eye, “I just think someone is a sore loser and can't handle getting their ass kicked,” you sing-song. 

“I am not a sore loser,” he argues, fingers mashing the buttons of his controller as his eyes focus on Bowser inching closer to fifth place with every button he all but smashes. “You're just a dirty, lying cheater,” he grumbles, his lips forming a thin line as his attention briefly shoots to your choice of Peach comfortably in second place. 

You elect not to give into his accusations. Simply letting your actions speak for themselves and smirking when you cross the finish line in first place. Again. Changbin crosses his arms and refuses to look at you for a few moments and you try your hardest not to laugh at the pout on his face and the way his purple bangs shadow his eyes. 

“Changbin,” you start, the struggle to hold back your laughter evident to even your own ears. 

“One more game.” 

The corners of your lips tick up without your consent, “Changbin, we've already played five rounds and I won four of them,” you respond. 

“Just one more. I know I can win,” he argues desperately. You don't think you've ever seen anyone take Mario Kart this seriously. His ego must be terribly bruised right now. 

“We had a deal, Binnie,” you remind him, your smile widening, “A deal that was actually over two, whole rounds ago.” 

“Fine,” he sighs dramatically in resignation and this time you do let the giggles bubble out of you. You can't remember the last time you allowed yourself to just…have fun before meeting the man next to you after one too many glasses of wine and swiping on Tinder. 

Minho had been incessantly nagging you to put yourself out there after things crashed and burned with your ex-boyfriend of five years. Saying that you were wrecked after he broke up with you last year would be putting it kindly. You're honestly not sure how you survived that but, a stubborn man who is arguably more cat than human and who loves you more than he'll ever admit likely had something to do with it. 

‘The best way to get over someone is to get under someone new. Or, on top of them. Whatever works for you.’ His advice was pretty horrible but, after spending these handful of months with Changbin, you can't say it totally sucked. 

You're startled out of your thoughts by a firm hand on your thigh, plush lips kissing along your jaw. You're not sure exactly when he moved but, you aren't complaining. Placing your controller down and letting your fingers run along his purple locks. 

“I really like this colour,” you say a little breathlessly, letting him push you down onto his couch and make himself comfortable between your thighs. You've found that it's incredibly easy to get in the mood when it comes to Changbin. A few kisses and groping at his massive arms and you're ready to go.  

He laughs softly against your neck, eager hands shoving your shirt up and exposing your breasts to the cool air of his apartment, “I've noticed. If I was a more insecure man, I think you cumming extra hard the first time you fucked me after I dyed it would hurt my feelings,” he muses against your skin, his warm breath combined with the way his firm hands gently knead your tits causing your mind to grow hazy and your clit to buzz to life. 

“I mean, it's still you that made me cum so, there's no real reason to feel insecure anyway,” you respond with a snort, arching into him when his soft lips press firmer kisses along your collarbone. Usually endearing eyes becoming heavier with desire with every second his mouth and his hands remain on your more than willing body. “True but, a lesser man would,” he replies, sounding increasingly more uninterested in this conversation and instead focusing on your hardened nipples and spanning as much of his hands as he can along your waist. 

You can't say you blame him. The fog creeping into your mind worsens when his warm mouth eventually takes the plunge and envelopes one of the nipples he's been sneaking glances at since you showed up braless hours ago. The determination to make sure you're enjoying yourself is one of your favourite parts of Changbin, as selfish as that may be. He's purposeful, even in moments where his passion overrides the rational side of his brain. His fingers experimenting with how to caux the most visceral reactions from you, his mouth testing to see how soft or hard you like it. Even all these months later, his curiosity and desire to see just how much and in how many ways he can make you feel good makes your head spin. 

The light drag of his teeth along your nipple causes your entire body to jolt. Your pussy clenching around nothing when his heavy gaze finds your lidded one through the wisps of his purple hair. God, it looks so fucking good on him. The memory of you two fucking each other close to unconsciousness the first day you saw him sporting it is a fond one and, makes for phenomenal spank bank material when he's too busy to let you bounce on his cock or fold you in half. Not one to be outdone, however, your hands drift from where they'd been clingy to his ridiculously hot shoulders (seriously, you never knew shoulders could be this attractive) to palm his biceps greedily. Changbin knows what his arms do to you. He knows just how stupid they make you and, you're 99% sure he wore this shirt that clings to him like a second layer of skin for that reason. 

It's so incredibly easy to lose yourself in the ministrations of his mouth and his hand and his delectable body. To lose yourself in him. Goosebumps rise in his wake as one of his hands hurriedly moves down your overheated body until it reaches the waistband of your tiny shorts. He isn't the only one who's picked up on a weakness or four during the months you've been frequenting each others’ beds. You learned fairly quickly that Changbin is obsessed with your ass and thighs and, will attach himself to them whenever you give him the chance. It's done wonders for your confidence.  

You'd pout at him for freeing your nipple from his mouth if he wasn't speeding his way down your body in record time. Every place he presses a wet, hurried kiss into burns and you know you don't really have any ground to complain because anticipation simmers in your veins when he helps you get rid of your shorts and discard them unceremoniously onto his floor. His eagerness might be your favourite characteristic of his, actually. He really acts like if he doesn't get his mouth on your pussy, he'll simply perish. Evidenced by the way his hungry gaze locks onto your dripping folds and he makes himself comfortable on his stomach. If your clit throbs at the sight of his arms flexing as they grip your spread thighs, that's between you and yourself. 

“You know, you never have to win a bet in order for me to eat you out,” he says, voice hoarse and heavy, the faintest hints of his breath hitting your bare pussy prompting your thighs to quiver. Glancing down at him, it takes a herculean amount of effort not to just grip him by his roots and shove him into you but, you persist, “I know,” you breathe, your fingers lacing themselves in his hair and toying with it, “but, it feels even better when you do it after I've won one of our little bets,” you finish with lopsided smile that you're certain is dripping with smugness. 

The whimper that escapes his plush lips is almost as satisfying as finally feeling him touch you. Changbin is excited and messy when he eats you out. He does it without abandon and without much build up. His fingers are determined to leave themselves imprinted into your thighs with how harshly he's holding onto you. His display of strength fueling you to tighten your grip in his hair and tilt your hips until there's virtually nowhere for him to go. Not that he'd want to go anywhere else based on the way he lavishes your clit with licks and his spit. The vibrations from his groans adds to the tension building in your entire body, shuddering moans of his name and an array of colourful curse words spilling from your lips. 

Your grip on his hair grows harsher when he sucks on your clit, albeit gently. If the pain is too much for him, he doesn't show you any indication of that. If anything, his mouth is even more determined and he drags you closer to him. You've always wondered in the back of your mind if just watching how strong he is would be enough to make you cum. You should really test that hypothesis one day. If nothing else, it would breed interesting results. 

His tongue presses into your clit in time with one of his sucks, forcing you to focus your attention back on the very hot man smearing your wetness on his face while the character selection screen watches on. His eyes haven't left you once. The lust in them is palpable and, your stomach twists pleasantly with the knowledge that he wants you just as much as you always want him. Even as your hold of his beautiful hair grows more frantic and harsh. Even as he uses his strength to hold you down so that he can make out with your pussy to his heart's content. Even when your own eyes flutter shut and the waves grow increasingly higher. His eyes never stop watching you. 

You're almost certain that and a hard press of his tongue are eventually what do you in. 

Changbin is never one to quit. He keeps kissing and lapping at you even through your oragsm, although not nearly as intensely as he was a minute ago. The buzz you feel to the very tips of your fingers is prolonged every time his soft lips press themselves into you and he loudly moans into your dripping folds. It's only when you weakly pull at his strands and tiredly call his name that he finally relents. Leaving your clit with a final kiss that makes you giggle. He truly loves to do the most. 

“Come here,” you gently command and he follows willingly. You kiss him lazily. Your tongue in search of every bit of your taste on his. Hands leisurely feeling as much of his firm torso and plump ass as they can. You smile into him when he jumps as your hands make their way under his too-tight shirt. Still, he lets you peel him out of it. Only separating from your mouth briefly so he can toss it somewhere to be forgotten about until after the two of you have exhausted each other. 

The sight of his bare chest causes your slick walls to clamp down painfully around nothing. The outline of his thick cock through the sweats low on his hips makes you realise, rather viscerally, just how empty you are and how much you'd very much like to be filled. Now. 

“What are you–” 

His question dies on his tongue when you successfully maneuver yourself onto all fours. His quiet ‘fuck’ brings a smile to your face. It's always fun using his weaknesses against him. 

“You look shit, you look so hot like this,” he practically whines, shuffling behind you in record time. Based on the rustling of his sweats and the lack of clothing joining the mess on his floor, you assume he just haphazardly tugged them down enough to free his cock. The image causing saliva to pool in your mouth and more of your wetness to trickle down your sticky, inner thighs. 

“That's very sweet of you to say, baby,” you coo, shooting him a look over your shoulder that prompts his cock to jump. Cute. “Now are you just going to stare at my ass or are you planning to actually fuck me?” You ask with a saccharine edge to your tone, swaying your hips for good measure. 

You bite down on your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling too hard at his overeagerness. He shuffles closer to you in record time, placing a warm, firm hand on your hip while the other guides his fat tip to your pulsing hole. Whatever amusement you were feeling quickly dissipates when he starts to push into you. His hand shaking with every inch of himself he sinks into you. The stretch is always so fucking good with Changbin. Despite who knows how many times you've let him split you open, the first few strokes always take a bit of adjusting. 

“How are you always so tight?” He gasps out when his thighs finally meet the backs of yours. Both of his hands grabbing your hips fiercely in an attempt to ground himself as he shallowly thrusts into you. “And so fucking wet,” he groans, his entire body vibrating with the effort it takes not to cum immediately. You've learned that Changbin's stamina is simultaneously impressive and terrible. Terrible in that it honestly doesn't take all that much to make him cum. And impressive in that it only takes a few minutes until he's hard and ready to go again. It adds to the myriad of reasons he's so fun to fuck. 

“I'll tell you when you tell me how your cock always fills me ah, Binnie,” you mewl in response, your lashes fluttering when he picks up his pace and starts to stretch you out properly. His only response is a guttural moan and snap of his hips that forces you forward onto his couch's armrest. The smile on your face must look delirious with how fantastic he's making you feel, down to the very tips of your toes. You love when he gets desperate. Your walls sporadically clamping down on him with every ramble he mutters into the skin of your back and the sweaty, hard hold he maintains of you. 

“Fuck,” he gasps when you intentionally tighten around him and push your ass back onto him, “You're so–I'm–I'm close,” he heaves into your skin. His sweat drenched hair tickling your skin and his arms flexing around you with the effort it takes for him not to just cum into your perfect pussy. The constant twitching of his cock inside you is delicious and you feel like a woman possessed. 

“But Binnie,” you whine with a pout for good measure, batting your eyes at him over your shoulder, “It was just getting so good. You know I love when you fuck me with this fat cock of yours,” you emphasise your point by pressing back against him. A cocktail of desire and delight sitting in the pit of your stomach watching the way his entire body shudders and said fat cock twitches non-stop. 

“Don't you want to make me cum on it, bunny?” 

And just like he snaps within an instant. 

Your moans are swallowed by the fabric of his couch, fingers clawing into the material as the obscene noises of his skin slapping against your and his cock bullying your pussy echo through his living room. But your favourite part is always the sounds. His deep moans intertwined with his fucked out whimpers always make you throb in the best, most lust-induced way possible. The haziness clouding your brain makes it difficult to catch everything he imprints into your skin but, what does hit your ears is more than enough to send one of your hands between your thighs and draw frenzied circles into your swollen clit. 

He crumbles first with a broken, slurred moan of your name. His arms keeping you pressed to his hot, sweaty chest as his cock unloads rope after rope of cum into your more than ready pussy. The whines and jolts of his hips, pushing his release as deeply as he can into you, are what spark your own toe-curling orgasm. Well, that and a little help from your more-than-likely-pruney fingers. His grip on you tightens as your walls milk him for whatever he has left. You wouldn't be shocked if his hold on you was the only thing keeping you from completely floating up into the clouds. 

For a moment, your respective, laboured breaths are the only sounds in his living room (besides the long forgotten Mario Kart, obviously). Changbin, to no one's surprise, recovers first and pulls out of you as gently as he can. You always hate this part. Still, you cringe a little when he does. He's still for a second after that and you feel a smile splitting your face in half. 

“I can feel you staring,” you mutter, turning your head to look at him. There's no hint of shame to be found on his face and it just makes you smile harder. 

“Well obviously,” he responds with a huff, “I have a very hot woman on my couch who just let me cum inside of her. Of course I'm going to stare,” he says as though you asked him the most basic question he's ever heard. 

“You're so unserious,” you snort. 

“That's why you like me so much,” he retorts with an incredibly cheesy eyebrow wiggle. 

Well, he's not wrong. 

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[prettiestlovergirl]

hii! its tots fine if no but could you maybe do some fluff with basketball player luke and like him tryinh to teach you how to play?🙈

i read basketball & fluff and my one tree hill obsessed heart started singing. YES, ABSOLUTELY I CAN DO THIS <3333 have to preface this by saying that i know like nothing about basketball, though. i am a strictly baseball-hockey girl myself sdjfhskdjfh. my knowledge is limited but i will do my best, hehe. she's short and sweet. enjoy, my lovely! 𓆩♡𓆪

"you might be the worst player i have ever seen, and i once watched grover try to play." your boyfriend, luke castellan, chuckled unhelpfully from behind you.

you and luke had been going out for a couple of months now and honestly? you'd never been happier. he'd made you feel so welcome your first week of camp and every day since, he'd made you feel safe and cared for.

you were basically luke's dream girl. you were funny, caring, charming, and you had very quickly become his safe space. your one big flaw, however, was that you couldn't play basketball for shit.

the two of you had been playing horse on the camp court and you were failing... miserably. luke already had H-O-R-S and you... had no letters. yeah, you were that bad.

"in the words of annabeth: statistically speaking, you should have at least gotten one by now." he grinned, his smile only growing wider when you turned around to glare at him.

"oh, fuck off! not all of us are basketball superstars!" you huffed, but you couldn't help but laugh along with him. this was part of why you cared about him so much, he could always make you laugh despite yourself.

"if this is the best you can do, i don't think we can see each other anymore. makes me look bad." he laughed, quickly getting up from the bench he was on to avoid getting hit with the ball you tossed at him.

"i'm kidding, i'm kidding! c'mere." he laughed, beckoning you toward him with that easy smile you loved. "i can't do it, basketball is not one of my many skills! quit on me, castellan, i'll only slow you down." you sighed dramatically.

"alright, drama queen. you can, just trust me." luke stated, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. "square your shoulders, to the basket." he instructed, watching as you begrudgingly did as told, lips formed in a little pout.

"now, you gotta bring the ball up right past your nose like this, okay?" he instructed, demonstrating exactly what to do with his own arms, ball in hand as you went through the motion with him.

"bend your knees a little." he corrected, holding the ball out for you to grab before stepping behind you. "relax your hips..." he murmured, gently placing his hands on you and leaning down to your ear to make sure you could still hear him... and also to be a romantic sap.

"and... just shoot." he stated, eyes watching you while you eyed the hoop suspiciously. "that's it? just shoot?" you asked, voice a little breathy as you turned your head a bit to look at him. "just shoot." he repeated with a nod.

"well, here goes nothing." you sighed, bending your knees a little more before bending a little and letting the ball fly out of your hands and... right into the net.

"holy shit" you breathed, grin breaking out onto your face as you turned to look at your smiling, slightly cocky boyfriend. "told you so." he smirked, grunting a bit on impact as you flung your arms around him with a laugh.

"okay, maybe you can be right sometimes." you relented, sighing dramatically like it was the hardest thing you'd ever have to admit. "that's very big of you, babe." he chuckled, eyes shining with adoration as he looked at you.

"now, do it a few more times and maybe you'll catch up to me." luke hummed, jogging leisurely to go pick up the ball from it's spot by the bench.

"nuh uh, castellan. i'm going out on the high of making that one shot, i'm retired, 'm too good to keep going." you stated, shaking your head and turning on your heel to leave.

"quitter!" he called after you, grinning as you simply flipped him off and kept walking. "see you before dinner?"

"duh, you owe me a victory kiss."

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

[mightbeimpossiblenotto]

Song — Oct 5 — @rosekillermicrofic — 1,352 words — Warnings: none I think

Evan, personally, hated the Gryffindor parties, but he attended because Regulus wanted to attend, and therefore their entire friend group had to go with him to support him. They were too loud, there was too much red and gold all around the common room, and too many kind people trying to talk to him, despite his very clear aura displaying do-not-talk-to-me. He typically spent all of his time at these parties hanging quite pathetically off his friends, Dorcas or Pandora or Barty. Regulus was always off with Potter.

It was Barty, that night. Dorcas had wandered off with none other than Marlene McKinnon, and Evan wouldn’t be surprised if they were found together much, much later, with rumpled clothing and swollen lips. Pandora had disappeared entirely, but that wasn’t uncommon for her in a normal situation, let alone a Gryffindor party. So, Evan stuck with Barty, which wasn’t hard as he had positioned himself next to the magicked muggle radio, spelled to play any song the spellcaster wanted. He was hosting a karaoke night of sorts; students came up to him with a song request, he played it, and the student then performed for a small crowd in the room, complete with cheering from the crowd and a broomstick held like a microphone stand by the performer.

Evan was surprised, though, when Barty got up to perform one of the songs himself. He turned back to Evan, sitting alone on the sofa now, to give him a wink.

“Save my seat for me, Rosie,” Barty purred, and Evan did nothing except nod stupidly. The opening to the song had begun playing, and he was still trying to figure out what the hell Barty was up to. Barty had spun to face the room, taking up the broomstick-microphone, and locked eyes with Evan.

I could be the one, or your new addiction

It's all in my head but I want non-fiction

I don't want the world, but I'll take this city

Who can blame a girl? Call me hot, not pretty

Evan didn’t recognize the song, which made his confusion more palpable. Barty was singing directly to him, that much was clear, but Evan didn’t know what Barty wanted from him. He could feel the stares of other students who had noticed Barty’s dedication to him, but he ignored them.

Baby, do you like this beat?

I made it so you'd dance with me

It's like a hundred ninety-nine degrees

When you're doing it with me, doing it with me

Against his will, Evan flushed. Barty couldn’t possibly mean that he wanted to be with Evan, his best friend, practically his brother to him. It was something Evan had considered, of course (how could he not? — he wasn’t blind, and Barty was the hottest thing on Earth), but he had promptly shoved down any feelings because he knew they wouldn’t be reciprocated. He was starting to feel like Barty may be teasing him.

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

Snap and clap and touch your toes

Raise your hands, now body roll

Dance it out, you're hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

Snap and clap and touch your toes

Raise your hands, now body roll

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

During the chorus, most of the girls in the room got up to do some sort of dance with their arms, forming the letters that Barty was singing. Evan barely saw them, though — his eyes were locked on Barty. He was swaying his hips to the beat, showing off his slutty waist that Evan usually tried his hardest not to notice. But Barty was wearing a tight black t-shirt with low-rise black jeans, which had been driving Evan crazy all night.

Well, I woke up alone staring at my ceiling

I try not to care but it hurts my feelings

You don't have to stare, come here, get with it

No one's touched me there in a damn hot minute

Barty winked at Evan on the last line, smiling salaciously, and Evan summoned the strength not to melt right into the couch. He knew that was true — that Barty hadn’t slept with anyone lately. Probably because Evan hadn’t been able to hide how angry it made him to see Barty paying attention to anyone else. It made him furious, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that he lived in the same room as Barty and had to see every latest conquest out the door the following morning. But Barty had given up his string of lovers, instead choosing to spend his time reading in the common room with Evan or sneaking off to the kitchens to bring them back a snack.

And baby, don't you like this beat?

I made it so you'd sleep with me

It's like a hundred ninety-nine degrees

When you're doing it with me, doing it with me

On the sleep-with-me line, Barty raised his eye brows significantly at Evan. And, well, there was no misinterpreting the meaning of that one — clearly, Barty wanted to fuck him. And Evan had reason to believe it was more than that. Why else would Barty be spending all of his free time with Evan? He felt the blush from earlier darken, spreading to his ears and down his neck. He hated all of the attention, but watching Barty bask in it was doing it for him.

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

Snap and clap and touch your toes

Raise your hands, now body roll

Dance it out, you're hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

Snap and clap and touch your toes

Raise your hands, now body roll

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

Barty joined the girls in their cheer routine, raising his own arms to form the letters of the chorus. It was unfair the way he made a simple dance look erotic. Despite enjoying the performance, Evan was wishing it would be over with already. He wanted to take Barty directly back to the dorm, while Regulus and their other friends were too busy here at the party.

What's it take to get your number?

What's it take to bring you home?

Hurry up, it's time for supper

Order up, I'm hot to go

What's it take to get your number?

Hurry up, it's getting cold

Hurry up, it's time for supper

Order up, I'm hot to go

Well, Evan was beyond ready to fucking “order up” Barty and get him “hot to go,” but the song still wasn’t over. Evan could have groaned as he watched the girls lining up to perform the dance routine again to the chorus. All Evan could do was hope that this was the final refrain and the song would end soon. Already, he was imagining Barty’s mouth on his skin, his hands under Barty’s clothes.

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

H-O-T-T-O-G-O

You can take me hot to go

Finally, the melody of the song wrapped up, and Evan sat forward, readying himself to get up off the couch even as Barty walked over to him. As the outro of the song played, Barty spoke.

“Whew, it's hot here,” Barty said, fanning himself with one hand. “Is anyone else hot?”

Evan felt very warm, indeed, but he didn’t give Barty the satisfaction of getting what he wanted. Instead, Evan was sure he was glaring at Barty. But seeing as Barty was grinning right back at him, Evan was pretty sure he knew exactly the effect he had on Evan.

“Woo, you coming home with me?” Barty asked, finally reaching the couch Evan was still sitting on. He waited a beat, and when Evan didn’t stand, he swung a leg over to straddle Evan on the couch. Suddenly, for Evan, all of the other people in the room had disappeared. All that mattered in the world was Barty. “Okay, it's hot. I'll call the cab.”