#not really but for tonight this is the mood lads

[thehumancentickler]

Anyways.

[yandere-romanticaa]

I really enjoy the idea of a man like Ayato going into a tea house for some fine entertainment. The entire event is primarily disguised as a business dinner, but the Yashiro Commissioner knows better. He has been rubbing shoulders with this type crowd ever since he was a tiny lad. Besides, the eagerness which his dignitaries display is far too obvious to hide. They cover their grins behind their long sleeves, eyes gleaming with excitement and thrill at the thought of tonight's prospects.

Truthfully, Ayato was just as much of a savage beast as the men around him.

The key difference was that he was better in concealing his more perverse nature.

With a serene smile Ayato enjoyed the show, his eyes never leaving your figure, not even once. It was obvious that you were new amongst the girls, their saccharine grins far too picture perfect to be natural. You swished and swayed your body to the soft drums, making extra sure to highlight the best parts of your body as the table filled with customers in front of you cheered each of you all on, happily tossing shiny Mora in the air.

It was so hard to focus under Ayato's gaze. You knew who he was, everyone knew who he was. After the dance the ladies from the establishment cornered you, asking you questions on what the nature of your relationship was with the handsome commissioner. They advised you to stay docile and sweet in his presence, that you should never make a fuss and by doing so, not only will you never go hungry ever again, all sorts of doors could open up as well.

As expected, Ayato had ended up summoning you for a private show.

It was a very hush hush affair, with him being the only person in the room. He greeted you with tea, cakes and all sorts of tiny gifts which he had prepared before hand. By the end of the evening, you were no better than honey in his hands, hanging onto his every single word and whim, catering to his every desire he could come up with, no matter how small or silly it may be.

Ayato found himself enjoying how free you were, how open you were with your heart and desires. It was refreshing, like sweet spring air after a dark storm and he soaked it up like a sponge. The entire nature of this relationship was also beyond thrilling as it allowed him to unwind after a long and hard day of work.

However, he knew better than anyone that most things in life don't last forever. He could continue to play coy only for so long and since Ayato was not in the mood for games, he decided the best course of action to take was to just buy you out. He had the money and you would surely enjoy the comfort he would provide for you.

It was an ideal situation, truly.

He sat you down and shared his plans, eager to see a happy grin on your face as you chant Thank you, Master Ayato! over and over, as you tripped on your feet in a rush to embrace him.

Ayato typically likes surprises. They keep things fun and interesting, but the one you told him was anything but.

With confidence, you told him that you had no desire to stop working in this place, shamelessly admitting that you enjoyed making the various clientele satisfied with your services, regardless of how dirty it could be. The freedom, the pleasure, it was too much to give up.

His lips formed into a wicked little grin as his felt his heart beat through his chest. In a way, he admired your attitude. It was dazzling just how bold you had become and how you were so unafraid of him.

After that night, you figured that you would never see the man ever again.

Days went on, customers came and went and there was no sign of your dazzling commissioner. That did not stop the whispers and rumors from spreading like wildfire, particularly from the more devious or jealous women which you worked with. Venom would coat their words as they would eagerly remind you of just how you had cost them one of, if not the best customer in the entire nation.

It was difficult to tell whether or not they were celebrating this fact of it they were legitimately upset with you. However, this storm would soon come to pass, or so you had hoped. You always found it a little odd how Master Ayato had just left you to your own devices, how he hadn't bothered to pull any strings or just flat out threaten you for disobeying him. Most men in his position could afford such a luxury because the fallout would be next to none.

It would cost him nothing to just toss you onto the cold, dark street like a wet dog. He would not even need to break a single sweat to make you fall apart.

But your pride was too strong. It burned deep in your belly, the desire to spread your wings and do as you wished. Mora was the key to solve all of your problems and in due time, more than enough was going to be saved for any possible endeavor of yours. On several different occasions you had confessed to Master Ayato that you had wished to buy better make up, prettier clothes and a better house than you had already owned. Not to mention your unyielding wish to explore the world, to see step foot into each nation and see their glory with your own two eyes. You wished to sip on fine Mondstatd wine, to see the bright lanterns in Liyue, to watch the night sky in Snezhnaya.

And he had listened patiently to you, soaking in each word. He would pat you across the head or pinch your cheek and mutter how one day he was sure that all of that would come true.

People always did say that a person ought to be careful for what they wished for. Why?

Because they might just get their wishes granted.

On a chilly autumn morning, shouts rang loudly from outside of your establishment. Confusion was written on everyone's faces as they stared at the main entrance, trying to figure out who was causing the commotion.

Suddenly, the door was kicked down with such brute force that you could not even gasp, the wood simply breaking away from the hinges. Soldiers in armour filled the room, weapons in hand as they shouted about some arrests being made.

It was hard to focus with the commotion around you.

The soldiers were brutes, kicking away and smashing everything in sight. Fine paintings and scrolls were all over the floor like trash, the dashing kimonos and dresses snatched from their stations by feebleminded men, none of which cared for your safety and security.

Cries filled the air the head of the establishment was dragged by two soldiers, their arms wrapped tightly around the woman as she begged and pleaded for mercy, forgiveness and everything in-between. The pristine makeup she had so tirelessly worked on was but a fleeting memory, leaving only large traces of inky black mascara falling down her pale cheeks and messy blood red lipstick strewn across her tiny lips.

It felt like a nightmare come to life.

Like a vicious snake, a handsome man in white garbs had slithered inside the room, his steps so quiet that not even the wind could sense him coming. He clapped a few times, the pristine glove on his hands shining underneath the morning sun as the Yashiro Commissioner stared down each person in the room, his sea blue eyes laced with mock pity.

His voice filled the air to a suffocating degree, so much so that it made you choke on your own breath. There he was, Kamisato Ayato in the flesh, standing proud and strong, like an untouchable arrow seeking its target. He was so charming, so convincing that if you hadn't known better, you too would have bought into his lies.

How could someone so handsome be so adept at spewing such filth? Even as he accused your boss of various crimes, his voice was nothing less than kind and concerned.

He felt less like a man and more like a god. A twisted blend of mercy and cruelty who had been brought down from the heavens to cast judgment on mere mortals such as yourself.

In a flash, his eyes locked in on yours and it was all too clear on what he was aiming for. His gaze was deceitfully sweet but underneath that handsome gaze was an ever growing desire to seek, trap and possibly even maim.

Ayato always thought of himself as at least somewhat of a civil man but not even he was immune to the most basic of human desires. Each man who walked the earth was a beast, it just took some longer to wake up and realize that truth.

Kamisato Ayato had bared his fangs and shot you a grin, not even shying away from his true motives. He never lied when he said that he thought that your dreams were going to come true one day.

He merely left out the part that he was going to be the one who would get you there.

[pendingnomdeplume]

hold me hard and mellow pairing: hozier x female!reader rating: explicit (18+) tags: Miscommunications/Misunderstandings, Pining, Drunk Flirting, Drunk Sex words: 4.0k

[Read it on AO3]

title from Pillowtalk by Zayn divider by: sylusz

Though your 30th birthday was months ago, it’s difficult to ignore some of the changes that aging has brought on. You’ve noticed a few new gray hairs sprouting where there were none before, and your cheeks have lost some of the cherubic plumpness that made you look like a high schooler attempting to swindle shops for alcohol every time you wanted a beer. These changes don’t bother you. In fact, you’re excited to look a little bit older, more like your actual age. 

What catches your attention is entirely different. Something embarrassing, really. Something that you’ve been mildly self-conscious of while living in a giant, moving tin can with several other people and absolutely no privacy.

It takes exactly one Google search to confirm what you already started to suspect. 

Why am I so aroused all the time??? 

The question marks aren’t necessary, but they feel right given how perplexed you are by this development. What’s returned is page after page of different threads and message boards, all filled with women over the age of 30 confirming that, yes, their libido also increased with age. In fact, it seems fairly commonplace for women to experience their sexual peak a little bit later in life. 

While you’re relieved that this phenomenon isn’t unusual, you’re still frustrated by the fact that you feel insatiable. There’s absolutely no time to take care of yourself as often as you’d like, no space with enough privacy to even try. Your bunk on the tour bus is your only sanctuary, but even then, the curtains are easily ripped from their velcro tabs, and someone is always awake when you’re at your most desperate. 

Hotel rooms aren’t any better. You always end up sharing the space, which you can’t begrudge anyone for, really. It’s a matter of pragmatism made up for by all of the other perks of touring with Hozier—or, Andrew, as he prefers from colleagues. 

Therein lies your other issue: Andrew is currently the bane of your entire fucking existence. Not for any malicious reason, it’s just…well, you have eyes, and he’s an attractive lad. A kind lad. Funny, sensitive, talented—the list goes on. But he’s Hozier, for Christ’s sake. If he’s not a household name by now, he’s very well on his way with the release of “Too Sweet,” perhaps to his chagrin. 

Honestly, it’s just a silly crush that you would handle a lot better were it not for the fact that you live within 20 feet of the man constantly. You’re either singing on stage behind him, or sitting a stone’s throw away from him on the bus. The only reprieve you get is on hotel nights, but even then, you’ve been dragged out for dinner and drinks on several occasions, somehow always ending up either seated directly across from him or squished into a booth next to him. 

Recently, you’ve been trying to maintain a reasonable distance. You’ve stepped out of rooms he’s entered, hidden around corners as he strides by, and recused yourself from group outings for your own peace. It’s not as though anything would ever come of your crush, and it’s better to maintain space than force yourself into proximity to him and suffer at the hands of your own libido.

Honestly, you never expected him to take notice. Sure, he’s kind to you, and he’ll strike up a conversation with you when he’s in the mood, but otherwise, you’ve always thought of yourself as inconsequential. Not like Alex or Rory who have been with him since the beginning. Not like Larissa who enmeshes themself into the fold with their radiating energy and charm, nor Kamilah who is the human embodiment of glee.  

Tonight is another night of planned avoidance. The group is getting ready to go out for dinner and enjoy their evening off before the show the next night. You’ve already declined the invitation in the group chat, already fended off Joy and Mel who follow you with exaggerated pouts and pleas. In the end, they respect your decision to stay behind and promise to bring something back for you. 

With the next few hours to yourself, you curl up in bed and crack open the same book you’ve been attempting to read for the past few days—some fantasy novel with a gratuitous amount of steamy, spicy scenes that are…a little silly, if you’re being honest. But it’s fun, nearly brainless entertainment. A dessert of a novel, or perhaps the after-dinner mint. 

A quiet, polite knock at the door startles you out of your reading not even 20 minutes later. You wonder if it’s Mel, if she forgot her damn room key again, and hop out of bed in your pajama shorts and tank top without another thought. 

When you open the door, you’re surprised to find that it’s Andrew on the other side, hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie. 

“Oh, hey!” You greet, befuddlement obvious in your voice. “What’re you doing here? I thought you went out with everyone else.”

Andrew shakes his head. “Nah, I wasn’t feeling up for it tonight.”

“Ah.” There’s a few beats of silence as you stare at each other, until you finally ask, “Did…did you need something, or…?” Because, really, why the fuck is he here?

He’s quiet as he studies you, head tilting to one side. You’ve never been on the receiving end of his scrutiny before—at least, not that you’re aware of, anyway. It’s slightly intimidating, mostly because of his stature, but also because his attention is solely directed on you in a way you haven’t experienced previously. 

Finally, he lets out a little huff and asks, “Are you avoiding me?” 

Your eyes go wide and your mouth drops open. You quickly snap it shut, a flush already making your ears go hot.

“No! Of course not! What gave you that impression?” Lies, lies, lies, but what are you supposed to say to a question like that? 

Andrew looks rightfully unconvinced. “I just…haven’t seen you around lately.” 

He noticed?

“Right, yeah, uh…” You flounder for a response, rubbing your clammy palms against your shorts. “I’ve just—I’ve been busy, y’know? With stuff. And things.” 

“Stuff and things,” Andrew repeats back slowly with a half-smile. 

You nod, smile tightly. “Mhm. Stuff and things. Matters, even! And, um…affairs. States of affairs.” 

“Of course.” He nods sagely. “It just seems like one of those very important matters that you’re tending to might be avoiding me.” 

“Oh,” you reply lamely. “It’s—I’m not—” You’re beginning to panic, trying to think of anything to get out of this conversation that doesn’t involve slamming the door in his face. 

“Because you haven’t gone out with us in weeks,” he continues as you stammer. “And you’re fairly quick to leave any room that I enter. Or, is that just a coincidence?” 

Annoyance buzzes beneath your skin.

“There have been stranger occurrences, I’m sure,” you reply evenly.

“Right. I’m sure.” He pulls a grimace of a smile, lips pressed together tightly as he knocks once on the doorframe before taking a step back. He almost looks dejected, though that’s probably just wishful thinking on your part. 

You’re ready to close the door on him, ready to curl back up under the blankets and try to sleep off your embarrassment. Just as he begins to turn away, Andrew stops and turns back to you with a curious half-smile. 

“Would you like to go down to the hotel bar with me, then?” 

You blink. “What?” 

He shrugs easily, assuredly. “Since you’re not avoiding me, come down and get a drink with me.”

Anxiety grips your heart as your stomach flutters. It’s a bad idea. A terrible one, even. Being alone with Andrew under the influence of alcohol? You can only imagine that being a one-way ticket to a massive disaster that ends with you getting kicked off the tour entirely. God knows what dumb shite will spill out of your mouth the moment you start to feel loose.

His smile turns coy as he tilts his head. “Or I could always bring something up for you. They’ve a lovely wine list here.” 

You swallow, searching his face as he raises a questioning eyebrow at you. 

Finally, you sigh and let your head rest against the doorframe. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” 

Andrew laughs, shakes his head. “No. Unless you tell me to fuck off, of course.”

You can’t help but smile and shake your own head. “I would never. Can you give me a few minutes, though? I can’t go down looking like this.” 

He waits outside like a gentleman, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. He smiles as you reappear in clothes more suitable for a public setting—merely a hoodie and a pair of jeans, but it’s good enough for a booth in the dimly lit, fairly empty hotel bar. 

You order a glass of blush wine, smirking when Andrew requests the bottle for the table instead. 

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” It’s light, airy, asked as a joke and nothing more. 

Andrew looks at you with a sly tilt of his head. “Trying to find reasons for you to stay a while.”

The answer stuns you, your face going pink as you avoid the waiter’s amused expression.

He orders a glass of Woodford Reserve, neat. When the waiter drops it off, he holds it out to you for a taste, and you hold out your wine glass in turn. The whiskey is bitter, spicy, and makes you cough into the crook of  your elbow as the amber liquid burns all the way down to your stomach. 

“Good lord,” you splutter as he grins at you. “That’ll put some hair on your chest.”

You study him as he sips from your wine glass, as he tilts his head in thought and nods to himself assuredly before commenting that it’s actually quite good despite blush wines not being his thing.

“So…” you start, hands folded on the table as you level his stare. 

“So…” he echoes as he rests his head in his hand, elbow planted firmly on the table. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

The question startles a laugh out of you. “Straight to it then, yeah?” 

He shrugs, takes another sip of his drink. “It’s not typically how I operate.” 

“Oh?” You tilt your head, an exaggeration of his own mannerisms. “And what makes me the lucky one to be graced with your focus and attention?”

Andrew chuckles. “I think you’re trying to dodge my question.” 

“And I think you’re trying to dodge mine.” You smirk before taking a sip from your glass. 

There’s a brief pause as he studies your face. “Honestly? I think my ego is a little bruised.” You raise an eyebrow at him, and he continues, “You can’t deny that you’re avoiding me, yeah? It’s been fairly obvious. And I…well, you've been on my mind, is all.” 

Once again, you’re stunned into silence. He’d been thinking of you? Apparently so, and often enough that he’s not only noticed the distance you’ve maintained from him, he’s actually hurt by it. The thought of hurting him at all makes your chest feel tight.

“It’s not personal,” you say weakly. 

“Feels personal,” he retorts. “Have I done something or said something to…I don’t know, make you not want to be around me?”

“No! No. Of course not.”

Andrew frowns. “I haven’t made you uncomfortable, have I? I try not to be too forward, but I suppose it’s the Pisces in me. Or something. Alex told me that once, I don’t know.” 

You blink. “You haven’t made me uncomfortable.” Not in the way he would expect, anyway.

His cheeks turn rosy as he runs a hand through his curls. He seems almost frustrated, as though your answers perplex him further. Andrew takes another sip from his drink, and you decide to follow suit, gulping down the last of your wine. Before you can even reach for it, Andrew takes the bottle and begins to pour a generous refill into your glass. 

You meet his eyes as he sets the bottle back down with a thud before bringing the glass up to your lips again. He watches you carefully, unable to maintain your stare as his eyes flit to your mouth, your throat, your fingers carefully curled around the stem. 

“Good. Grand.” He sighs. “If I haven’t made you…I mean, is there something else, then?” Your puzzled expression makes him frown. “Or, someone else, rather?”

The gears slowly begin to turn in your mind.

“Someone…else?” 

It must be your tone, the obvious confusion in your voice that clues him in, a look of understanding softening his features. Embarrassment quickly overtakes him as he covers his reddening face with a nervous laugh. 

“You—you’ve no idea what I’m—? Oh, Jesus…” He avoids your eyes as he slams back the remainder of his drink in one go, then sets the glass down with a wince and a grimace. “I think we may have a misunderstanding here.” 

Your own embarrassment has you speechless, mouth opening and closing as you process what he’s just said. Surely, he didn’t mean…? No, he couldn’t mean that, because things like that don’t just happen, at least not to you. Not when it’s Andrew of all people. 

It’s the wine that grips your throat and controls your voice, and you laugh incredulously as you ask, “Oh my god, do you have a crush on me?”

He groans into his hands, then smooths them back over his hair before collapsing onto the table with a laugh. His face is tinged pink with drunken embarrassment, and he smiles at you before turning to hide his face in his arms. 

“In no uncertain terms,” comes his muffled reply.

You laugh again and cover your own face, unsure of what to say. Your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest, your pulse thumping as a familiar heat begins to pool in your stomach. 

After a moment, Andrew lifts his head again and pulls himself from the table until he’s upright once more. His eyes are tinged red now, bloodshot from booze. Your own head swims as you rest your head in your hand and smile at him warmly. 

“D’you want to know why I was avoiding you?” You avert your gaze to the table, then sigh before the words tumble from your mouth. “Because you’re too fucking attractive. How am I supposed to get anything done when you walk around looking like this?”

He splutters a laugh as you gesture vaguely towards him. “Oh?” 

The wine bottle is nearly empty now as you encourage him to pour some for himself in the empty glass on the table.

“It’s terribly inconsiderate of you,” you hum, and you catch his grin before he takes a drink.

Andrew grins. “My apologies for being such a distraction. I’d no idea I caused such distress.” 

You chuckle and eye him coyly. “I wouldn’t necessarily call it distress.”

“What would you call it, then?”

“Hmm…” You scrunch your face as you pretend to think. “Intrigue, certainly...and the uncanny ability to make me—” 

“Anything else for you?” The waiter’s voice startles you both, and you whip your head up to look at him wondering how much of that he heard. If he’s heard anything, he doesn’t let on. Instead, he mostly looks bored, and you can see the black booklet in his hand that surely contains the check. 

Andrew is quick to take it and scribbles in his room number for the charge, nearly shoving the booklet back into the waiter’s hands with hasty thanks. 

You’re both drunk enough to make bad decisions that you know you’ll regret come morning, but it’s difficult to care about that when he’s pressing you back against the wall in the elevator and kissing you like you’re his only source of air. When his hands are all over you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“C’mon,” he murmurs as the doors open to let you onto his floor. 

You stumble over yourself with a whispered, “Shit!” as he pulls you over the threshold of his room, and he laughs and apologizes before flipping a light on. 

Andrew is a messy creature, and his room looks as though his overnight bag spontaneously exploded while he was out. It’s weirdly charming, another reminder that he is, in fact, just a regular fucking guy with standard quirks. 

A thrill runs through you when he kisses you again, softer this time as he cradles your face in his hands. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” The question is sudden, his eyes wide as he searches for any hint of doubt. 

You’re quiet for a moment as you turn the question over in your mind. Even in an inebriated state, he’s still so concerned about your comfort, your consent. It’s unsurprising given how anxious he seems in general, but it’s sweet all the same. 

Finally, you rest a hand on his arm and look up at him with a smirk. “What I was saying earlier, about you and intrigue…well, you have a knack for making me weak in the knees, amongst other things. It’s typically based on your proximity, though.” 

You see his mouth turn up in a half-smile just before he crowds closer to you, pulling you flush against him as you wrap your arms around his neck and laugh into another kiss. 

“I don’t normally do this,” he breathes just before moving to kiss along your neck. 

“I feel like I should be the one saying that.” You gasp when he bites down, not hard enough to cause any truly lasting damage, but enough to know that you’ll still be wearing his marks come morning. A thrilling thought, though you’re sure you’ll be mobbed by the ladies and Larissa for details later on. 

Your hoodie is in the way, impeding his access, and he steps away to tug at the hem until you’re helping him peel it off. He stares at your chest, clearly surprised by your lack of bra and the way your nipples pebble beneath the thin fabric of your tank top. 

“In my defense,” you say with a smirk, “I didn’t expect all of this to happen.”

He laughs quietly as he walks you back towards the bed. “You’ll hear no complaints from me.” 

The sheets are rumpled and easily kicked away as you shuffle back on the mattress. Andrew drops kisses along chest, teeth grazing your skin and leaving little imprints. You squeak when he shoves your shirt up roughly, and he throws an apologetic look your way. 

“Sorry, just a bit enthusiastic,” he muses. 

You laugh, feeling breathless as his hands wander along your newly bared skin. 

“You’ll hear no complaints from me.” 

His responding laugh— a low, warm sound, sweet as honey—makes you blush. You gasp when he gently bites your nipple just before taking it into his mouth. It sends a shiver through you as he moves to the other, and you squirm beneath him, almost glad that you’re too drunk to really be embarrassed at the moment. 

Once your jeans are off and tossed away, Andrew freezes, his eyes greedily taking in your nearly nude body before snapping back up to meet your stare. He dips a hand beneath the waistband of your panties—a simple black pair without any details or flair, because you didn’t expect to have Andrew’s hand shoved into them like this.

He seems surprised to find you an already slick mess, his fingers dipping easily into you before pulling them back to rub your clit in slow circles. 

“I told you,” you huff a harsh laugh that breaks into a small moan. “Weak in the knees, amongst other things.” 

Andrew’s grin is obscured by his hair that curtains his face. He continues to touch you slowly, methodically, while capturing you in a kiss and swallowing down every little sound that escapes you. 

He breaks the kiss with a small gasp and asks, “What do you—how do you want to—?”

You’re far too impatient for anything that isn’t his cock inside of you right fucking now. You’re aching, feeling empty in a way that you have so many times over the past few weeks. Except this time, the object of your affections is stumbling over himself to rummage through his bag after you ask about protection. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you muse as he approaches you again with something square in hand. 

“So are you,” he shoots back, and he watches in awe as you slip your underwear off and cast them aside without batting an eye, emboldened.

He licks his lips before saying weakly, “Oh, you’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?”

Andrew is far too impatient to remove everything, barely able to focus on even shoving his own jeans down and hastily rolling on a condom with shaky hands. 

The feeling as he presses into you is heavenly, so full, warm, and satisfying. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder as he sets an even pace. The slick sound of your arousal makes you blush, but it’s obvious how much it spurs him on, delighting in your body’s reaction to him, his touch, his everything.

Weeks of wishing and wanting, and now you can’t hold back your moans as he fucks you the way you’ve imagined. You can feel the way he stretches you as he fills you, and he gasps when you clench around him. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, eyes screwing shut as he takes a deep breath. 

You reach up and brush a stray curl from his face. “Are you okay?”

When he opens his eyes, he gives you a little smile and a nod. “Yeah, yes, grand,” he huffs, then lets his head fall forward until his forehead rests against your shoulder. “You feel so fucking good.” 

He grips your thigh and squeezes gently, a silent bid to get your legs around him. 

At first, he’s slow, taking his time as he kisses you between breathy laughs and whispered swears. It isn’t until you murmur, “You don’t have to treat me so preciously,” in his ear that he hums and shifts to press your legs further, damn near folding you in half. But it’s good, so fucking good, and you can barely form a thought as your eyes roll back and flutter as he picks up his pace.

And, Jesus, how are you already so close to your peak? Another testament to your seemingly insatiable desire. You cry out when he rubs a thumb against your clit roughly, out of sync with his thrusts as you press back and grind against his palm.

The stimulation is enough to send you tumbling over the edge. Tears blur your vision as you let out small, sobbing moans against his neck. Each wave of pleasure has you clenching down around him.  and then he’s snapping his hips one, two, three more times before groaning in your ear while his cock twitches with his release.

Andrew is quick to collect you into his arms after collapsing next to you in bed. He reaches blindly for a blanket to tug over both of you, seemingly more of a courtesy than anything. You allow yourself to relax into him, nuzzling his shoulder before settling with your head on his chest. 

“Wow,” he says after his breathing has evened, and he laughs quietly as he squeezes you. 

“Yeah,” you hum.

There’s another stretch of silence, and your eyes begin to feel heavy as you follow the pattern of his breathing, feel the rise and fall of his chest. 

Another small laugh from him stirs you, and you look up at him questioningly. 

“We’re going to feel fucking awful tomorrow, aren’t we?” 

“Oh, yeah.”

“Is a hungover breakfast a proper first date, d’you think?” 

You grin at him and lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Proper? No. But we haven’t done things by the book so far.”

[madridfangirl]

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fic)

Chapter 7

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. Mature Language in parts.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Would she make him change his ways? Even though she resists him every step of the way, would he fight all odds (& her) to have her in his life? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

.............................................................................................

Wednesday morning started off on a foul note for Jude. The team landed after a red eye flight & below is what he saw at 6:30 am. 

Ananya: Heyy. Listen, I am so sorry but I can’t make it tonight. NY office just got back and we have tons more to do. All hands on deck. Will be MIA most of today & tmrw. Hope you put something on your bruises. Take care & see ya soon! 

He groaned in frustration. Yesterday had been horrible & he was really looking forward to seeing her tonight. It was his primary motivation to get through the day. But the universe seemed to be conspiring against him.

He stayed in a pissy mood for a bit but sanity prevailed some time later. 

Jude: Heyy, it’s fine. Work is work. Go kick some ass. Lemme know if you get done soon ya?

His message remained unseen till 10:30 pm. She hadn’t come online. He knew, since he had checked more than a few times.

He was about to crash when his phone buzzed.

Ananya: Still in office. Will be a long night. How was your day?

He perked up immediately & grabbed his phone. 

Jude: Talk for a few mins?

Ananya: In conference room with folks, can’t step out.

Deflated, he fell back on the bed, trying to find a comfortable spot. All he needed was some attention from her tonight. For her to fuss over him like she had done yesterday. But alas. 

Jude: Day was ok I guess. Debriefed on the game, lads were being extra nice which was irritating but had a good chat with Boss. How was yours?

Ananya: Hectic, but this deal is so cool it’s blowing my mind.

Jude smiled for the first time today. Her ambition & drive was relatable. Admirable. And so so attractive. 

Ananya: Ok gotta go now. Ciao.

And just like that, his smile faded. 

Jude: Ciao. Eat something. C ya soon!

He twisted & turned in bed a few times. Finally, exhaustion took over and he drifted off to sleep.

Next day was worse, if that was even possible.

He again woke up irritated. The UK tabloids were going to run a trashy story about him & some girl. His team had been contacted for comments & the decision was to not entertain them at all. The story could drop any time now - that was the heads-up he had gotten.

Great, just what he needed.

The message that he wanted to see was not there. Not a single peep from Ananya. He scrolled through the previous messages, re-reading some. And then he froze.

She was going to see the article too. 

Such gossip pieces on him were not uncommon but he mostly ignored them earlier. As did his team. 

But this time, it was different. Because of her. 

He had to get ahead of the situation.

Jude: Morning dove. I know you are busy. Quick heads up - you may see a tabloid piece today about my ‘girlfriend’. It’s all bull ok? I will explain when we talk. 

Burying himself with work seemed like the best solution today. He went extra hard in the gym, pushing himself more, & then some. Letting his irritation be sucked out through sweat and sore muscles.

He was extra feisty in training, didn’t joke around & was super competitive in duels, earning all the applause of the coaching staff and some jeers from his teammates.

Cama and Vini teased him about his new girlfriend who he was apparently smitten by - the article was splashed all over social media by now. He evaded them after engaging in some superficial locker room banter.

Still no reply from her, even though she had seen the first message. 

Jude: (Link) - This is what I was referring to. Like I said, it’s bull. How’s your day going?

When the messages were still unread after 2 hours, he started getting jittery. And did something he wouldn’t have done had he been thinking with a clear head.

He called her, knowing fully well she was dying at work today.

The number was unreachable. He tried again. Same message.

The jitters got stronger. Of the zillion things he was capable of doing to mess this up, this shouldn’t have been it.

It was one of those moments when the house looked emptier. Felt lonelier. He missed his home in Birmingham. He wished his mom were here with him.

She had called him earlier today to check on him, & could tell something was off in his voice. She didn’t push, knowing that he wanted to be left to his own devices.

Boy, he could do with her hug right now.

It was 8:30 pm. He had done everything he could for the day. There was nothing else to busy himself with. His friends from the team were all otherwise occupied tonight. He had no other real, normal friends in the city - ones he trusted/liked enough to hang out with. 

He didn’t wanna talk to his Birmingham friends either - didn’t wanna bring up the article or the match. Wanted to block those out. Jobe was busy with his training too. 

So he gulped his dinner while watching some random episodes of The Great British Bake Off. Something that used to be a family ritual back home.

Still no word from her. It was 10 pm.

It wasn’t fair. He hated feeling this restless. That’s why he stayed away from the complications of attachments - too much fucking drama that he absolutely didn’t need in his life right now. As if the pressures on him weren’t enough already.

His treacherous messed up self didn’t comply with his brain though.

Jude: Don’t overthink this. Talk to me once.

10:30 pm. Still nothing. 

He was about to get up from his couch & drag himself to bed, when he saw the blue ticks started coming on her chat. She hadn’t blocked him then?

He grabbed his phone & dialled her number, shoving his pride aside. She picked up in two rings.

‘Heyyyy Judeyyy.’

She slurred on the line. Jude was stunned. Was this for real? 

He channelled all his inner calmness - wanting to get the facts first.

‘Ananya - are you drunk?’

‘Siiii. We just downed half a bottle of tequila in three sixty minutes. No thirty-six. I meant thirty-six mins.’

He took a few deep breaths, as she giggled on the line. 

‘Tell me where you are. I am picking you up.’

‘I am in a moving car - how will you pick me up from a moving car?’

‘What the fuck do you mean you are in a car? Who are you with? And why the fuck are you drinking in a car?’

He lost his patience despite his best efforts.

‘Yikes why the screaming? Hurting my ears Jude. So rude. Heyyy, that rhymed.’

He nearly pulled out a few of his flawlessly trimmed hair in frustration. When he spoke next, he broke up each word like he was talking to a child.

‘One step at a time yeah? Send me your live location.’

She managed to do that after a few failed attempts. Relief flooded over him when he saw she wasn’t too far from her home & on the right route.

‘Good girl. Now, are you alone, or is someone with you?’

‘I am in a limo. A black limo. Like in the movies. Can you believe it?’

‘That’s great. Not what I asked though. Is someone with you, Ananya?’

‘Roma. But she’s passed out. Wait let me see again? Yup - passed out.’

‘Was it such a smart thing to drink so much that you pass out in the back of a car? When you are alone?’

‘Hey, she passed out. Not me. Pls - my capacity is legendary. Ask me the square root of 1576 & I'll tell you.’

He was amused but had to remind himself that he was still mad. 

‘Where were you today?’

Somehow, from her broken sentences, he gathered that the MD of their team lived on the outskirts of Madrid and there was a presentation of the final work at his mansion today. It was his limos that were dropping the team home. And the girls found the tequila in the car & just went for it after the grueling last 48 hours of work.

He also understood that her phone was on airplane mode most of the day. So she hadn’t seen his messages. Hadn’t seen the article either. 

Suddenly, there was some commotion on the line.

‘Roma is hitting me to talk to you. Putting you on speaker.’

‘Heyyy lover boyyyy - finally.’

This time he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

‘Well hello to you too.’

‘You should know that you owe me. I convinced Ananya to go to the match. And, most importantly, I convinced her to GO WITH YOU after the match.’

‘Oh, I thought she came because of me. How sad.’

‘A little coz of you. But mostly it was me.’

‘I see. Then I definitely owe you one, Roma.’

‘Remember that when I ask for signed jerseys of the WHOLE TEAM. And Zidane. And of course our one true love Ronaldo.’

‘Ahh you too.’

‘Of course, we share a common love. But Ananya loves him more.’

‘Believe me, I know.’

The car swerved to their street soon after, stopping outside their apartment building.

‘Girls, focus now, ya? - watch your step, go inside, lock the door. Ananya - call me after. I am waiting.’

‘Sir yes sir.’

‘Byeee lover boyyyyy.’

Jude groaned as they hung up - staring at the phone for it to ring again. Praying that they don’t trip & fall on their assess. 

The wait was excruciating. He got to his room, changed into his sleeping shorts, paced around, still nothing. How fuckin irresponsible. Finally, after 13 long mins, she called.

‘What took you so long?’

‘Code wasn’t working. Had to call neighbors to buzz us in.’

‘Wasn’t working or you forgot it?’

‘Pretty sure it wasn’t working.’

He shook his head & let it go, understanding how it was a lost cause. 

Then he started blurting out some instructions to her like ‘re-check the door’, ‘grab some water’, ‘tell me you ate something before drinking’ etc.

Ananya followed them diligently, and the slurring reduced as the liqueur settled down. Still quite out of it, but he could hear the girl he knew in there.

Knowing she was safe now, his mood improved, and her antics even started looking cute. 

‘Facetime?’

It felt like forever since he had seen her last. Held her last. 

When he finally laid eyes on her, all his frustration & anxiety of last two days started to evaporate.

‘Hey you.’

She waved back happily, snuggled into her pillow, still in her work clothes. All dopey from the alcohol. 

‘If I fall asleep on you tonight, don’t take it personally. Haven’t slept in 2 days.’

‘But you kicked ass though didn’t ya? 

Her face brightened, despite the exhaustion.

‘Kinda did.’

‘Knew it. Proud of ya.’

He really was. She could tell. She was starting to learn how to read his bright, expressive, goofy eyes. Tonight, they were deep & sincere. And a little anxious.

‘How’s your mood now?’

20 minutes ago he would have had a very different answer. 

‘Now? All fine, dove.’

She was about to tease him, call him cheesy & sickly sweet but he doubled down with his big brown doe eyes.

‘Missed you.’

Again, the sincerity hit her square in her heart. Throwing her off guard. He seemed different tonight. Vulnerable. The trademark blend of cocky flair & casual nonchalance not at the forefront. 

‘Missed you too.’

She sighed, as her eyes fluttered shut. Not that she had had much time for any active thought the last few days. But seeing him like this just reminded her how much she was looking forward to meeting him last night.

As she gathered herself, he took in her surroundings. The baby pink pillows amused him the most; somehow he hadn’t associated that with her. 

‘Can’t believe this is how I get to see your bedroom. On FaceTime.’

He didn't realize he had said it out loud. She giggled at his groans, batting her eyelashes at him. The vixen.

‘Yeah? What else did you have in mind?’

Jude shifted uncomfortably in the sheets. 

‘Don’t tease. Not tonight.’

‘When’s a good time, then?’

‘When I am in touching distance of you, tease away, by all means.’

‘I am not stupid, Jude.’

‘Never thought you were, dove.’

Challenging each other was kind of becoming their thing. Neither liked backing down & both loved the dynamic.

But she was tired. Ready to drop dead anytime.

‘Gimme 2. Need to change out of these.’

‘Cool, I’ll stay here.’

She placed the phone on the bed. Then, on second thoughts, she covered the phone with her blanket. Suddenly, his screen was filled with baby pandas.

‘Seriously? I was facing the ceiling, what was I gonna see?’

‘Don’t trust you & your peripheral vision.’

Jude groaned audibly, facing the disorienting pandas, starting to seriously dislike the otherwise adorable creatures.

He could hear her bouncing around her room, humming something in a foreign tongue, heels clicking on the floor. Still quite buzzed, clearly.

And then, a loud thump.

‘What happened? You ok?’

‘Zipper got stuck in heels. Knocked over a carton. Am fine.’

Jude turned & buried his face in the pillow, trying very hard to drown out the thoughts of what she was doing right now.

He couldn’t afford to let himself wander, since they hadn’t yet discussed the matter at hand.

But it was hard, he nearly bit the pillow to rein himself in. 

That’s how she found him when she returned in her tank top. The same one she had on that night, when he kissed her. Great.

‘What’s with you?’

She eyed him curiously, and he recovered quickly, game face back on.

‘Need to talk about something.’

‘Go on.’

Something had shifted in the environment. In him. Putting her on the edge.

Ripping off the band-aid quickly seemed like the best strategy to him.

‘A tabloid piece came out today about me & a girl, saying she is my girlfriend and we have been dating for 2 months. Which is not true. Never dated her. No idea how they came up with this. Wanted to give you a heads-up. Sent you the link in chat earlier today.’

He got it all out quickly. Then zeroed in on her face to gauge her reaction.

Her face had hardened like she was preparing for something unpleasant. Expressions too neutral, too blank for his liking. Almost cold. A more agitated reaction would have been less unsettling.

Ananya had a feeling it was something like this. The shield was up. Plus she was too spent to give any kind of outward reaction. 

She replayed his words in her head, and read through the article, while he waited patiently.

Her insta feed was also full of this now. This was everywhere. She found the ID of the woman and clicked on her profile.

‘She is pretty.’

This was not the first thing he had expected to hear. But he had the good sense to know that no response was the best response. Both confirmation and denial would have been scoffed at. 

‘You say you didn’t date her, but you do know her, right? Didn’t hear you deny that.’

Her tone was matter-of-fact, business-like. As if she was slicing & dicing a work project.

‘Yes. I do.’

‘Elaborate.’

‘Met her through insta. Liked some pics of each other. Chatted on DM. Then, met in person. Once.’

‘When?’

‘Two months ago.’

So the article had gotten at least something right.

‘Slept with her?’

Both were surprised by her cutting to the chase like this. The alcohol had lowered her inhibitions significantly plus she wasn't in the mood to entertain any nonsense.

‘Yes.’

‘Why only once?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Why not again? She is pretty.’

‘Umm…she is not from here.’

That wasn’t a good answer, he knew it the moment he said it. It wasn’t the complete truth either. But the damage was done.

‘Any exchanges after?’

‘Not from me.’

The unsaid hung heavily in the air. She chose to not address it. 

Mindlessly, she kept scrolling through the girl’s profile and the details in the article, not wanting to say anything more immediately. Not wanting to look at him, while his eyes were glued to her face throughout. 

Eventually, he couldn’t handle the silence & spoke softly.

‘Remember, this was in the past. Nothing has happened since we met. Nothing will happen.’

The deep baritone was back, trying to lull her into a sense of security. 

She smiled wryly. If only it were that simple to believe. If only her mind was not filled with images of him frolicking at his home with this woman, as was so definitively stated in the article. 

He felt the chasm widening between them, pulling her further away.

Some core truths, albeit crude, needed to be said out loud now. 

‘Ananya - I’ve never lied to you. Never not answered anything you threw my way. Never painted a false picture of my lifestyle. We’ve discussed these encounters before. Yes this put a face to it & I get it’s hard. But that doesn’t change the fact that I was single, and both consenting adults always knew it was just sex, nothing more.’

Her eyes shot up at him at the last line, which he was expecting. But he stood his ground.

‘I can see you are judging me hard, and them too. Look…’

She cut him off sharply.

‘THEM? Who are they to me? Why should I judge women I don’t know anything about?’

‘And me?’

‘YOU? I am TRYING to understand you. Your DECISIONS. It is NOT EASY. Not something I ever imagined dealing with.’

‘I get it.’

He really did. She didn’t hear what he said though, still stuck on his previous words.

‘And THEM? Seriously how many are there? How many such GIRLFRIENDS should I be prepared for?’

He blanked & panicked simultaneously. How was he supposed to answer that? Thankfully, she intervened.

‘You know what? Scratch that. Don’t answer that, I don’t ever wanna know. I don’t care.’

She jerked her face away, trying to compose herself.

But he couldn’t stop staring at her. The usually calm, jovial features a picture of irritation & exhaustion right now. The need to hold her close & comfort her paralyzed him.

‘Can we do this in person? I can be there in 20-25 mins.’

‘NO.’

It was a firm, decisive no. Leaving no scope for discussion. He figured it was also her showing him he wasn’t just gonna get his way with her, that she wasn’t like the others. 

But he knew that already. That’s what had fascinated him so about her. She was unlike anyone he had been with before. How he wished she could see that too.

For the first time, the silence between them was not comfortable. Or comforting. 

The silence was interrupted by constant pings on her phone - two calls followed by a few messages. He saw her eyes go wide as she focused on the screen.

It was 12 am. Jude had a sinking feeling who it could be from. Last two days, he had really behaved himself. Despite knowing she would have spent every waking minute at work around that insufferable colleague of hers. Sticking to her like a leech. Pinging her at odd times. 

But, in a grand display of restraint, Jude hadn't uttered a word to her. It was her work after all. 

‘Jude I’m gonna need two mins.’

She muttered urgently, getting up from the bed.

‘I will stay online if that’s ok.’

‘Fine.’

She was already out the door, leaving the phone, leaving him behind.

Jude found himself facing the ceiling of her room again. Seriously, what the fuck just happened? Could this day get any more rotten?

She returned in a minute. He could hear her but not see her yet. Bile rose in his throat when he realised who she was talking to.

‘Hey Arjun, yes I found it. It’s with me now. Thank you so much for letting me know, this could have gone anywhere. You are a lifesaver.’

A pause for a few seconds, in which Jude plotted getting that cockroach permanently banned from the Bernabeu (Ananya had mentioned how big a fan he was), and then her voice again. Filled with genuine gratitude. Jude wanted to puke. 

‘Yeah all good, thanks again. Good night, see you tmrw.’

If her intent was to hurt Jude, then someone should hand her the Balon d’or immediately.

Ananya hung up, came back to the bed, and realized her phone was not on mute. She couldn’t find it in herself to care though, not right now.

‘All ok?’

Jude would have put monks to shame at the evenness he was able to muster in his voice.

‘Roma was drunk-texting on our work group. Some questionable stuff. Hv deleted the texts, will keep her phone tonight. Glad Arjun alerted me.’

And just like that, evenness went out the window. Replaced with sarcasm, laced with disdain.

‘How sweet of him, what a gentleman.’

Ananya turned the full force of her glare at Jude, which he met head on. Fire dancing in both their eyes. 

‘Would you GROW UP? Not everything is about you. And yes, he IS a gentleman. Your petulance will not change that.’

‘A FUCKIN TWAT is what he is. Always interrupting us. Always trying to cozy up to you. Even when he doesn’t have a shot. Classic small-dick energy. Quite fuckin LITERALLY in his case.’

Ananya could punch him through the screen. The insufferable, entitled, derisive prick that he was being. So full of himself. He needed to be put in his place. 

‘Yeah? Maybe I should verify that.’

The bodyblow landed as intended. Making him double over with pain.

Jude felt like someone had kicked him in the gut and in the nuts at the same time. His throat went dry and his hands turned clammy.

The numbness hitting his brain, then his body. The rage dissipated & he realised he didn’t have a leg to stand on, given how they had gotten here tonight.

Plus she would never do the thing she hates the most. She would never cheat, he was convinced.

His tone went down several notches, as did his attitude.

‘I know you are angry. I know you didn’t mean it.’

‘Oh no - I really do want..’

‘ANANYA PLEASE. Please. Slap me if you want to, smack me all that you like but NOT THIS. Please.’

The distress in his choked voice made her stop. Knocking the fight out of her. 

Her voice lost its edge, coming out in a whisper.

‘A hypothetical scenario broke you. Whereas….you…..you have actually..’

She didn’t finish the sentence. But the message was well understood.

‘I know it’s unfair. Even hypocritical of me. But I can’t help it. Can’t handle even the idea of you with anyone else. I want all of you. All for me. All the time. I’d go nuts otherwise I swear.’

This moment, she saw a young, sensitive, insecure boy in Jude, not the mature, articulate, sorted, in-control grown man known to the world. 

She found it strangely healing; a distinct warmth seeping into her skin and settling into the pit of her stomach. 

It was 12:30. Two emotionally charged hours they had spent on the phone. Dead tired from work. Yet, the idea of hanging up & calling it a night never occurred to either. 

Just then, her doorbell rang, making her jump.

‘Don’t be alarmed. Answer it.’

She eyed him curiously, checking his background again. He was still in his bed. 

‘What did you do now?’

‘Answer the door & you’ll see.’

Huffing, she got out of bed & walked out. Leaving him facing the ceiling again. Third time that night.

When she came back, he finally saw a ghost of a smile on her lips. And the light returned to her gorgeous soft eyes.

She was still gazing at the bouquet, stroking & smelling with contentment.

‘White Tulips for dove. Thought it’d be fitting.’

‘Jude.’

She sighed deeply, and buried her head in the flowers, letting the strong scent drown her senses.

This was never going to be easy, she knew that from the start. But every time she got wobbly, he steadied her. Every time doubts pulled her away, he clawed his way back to her. Lack of effort was definitely not something she could hold against him. 

Maybe he means what he says. Maybe it is different for him this time.

She turned to look at his smiling face, still leaning on the flowers.

‘How did you even find these in the middle of the night?’

‘To be fair I ordered them in the evening, when I thought you blocked me.’

‘Blocked you?’

He just shrugged in response. Slightly embarrassed but trying to not show it.

She laughed at the absurdity of it all, and he finally let go too, letting himself relax. The sound of his little giggles bounced on her ears, doing things to her.

‘You are such a loon.’

‘Wanna be your loon.’

She was starting to melt now and wanted to arrest the fall. So she switched gears.

‘Tell me - what was the plan if I had blocked you?’

There had to be a plan. He wasn’t the kind to take things lying down. 

‘Cheesecake & churros from our cafe tmrw morning. Along with a letter stating how a 20-year-old boy has the same psychological maturity as a 15-year-old girl. Therefore you should cut me some slack given women are far smarter biologically and also coz you are you. I’m not saying it, science is. Facts.’

‘Reallyyyyy? So a 20 yr old boy lacks psychological maturity, but somehow that’s not a problem when he fucks half the world with impunity? What does science say about that? No disadvantage there?’

Jude’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, still trying to process how his attempted humour had backfired in about 50,000 ways.

To his credit, he recovered fast.

‘See? A smart person would not have walked into that hole like I did. Exhibit A of how dumb I am. This just proves my point.’

‘How come the world fawns over your intelligence & maturity then?

‘They don’t know me. It’s a scam. Trent says I should still be in diapers. He said that to Jobe once & the little scoundrel agreed.'

He had done it again. Pacified her without her even realising. Yeah, she wasn’t buying the dumb act. This boy knew his power & used it unabashedly, to his full advantage.

It was 1 am. She yawned while checking the time & Jude suddenly got hit by pangs of guilt.

He would let her go soon, just needed to hear one thing.

‘We ok? 

He barely blinked till she responded.

‘I guess so.’

She shrugged, realising she wasn’t mad anymore.

He figured that’s the best he would get tonight. But soon, when they are together, he’ll make up for this mess.

It was time to let her get some well deserved rest.

Jude leaned in, eyes firmly locked into hers, and kissed his phone screen. He had never done that for another girl before. But this one, she made him do this twice in a span of 2 days.

She followed his movement closely, meeting his gaze. Somehow feeling his lips brush her skin. 

‘End my misery and meet me soon?’

She nodded, and he flashed her a trademark ear-to-ear Jude smile. Crinkling eyes n all. Making her heart leap in her chest. 

‘Now go, get some rest. And since you won’t let me come over, hug the flowers instead when you sleep tonight. You’ll feel me around.’

‘Bye Jude.’

‘Bye dove.’

Goes without saying, she did hug the flowers as she slept that night. 

...............................................................................................

This chapter was very different in my head when I posted the previous one. But then, stuff happened the last few days & I felt like writing about it.

As always, would love to hear your thoughts / comments / feedback. Hope you are liking the story & these two, lots more to come :)

[pacifymebby]

Hi! i love your blog sm! i was wondering if i could request a peaky blinders preference for how they would react if they were at a party and an enemy had their s/o’s drink spiked as a way to distract them so they could attack the peaky boys? i hope this makes sense haha Tysm !

Hi lovely thank u so much for the request, i am so sorry that youve waited so long for me to finish this!!! I loved the idea and u gave me so much to work with!! I hope its everything u wanted it to be hehe.

Warnings: spiking of drinks, violence tv level) also describe the feeling of being spiked during Bonnies which could be upsetting for some.

Tommy

🌿 He'd been on edge all evening, he didn't really want to show his face tonight anyway, one of those fancy parties he knew he had to host every now and then to remain a prominent, influencial member of high society...

🌿 But these evenings are always ruined by the other guests... If he had to put a figure on it he'd say he despises about 90% of the rooms population and if it wasn't for you dancing with him and acompanying him all evening he's not sure he wouldn't have shouted that to the whole fucking room...

🌿All in all he wasn't in the mood for a party, let alone the trouble that he could sense brewing, this darkness bubbling away under the surface... He could tell something wasn't quite right, he had that warning bell ringing in his head and everyone who entered the grand ballroom, Tommy counted them, assessed them, studied them for any tells...

🌿Tommy saw exactly what they did, saw your drink get spiked... But this is Tommy Shelby we're talking about, the man never misses a trick

🌿And when he saw that young lad slip something into your drink he knew exactly what it was for... He knew that they were only trying to distract him from the bigger picture

🌿And what better way to navigate the trouble than to let them believe that they had...

🌿So he swaps your drink, accidentally knocking the spiked drink over, along with several others, smiling and laughing it off, apologising, keeps the mood light all hands in the air like "never mind eh just a few spilt drinks"

🌿Then when he rejoins you and gives you your drink he wraps his arms around you and hugs you close, rocking you side to side gently, slow dancing with you. Giving you instructions.

🌿"Need you do somet for me angel," he says, "Don't worry it won't be difficult... Need you to pass out for me yeah, just go limp in my arms as if someones put somet in your drink and its hit you all at once... Not right now yeah, just... Sip your drink - its safe I promise - just sip your drink and dance with me now eh and then, when I go over there and start talking with John, you go talk to Pol or me sister and you tell em you don't feel so good, let them take you out for some air and then you do it alright? But make sure you're somewhere safe away from all this for me... "

🌿You're a little worried, "but why Tommy whats going on?" "Never you mind about any of that eh, you just do this one thing for me eh sweetheart, I'll take care of everything else..."

🌿So you do as he tells you and you go outside with Ada and Polly doing your best to act a little faint a little frail. And to you delight you convince them so that when you pass out in Pollys arms a woman nearby screams and Ada goes running inside to tell Tommy...

🌿And as the chaos errupts and the party falls into dissaray, the fighting breaking out between the Peakys and the rival gang Tommy is safe in the knowledge that youre alright, that youre outside away from it all, safe and sound. So he can concentrate on wiping out the bastards who tried to hurt his angel, tried to use you as a cog in their nasty plan.

🌿He's so proud of you! When the fights over and he's sure there are no more threats he comes to find you, Ada has laid you down on the bench in the garden and covered you with her jacket and when Tommy sees you he smirks, chuckling softly.

🌿He gives you a little applause, "Bravo love, bravo," he says sitting down and helping you up, his proud grin painting a bright smile on your lips.

🌿Ada and Polly being confused until the penny drops and they realise that they've been dragged into one of Tommys plans. Theyre furious that he tricked them like that but Tommy isnt paying any attention to the lecture Polly is giving him. He's just looking at you.

🌿"You should be on the stage angel, when I saw you for a second there you had me worried..." "Don't be daft," you smile shyly, leaning into him as he puts his arms around you and hugs you, kissing your temple, looking out at the garden with serious eyes.

🌿"Sorry I had to drag you into all that love, won't happen again..." but you both know it probably will and he knows now that he can rely on you to be quite the little actress whenever he needs you.

🌿"Glad I've got such a clever girl eh angel..."

Alfie

🐻 Fuckin hates parties, doesnt see why it cant just be you and him having a drink ans a dance cosy at home but then again, he's old, maybe you youngens still like a party... Mind you, he remembers being young (he ain't that old!) he wasn't much for parties then either...

🐻 But he can't insult Tommy Shelby by refusing his invitation and he takes a little joy from knowing that his old pal Tommy hates parties just as much, that at least at this party he'll get to do is two favourite things: dancing with his zieskiet and seeing Tommy Shelby pissed off.

🐻 So the two of you go to the party and he tries to keep his grumbling to a minimum, charming you with all his usual tricks, dancing with you and enjoying the jealous looks from all the other men in the room. He's certain that you must be the most beautiful woman any of these men have ever set eyes on and he loves knowing that you're all his. Loves being able to show you off subtly.

🐻 He dances with you and brings you drinks, he holds your hand at every opportunity, being extra possesive over you, he doesnt leave your side all even...

🐻 So when it happens he's shocked... Because how could it have happened? How could anyone have put anything in your drink without him noticing?

🐻 He's so shocked but this is Alfie and he knows he needs to keep it together, remain calm, remain unsettlingly calm. So he turns slowly with you still in his arms and he searches the room for Tommy Shelby.

🐻 Because this is Tommys fuckin party so its Tommys fuckin fault and Alfie isn't daft, he knows that this... Whats happened to you, your limp, seemingly lifeless body, is probably only the first step in someone elses plan.

🐻The thought flickers across his mind, perhaps this is part of Tommys plans, perhaps its Tommy himself who has done this to you, betraying Alfie - it wouldn't be the first time the old friends have betrayed eachother... But no, that would be too obvious and besides... Tommy has a little class, for a "gypsy" anyway...

🐻 So instead of threatening everyone in the room instead of firing his gun, putting a bullet through someones - anyones - head you know, just to relieve his frustration, just to calm his panic... instead of losing his mind he remains calm, walks purposefully up to Tommy and starts talking over the younger man completely ignoring Tommys company.

🐻 This is tommys fuckin party so its tommys fuckin problem and Alfie has already decided that whatever happens next he won't be sticking around to help his old friend.

🐻 "Alright Tommy my old pal alright have a nice night yeah cause me and my girl are goin now... I know I know we've not exactly stayed very long but you know how I feel about these fancy do's dont you... Fuckin can't abide em yeah... And anyway as you can see... As you can see right my girls taken a turn hasn't she, had a funny turn, passed out cold in my arms just now yeah like she'd just gone and fuckin died or somet..." he's getting theatrical now, those who were with Tommy are watching Alfie fearfully, they've heard about him, they know he can turn at any second and he sure as hell looks like he might be about to snap now.

🐻 "We were just dancing together just now, over there yeah by that big fuckin ugly tree someone seems to have just fuckin dragged in out the garden? What is that anyway a fuckin big ugly tree? You wanna fire whoever put that ugly thing there..."

🐻 Tommy is looking at Alfie and looking at you, putting the pieces together, trying to think quicker than Alfie is talking but its always difficult to stay one step ahead of Solomons when he starts on these rants.

🐻 "Anyway I digress I digress, fuckin ugly plant or not, it would appear that somehow, in your fine home... Yeah and that words important right cause as the man of my own house myself yeah, I like to keep my home nice and safe eh, a fortress if you will... Anyway, me and my girl we were just fuckin dancin right, she was just fuckin dancing, having a nice fuckin evenin and then, poof..." he lets his voice soften, making a little gesture with his fingers like hes snuffing out a candle, "its like she's fuckin died or something aint it... Look at her yeah, don't you agree... Fuckin lifeless mate thats what she is..."

🐻 "Alfie whatevers happened I promise you we'll..."

🐻 "Fuckin fix it? That what you're gonna do yeah?" Alfie cutting him off, trying not to lose his temper, nows not the time to start a fight, nows the time to get you home safe and sound.

🐻 "Well, you can enjoy the rest of your evening eh, gather all your gypsy boys up yeah, put your little thinkin caps on eh and fuckin fix whatever shit you've gotten yourself caught up in this time... But me an my girl yeah, we're going home now alright mate, cause I reckon when she wakes up yeah shes gonna have a pretty nasty headache, and the last thing I'd want for her now is for her to have to come round to the sight of your fuckin crooked mug... Mate."

🐻 Alfie would be suspicious of everyone, even Tommy who he has mostly ruled out.

🐻 As he's carrying you out to the car, calling for Ollie to bring the motor round, its Alfie who starts the fight, firing his gun once into the crowd, wounding one of tommys men with a bullet in the foot. He chuckles as he hears the cry of pain, hears the victim fall to the floor just as heavily as you had fallen.

🐻 His real priority however is you, now that he's let tommy shelby know theres bad blood between them, now that hes started a fight and left the party tumbling into chaos, all out warfare, all Alfie cares about is getting you home.

🐻 He sits in the back of the car with you cradled to his chest, bundled up in his arms like a baby. He'd be talking to you soothingly, stroking your hair, not sure whether you can hear him or not. Wanting to make sure that whatevers happening to you you know your alfies with you, you know not to be scared.

🐻Grumbling and snapping at poor Ollie because hes driving too slowly and then because hes driving too dangerously and you're getting jostled about in the back.

🐻 He doesnt trust hospitals and doctors but he begrudgingly takes you into one and sits with you all night, getting snappy and snippy with the doctors who he doesnt think are doing enough.

🐻 He is so relieved when you finally come round the next morning, he's not slept, not eaten, hes just sat holding you, even when his sciatica was playing up and he was in pain from sitting holding you like that for too long.

🐻 He is nothing but soft and tender with you all day, runs you a bath to help sooth your aching muscles, fussing over you and grumbling at anyone who dares disturb the two of you. Poor Ollie gets an earful when he tries to inform Alfie that Tommy Shelby phoned.

🐻 He feels so guilty that this happened to you on his watch, he doesnt say it to you outright, that he blames himself, but he does make you promises over and over again that when he finds out what happened, who did that to you, he'll be paying them a visit...

🐻 He was really scared for you, really scared that he was going to lose you, really scared that you might not wake up, that he might not get to dance with you or kiss you or see your pretty eyes awake and alive ever again and so for that reason he stays close to you for some time after that night, always holding you, always touching you. He kisses you every chance he gets. Even wants you to come into his office with him so that he can keep you close, sitting in his lap whilst he works.

🐻 "Next time Tommy Shelby invites us to one of his fancy little parties zieskiet, next time he sends us one of those fuckin little invites... Lets not bother yeah, lets stay home just me and you, can do all the dancin we like right here yeah poppet, can have all the fun we like right fuckin here yeah..."

Arthur

🍂 You and Arthur always go too far at these parties his brother hosts. Tommys out there trying to make contacts, trying to lobby and charm politicians and the nations elite, meanwhile you and Arthur are racing one another to the bottom of a bottle of whiskey you've nicked from the kitchens, getting silly and letting your hair down...

🍂 And you're already drunk, both of you are really really drunk!

🍂 So when you start acting like you've overstepped that hard to predict line into "one too many" territory, Arthur assumes that thats all it is. You've had one too many, surpassed your limit and now you're struggling to stand up or walk, leaning on him for balance.

🍂 When you tell him you feel a little sick he chuckles and teases you all, "Aye my love I'm not fuckin surprised eh, when you gonna learn eh sweetheart, you can't keep up with us big boys..."

🍂 But when you collapse in his arms he freezes. The smile wiped clean off his face because suddenly he understands whats happened. You aren't just a little drunk. Something far more sinister has happened.

🍂 And of course he's terrified, pretty much convinced that youre already dead... Your body is so limp, lifeless, your head fallen back, youe eyes closed. You look so fragile, so delicate, like a feather and yet suddenly he can feel the weight of your whole body and you feel so, so real, so heavy...

🍂 He's fucking terrified.

🍂But Arthur Shelby doesn't do "terrified" he has one emotional switch and thats rage. If hes heartbroken he gets angry, if he's bitter he gets angry, if hes scared, well, he gets fucking angry and thats what happens next.

🍂 He fires his gun up at the cieling, the bullet shattering the glass in the chandelier above you so that shards rain down on the now petrified crowd. The party disintergratea, the atmosphere shattered as the band stops playing and, beyond the crying of a terrified bystander, the scuffle of panicked men, the room falls silent, all eyes on him.

🍂 He's livid, his mind already hazing with rage so that he can barely think, he's breathing heavily, shallow ragged breaths.

🍂 "Right!" he shouts into the crowd, "One of yous has fuckin hurt my fuckin wife and no one leaves this fuckin room until I find out which fucker done it... By order of the peaky fuckin blinders!"

🍂 And of course, no one argues with him.

🍂 Tommy pushes his way through the crowd to his brother, tries to reason with him, one hand on Arthurs shoulder as he tells him whats happening, explains the situation...

🍂 "You need to let her go brother, give her to Polly eh, go on brother, let Polly take her now..." Tommys trying to reason with him but Arthur doesnt want to let you go. The only reason he gives in in the end is because Tommy tells him he knows whos responsible for whats happened.

🍂 When Tommy points out the men who have spiked your drink Arthur doesnt question him, doesn't ask how he knows, instead he loses the last of his control, instead he startes trembling with the adrenaline rush, the rage, the hatred burning in his veins, his mind white and blank, tunnel visioning towards destruction.

🍂 He goes feral, launching himself at the men who are responsible, horror movie scenes ensuing as Tommy and the Peakys all go to battle, cutting men left right and center. Arthur is the most blood thirsty however, driven by the image of your lifeless body, driven by the terror he feels in his tight chest every time he pictures your lifeless expression.

🍂 He can't be stopped and he beats and cuts those men until they're unrecognisable. He has to be dragged back from the smashes in head of one of them, covered in their blood and his.

🍂 He can't calm down, he's practically rabid with his own violence, his eyes dark and changed by his anger.

🍂 But when you come round hours later, when you enter the ballroom where Arthur is still smashing things, still throwing furniture and breaking glasses, doing himself damage, when you call out to him he hears you and he turns to look at you. All the energy draining from him, all the adrenaline leaving him panting and exhausted, just gazing at you in disbelief.

🍂 And then hes just a shameful guilty stream of apologies, hes sorry he let it happen to you, hes sorry you have to see him like that, hes sorry he's too bloody and disgusting to hold you, he's sorry hes ruined your beautiful dress, he's sorry he went too far again, hes sorry he wasn't there when you woke up, he's sorry he couldn't be more help...

🍂 The only way you can cut him off is with your hand over his mouth, looking deep into his eyes, combing your fingers through his hair and his beard and pressing your lips to his cheeks, to his forehead and nose and jaw and anywhere else you possibly can.

🍂 "S'alright Arthur m'love im alright I'm here and its all alright and you fuckin got em didn't you, fuckin saved me didnt you, love you so much Arthur, don't apologise for anything please love, I'm so grateful I'm your girl..." you whispering all these sweet things to him until he's sure he's going to cry, your eyes and his eyes watering.

🍂 You cleaning him up afterwards and then climbing into the bath with him. Probably fucking in the water nice and slow and gentle to use up the last of his adrenaline and sooth him the best way you know how...

John

🌼 Similar to Arthur, John just thinks you can't hold your drink. You're so much smaller than him but you always forget that when you're drinking, you've been on the gin with Pol and Ada and you haven't exactly been taking your time....

🌼 He thinks you're so funny when you're drunk, thinks youre so cute too, the way you lose yourself half way through a sentence trailing off sleepily. The way you have to lean on him, wrapping your arms around his waist and closing your eyes as if you're about to fall asleep against him.

🌼 And when you do fall asleep against him he just chuckles, "whatre y'like eh flower," he says shaking his head and kissing your cheek as he lifts you up and carries you to the edge of the dancefloor, making a bed for you out of dinner chairs, lining them up in a row and laying you down on them with the little ones who have already gone to sleep on similar makeshift beds.

🌼 He shrugs his jacket off and uses it as a cover for you draping it over your shoulders carefully, crouching down and kissing your cheek, taking a moment to admire your peaceful features. You're so pretty, he's so lucky... All the while never noticing that somethings wrong. Never noticing anything at all until its too late.

🌼 The men who spiked your drink had been expecting some kind of reaction, a ruckus of sorts, a ripple of panic which would start with you and spread through the party like a wave...

🌼 But nothing happens and they're left confused and growing ever more tense waiting to pull their move, knowing that their window of opportunity is running out fast

🌼 And in the end they have to abandon their plan because all is calm and everyone js still having a good night. John is laughing with his brothers and you, well, you appear to be sleeping peacefully with the children...

🌼 So they have to start a new commotion, one of the men taking out a knife and threatening some random politicians wife so that one by one the peaky men are dragged into a fight.

🌼 John doesn't make any connections between the commotion and whats happened to you, as far as he's concerned youre still sleeping... That is until he grabs one of these trouble makers by the collar of his shirt and the cheeky fucker licks his teeth in a grin.

🌼 "Wheres your girlfriend Shelby? Hope shes alright, would be a shame if something were to..." and just like that the penny drops and although john had only intended to wound the stupid bastard, when he realises what the man is alluding to he shoves him up against the wall and pulls his gun on him, shooting the nasty git right between the eyes.

🌼 He's feeling murderous then, no longer enjoying the fight as a bit of friendly sport. But before he can take revenge he rushes to find Pol and instructs her to take care of you, to get you to a doctor as quickly as she can.

🌼 He's worried about you, obviously, but he's also really beating himself up for being so stupid as to not realise that there was anything wrong with you. He takes that frustration out in the fight however, channeling all his anger and fear and upset into beating the living daylights out of his enemies.

🌼 He's anxious to get to you however and the moment he scans the room and sees that his brothers and the lads have everything under control he leaves to find Polly, to find you.

🌼 He irritates the hell out of Ada and Polly who are trying to attend to you whilst they wait for the doctor, because Johns not the most delicate or precise at the best of times and when hes all worked up and in a bit of a state hes even worse. He just keeps gettinf in the way, he wants to help but somehow everything he does actually makes it worse.

🌼 "For christ sakes John sit down!" Polly losing her temper with him when the doctor does finally arrive and he carries on getting in the way.

🌼 But John will not be reassured and he will not listen to the doctor or believe them when they try to tell him that you're going to be okay.

🌼 He gets annoyed when the doctor tries to leave. "Where the bloody hell dya think youre going shes still out cold!" "Mr Shelby please, she's only sleeping, she's going to be completely fine... Theres nothing more I can do for either of you but you have my assurances that..."

🌼 "I don't want your assurances doc, I want you to fuckin do something!"

🌼 Ada having to intervene and drag him away, telling him that if he really wants to help he should stay with you, maybe talk to you or something so that you know hes there with you... Shes despairing with him if shes being honest...

🌼 But John finally lets the doctor leave and he sits down with you, holding your hand, stroking your hair out your face and talking to you, trying his best to calm down and talk calmly and reassuringly to you.

🌼 Worlds wobbliest restless knees award goes to...

🌼 He's a worrier at heart, even if he usually seems so laid back and when you do come round he doesnt stop fussing or being anxious, in fact Ada tells you she actually believes he's gotten worse... If thats at all possible.

🌼 He absolutely dotes on you. He doesnt want to leave your side but he doesnt want you to go without and he doesnt trust anyone else to get your drinks or to bring you food so hes constantly torn between going to get you food or staying by your side.

🌼 Isn't affraid to admit how scared of losing you he was, tells you multiple times. Keeps taking your hand in his and just holding onto you clasping your fingers tightly. He doesnt want to let you out of his sight.

🌼 Overly doting actually to a point where you think you might go insane. "John love, sweetheart please calm down, I'm fine I'm fine I promise... I can hold my cup myself see, I'm alright really love... Are you sure you're alright you're exhausting yourself..."

🌼 But he won't let you worry about him and he forces himself to tone his anxiety down because he doesn't want you to worry about him.

🌼 Again, can't get over how fucking stupid he feels, he can't believe he thought you were just drunk. He can't believe he just left you in the corner with the kids. He has such a huge crisis of confidence about his abilities as a husband/father. You needed him and he didn't even fucking notice.

🌼 He's petrified it could happen again and he does a lot of growing up. You tease him that hes growing too serious in his old age and although sometimes he laughs and jokes along, sometimes he gets this dark guilty look in his eyes and he reminds you of what happened, what could have happened. Tells you again that he isn't gonna let you down like that again...

🌼 Obviously wont listen to you when you try to tell him he didn't and could never let you down.

Bonnie

🍀 If he was being honest, for all that he'd told Tommy Shelby he wanted fame and fortune, didn't want to be a traveller anymore with fucking nothing to his name, seeing how Tommy lived whenever he visited the Shelby manor, made him question whether he really wanted all those things afterall. There was something about that manor that made Bonnie uncomfortable, perhaps it was simply that wherever the Shelbys were involved there was trouble.

🍀 And that was why he had had mixed feelings about bringing you to this party...

🍀Thered been so many reasons he'd wajted to... Naturally... He'd been excited to show off his girl, to have all the other Peaky Boys see you in all your beauty, for them to see that the shy and somewhat reserved Bonnie Gold, could do just as well as them when it came to women...

🍀And he'd wanted to show off to you too, show you how different the Shelby family seemed to live. The wealth that Bonnie was being introduced to. He wanted to show you it all so he could show you all the things he was going to work to win for you with his boxing.

🍀And he wanted to treat you. In comparison to the other Peaky lads like Isaiah and Michael and Finn, Bonnie led a far more simple life. The other boys were always taking their girls out to fancy parties, clubs and restaurants but you and Bonnie didn't live that kind of life...

🍀So when Tommy told him to bring a girl if he liked, Bonnie knew he would be taking you...

🍀Even if he was a little apprehensive to let you so close to the darker half of his life which so often put him in danger and could put you in harms way too if he wasn't careful..

🍀But it was worth his nerves to see you smiling the way that you were now, dancing with him, drinking and laughing with Isaiahs girlfriend and Michaels too. You looked so happy, so beautiful under the twinkling candle glow which lit the ballroom. And he was happy that you were happy. He was proud that everyone could see how you shone like a little star in that room. How you fitted in perfectly...

🍀But neither of you saw that stranger slip something into your drink. A drink that had been intended for Ada Shelby who had been talking to you by the bar, your glasses side by side on the polished marble top.

🍀 At first you just felt a little odd, a little dizzy as though you'd done ten shots of gin without realising it and they were all hitting you at once and when you found Bonnie and told him you felt strange he smiled at you and teased you telling you you'd had one too many trying to keep up with "us big lads"

🍀 He tucks you under his arm and leads you out to the terrace for some air, kisses your cheek and scrapes your long hair back from your face and neck so that the cool night air might dust you and ease your dizziness.

🍀You make the mistake of asking for some water and Bonnie makes the mistake of leaving you alone outside to go and get you some.

🍀And by the time either of you realised whats really happening its too late. Your little world is blurring and spinning and you feel suddenly so unbelievably sick.

🍀So you stand up quickly, too quickly, desperate to get back to Bonnie because you have that worrisome feeling in your stomach, that instinct telling you that something is really wrong.

🍀And you bump into a stranger who holds onto your arm for a moment too long, making you feel even more like you might be in serious trouble.

🍀You call out for Bonnie, your voice much quieter, your words more slurred than you expect them to be. And of course when Bonnie hears you he recognises that something isn't right because you sound so distance. Suddenly he feels very far away from you...

🍀When he turns and sees you he drops the glass of water, not even noticing it shatter on the floor causing a stir. He rushes to you concern lacing his brows together, his young face grey with worry when he recognises all the tell tale signs of something he'd hoped would never happen to you...

🍀 You open your mouth to call out to him but as you do you falter, stumbling forward. You're lucky your boy is a boxer, agile and quick on his feet, because he manages to catch you just before your vision fails and your body falls limp everything feeling heavier and heavier until finally you find yourself completely lost under a thick hazy quilt.

🍀 You can feel that sensation of impending doom grip you then, the fear building inside you, your heart racing as you struggle against the lethargy and confusion which is dragging you down into the dark. You want to cry, want to cry out for your Bonnie to help you but you can't even move let alone speak.

🍀Bonnie is shaking, looking down at you where you lie limp in his arms, your body slumped against his. You look so pale, so washed out. You feel cold too. Its as if you're dead but he knows youre not. He knows exactly whats happened to you because he's heard stories from Isaiah about some of the shit that goes on in the city these days. Girls getting attacked by sleazy gits. Ones who can't charm women (or perhaps dont even want to) so they use drugs to make them vulnerable, to make them easy targets.

🍀He's livid. Pale with anger. His heart beating fast because he knows how dangerous these kinds of poisons can be. How much damage they can do. He's scared for you but he's fucking livid too. Who the fucks Tommy Shelby inviting into his home these days... How the fucks a gang leader as infamous as Tommy Shelby cutting about letting young girls get spiked under his watch.

🍀He kisses your forehead, whispering to you that you'll be alright, saying a little prayer, a hail mary for you, hoping you can hear him. Hoping that it'll bring you comfort wherever you are just then.

🍀And then he surprises not only himself but everyone else in the room, all the other young peaky lads watching him astounded.

🍀Because he walks straight back into the ballroom, still holding you in his arms, bundled up against his chest, the most precious cargo hes ever had to carry. He kisses you on the forehead again and he says another little prayer for you, and then he carries you right up to Tommy Shelby himself, Bonnies eyes full of a cold determination, his anger apparent in the grinding of his jaw, the complete disgust with which he looks at Tommy.

🍀 It must be the adrenaline shooting through him, it must be the funny way emotions like fear and heartbreak show themselves when youre young and impulsive, but god knows where the confidence to do what he does next comes from...

🍀"You need to sort your fuckin men out Thomas Shelby, I dont know what the fuck kind of lowlife bastards you associate with..." 🍀his dad tries to cut in and apologise to Tommy on Bonnies behalf but when he sees you he frowns too and steps back wincing when his son carries on.

🍀 "You need to be a bit more fuckin careful about who you call your fuckin friends Tommy, cause when I find the sick cunt who's spiked my lass am gonna slit his fuckin throat from ear to fuckin ear..."

🍀 "And you say we're the fuckin savages..." he spits on the ground at Tommys feet but he doesn't wait to hear the older mans response.

🍀Instead he leaves with you immediately, doesnt stay to realise the true extent of the drama which kicks off after he leaves and even when he hears about what went down in the end he doesnt care. All that matters to him is you. When he's leaving with you all he's thinking about is how he's going ti get you home safe, how he's going to take care of you...

🍀All in all the attackers are going ro regret their mistake because had they hit Ada there might have been a bigger fight kicked off, her brothers picking any poor sod in the crowd of guests to fight with. But because they hit you its all over much quicker. Bonnie doesnt let you become a distraction, he really does just carry you all the way home where he can keep you safe, watch you through your unconsciousness and make sure youre alright.

🍀He spends all night sitting up with you, talking to you quietly, kissing your hair, cradling you to his chest, worrying about you. Saying those little prayers for you hoping that you can hear him or at least feel his presence. Hoping that you can feel his love for you, hoping you know that hes got you, that youre safe.

🍀 "S'alright little dove s'alright my girl ive got you you're safe sweetpea, won't let anything happen to you lovely..."

🍀When tou come round you wake in his lap, his hand in your hair, one hand on your wrist as he counts your pulse. He's so worried about you, the longer you've been out for the more stressed hes become. His dad came home not long after he did, Aberama had had to stick around and help when the fight had broken out, he'd also had to try and save face on behalf of his son and his short temper...

🍀 "My my bonnie that was quite the performance..." "I'm not gonna apologise so don't even try it..." Bonnies still absolutely seething and will be for some time, he's angry that Tommy would let those kinds of men into his house and he can't be reasoned with. He's definitely going to hold a grudge.

🍀But when you come round properly he drops his temper and shows you only gentleness ans care, ever so sweet as he dotes on you. Doesn't try to hide his relief, doesn't try to play it cool. Tells you how worried he was, how scared he was he might lose you...

🍀He asks you how you're feeling, tells you not to lie to him or play it down. "What do you need little dove, anythin at all yeah you tell me, gonna look after you i promise..." but you don't really need him to promise you that because you know it already.

🍀In the end you have to try and talk sense to him about the whole Tommy issue, you remind him what hes working towards, "Don't throw all that away over some stupid accident Bon, you're gonna be a star remember, gonna be my champion..."

🍀"Come in Bon, forgive and forget, what is it they say... Bury the hatchet..." "Aye I'll bury it alright... In the back of his fuckin head!" "Bonnie i mean it! Please!" and eventually he has to give in and take you seriously but not without that boyish smile, not without joking about his grudge from time to time and not without making it very clear that he isn't going to apologise for what he said that night, or for leaving before he could help thwm fight. "Alright, alright sweetpea, no bad blood i promise alright if thats what you want I'll forgive him... But am not apologisin to him... I did exactly what any good lad would do eh, got to look after my girl, gotta protect her first, shes the most important thing in the whole wide world..."

🍀He does feel like he should have done more, he regrets not realising sooner, regrets even taking you to the stupid party in th3 first place. From then on he's far more protective over you, hyper alert whenever hes out with you, doesn't ever let your drinks out of his sight, doesnt ever let anyone else buy you a drink. Doesnt ever leave you on your own, not even to get you a water when you really have had one too many. Certain he wont let anything like that happen to you ever again.

Isaiah

🐀 Similiar to John, Isaiah doesn't realise somethings wrong until its really really wrong and the fights already kicked off.

🐀The two of you would have been trying to outdrink one another all night. This was one of Tommys parties, one for all his legal business contacts and endeavors and Isaiah wasnt exactly expecting to be pulling his gun on anyone or getting into any serious scraps.

🐀However when a fight does break out, when some uninvited guests turn on Arthur and pull a knife, Isaiah's first thought is of vulnerable drunk you somewhere on your own in the party, perhaps off with Ada in the bathroom or with Lizzie at the bar.

🐀He only realises the depths of the danger you're in when he shoves a half concious thug to the floor and out of his way, pausing amid the choas to look for you, to see whether you've returned from the bathroom. But instead he sees Ada, sees her with tears in her eyes, her face white as a sheet. She looks terrified and although there could be any number of reasons the Shelby sister looks so scared Isaiah knows in his gut that shes crying because of you. Somethings happened to you.

🐀"Ada what is it whats wring where the fucks y/n..." and when Ada shakes her head and bursts into tears he fears the worst. Thinks something fucking awful has happened to you.

🐀He has this moment of hesitation, torn because the fights still raging and he knows the peakys need him to stay and fight. But he's terrified, so scared that you might be lying on the floor somewhere wounded or worse, dying, without him...

🐀"Ada tell me what the fucks happened," he snaps because hes panicking. Later he'll feel guilty for scaring the young lass but just then shes the least of his worries. He can think only of you. Total tunnel vision panic. When Ada manages to tell him whats happened she starts crying harder and Isaiah feels his blood run cold. He wants to run to you but he knows there's nothing he can do fir you, knows the only way he can keep you safe now is if he makes sure not a single one of these intruders gets out alive.... So he tells Ada to go find Polly, tells her to make sure she geta you help tells her to keep the both of you safe.

🐀He's in a blind panic, his adrenaline rushing him making it hard ti focus, hard to think and all he can do is launch himself at an attacker and take all his anger and fear out on them.

🐀Knowing that one of these men has hurt you motivates him and unlocks something plain sadistic inside him, he doesnt stop fighting until hes sure theyre all dead and even then with some of them he goes overboard, cutting people who are already dead/as good as dead. Kicking at their limp bodies until their blood stains his shoes and the walls, until its splattered over his body and the other bodies which now little the floor.

🐀John has to drag him away from the body of a man who's barely recognisable anymore reminding him of you, reminding him that you need him, "Come on Saiah, enough... She'll be coming round soon and when she does she's gonna need her man eh? You gotta be there for her mate, you've got to calm the fuck down, clean yourself up... Last thing she wants see is you covered in all this blood..."

🐀Then all the fight leaves him, hes stressed, can't control his ragged breathing, can't control his shaking. Suddenly he doesnt know what to do with all that fear and upset and for a minute he's scared he's going to cry in front of everyone. Isaiah definitely puts a lot of pressure on himself to be as tough as Tommy and the older Peaky men and the fact that his response when his girl is unconcious is to cry rather than rush to protect her makes him feel sick and a little disgusted with himself. Which obviously translates to more anger...

🐀So his temper flares and he can't calm down and even when Pol tells him to breath, to relax because youre going to be fine, Isaiah cant and doesn't accept that. He just gets pissed off that anything bads happened to you at all. And when he snaps at Polly all "Don't tell me to fucking calm down woman! Thats my fuckin girl there, fuckin out cold don't tell me to be fuckin cold!" he gets a hard slap off the woman in question. "Watch who you're callin woman peaky boy or it'll be you on the fuckin floor alright..."

🐀Only then does he come to his senses, suddenly apologetic and a little more meek. A little humbled by that stark slap to the face. It was what he needed in the end to calm him, to remind him who needed him and who he needed to be in that moment.

🐀And then Lizzie and Ada start wishing they could give him a slap too because he's fussing around you and getting in the way and he isn't helping at all...

🐀"Sit down for fuck sake Isaiah, fussin like that ain't gonna help her..." Ada trying to shoo him away, Isaiah straight up ignoring her and hovering around you anyway.

🐀Will be there when you wake up, will say sorry a million times, will not be able to handle the guilt. Makes a lot of very murderous promises. But youre actually kind of fine, just tired and achey, all you really want is for him to lie diwn with you and hold you whilst you rest.

🐀"saiah please," you yawn making grabby hands at him, lethargic and sleepy with little tears in your eyes, "just want a cuddle, come here calm down be alright just want... Cuddle..." him chuckling at you, a smile painted on his lips by your sweetness despite the stress he still feels.

🐀When he climbs into bed with you and holds you in his arks you hold onto him too, you can feel the adrenaline still pumping through his body, can feel his fast heartbeat and the way hes trembling. Youre not so naive as to point it out or ask him about it, instead you kiss his chest and nuzzle into his hold and you thank him for saving you and for being there when you woke up.

🐀Youre a sweet sight to behold and Isaiah is overcome with relief, a rush of emotion hitting him as he realises just how seriously he feels for you, how much you really mean to you. He loves you so dearly and as you're lying there held close to his chest he really realises for the first time that if anything were to happen to you he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

🐀So he makes a silent vow to you and himself that from then on hes going to be your protector, hes going to be there whenever you need him. That hes never going to let you get hurt again, never going to put you in harms way. He stops messing around so much, stops getting as drunk as he used to, really grows up and starts viewing everything to do with the peakys as serious, as a potential threat to you.

🐀Later you ask him to tell you exactly what he did to the bastards that gave you such a sore head and he lights up telling you about it, very satisfied to remember that he made sure they got what they deserved. And you're kind of delighted to hear it too, the kind of story that just make your stomach turn, your body cringe in empathy when he describes the injuries those gits suffered... Instead it makes you feel safe and secure knowing that you have a man who would do literally anything to protect you.

Michael

☘️ He's always enjoyed these parties, theyre so wildly different from anything he ever knew when he was living in the countryside... They make him feel like a real man, like an adult... They're so far from anything he ever expected for himself growing up

☘️And its even better now he has you to spend the evening with, to have on his arm looking beautiful, the most desirable woman in the room. He loves the feeling of entering a room and feeling jealous eyes on him, or shocked eyes. Women who look at him and see his girl and know they don't stand a chance. Me who instinctively drop the hand of their girlfriend when they see you. Michael loves to see it, the attention the two of your draw, the power you have over a room without even having to try.

☘️But that night he finally sees the flipside, the dark threat which looms like a shadow, which follows the shelby men and their partners wherever they go. The truth of the matter is that wherever you go, no matter who you're with, no matter what who is there to protect you, there always a chance that someone out there, someone nearby wants to harm you.

☘️ And tonight it so happens that that is the case. That someone in that crowd of giddy tipsy party goers, has their eyes on you, has foul plans for you...

☘️When it happens, when the 'poison' hits you don't really know whats happening but Michael does. He recognises the signs imediately, the way your eyes cloud with fear and confusion, the way your lips tremble and slope downwards as if you were suffering some kind of turn. He realises that somethings wrong but he doesn't know what to do and when you fall limp into his side, your body heavy against his, the poor lad panics. He freezes.

☘️And this panic is something he will never be able to forgive himself for. Something he'll curse himself for everyday for the rest of his life.

☘️But thats what he does. He panics. He freezes just clutching your lifeless body to himself, staggering back a pace or two, feeling like he might be about to collapse too.

☘️Honestly he thinks you're dead or dying, he thinks he's already lost you, that theres nothing to be done and when he drops to his knees holding onto your body like his life depends on it, he doesnt realise he's shouting for his mother until she rushes to him in a panic herself.

☘️ "Mum!" its that shout that stops the party, but its his next words, words which fall on a hushed and confused low murmuring crowd, "I think shes fuckin dead mum i think shes fuckin..." which cause the evenings downfall.

☘️In that sudden silence a scream is heard somewhere else in the house. It shatters the concerned murmur hum of whispers from onlookers and suddenly sobering perty guests, the scream ricochetting around the ballroom. Honestly Michael hardly hears it over the thrum of his petrofied heart beating in his ears.

☘️Tommy and the other peaky men all rush to find the source of the scream and when Michael doesnt move tommy stops and yells for him...

☘️ "Leave her Michael come on get up, fuckin get up!" he shouts to his younger cousin, no heart for you the girl passed out in Michaels lap, no consideration for Michaels world which is shattering around him in pieces on the ballroom floor. "Fuck sake Michael fuckin move!" he yells his voice carrying across the room, other guests watching in fear when still Michael doesnt move, still clutching onto you, still mumbling to his mum in a blind panic that he thinks youre fuckin dead...

☘️He's so torn because he knows he can't stand up to Tommy, he can't shout at him or put up a fight - even though all he wants to do is tell his older cousin to get fucked - but he also can't stand the thought of leaving you. Can't bare to hand you over to his mother when he really believes that if he does he'll never get to hold you again.

☘️He's so scared and he just sits there on the floor, on his knees, still holding you, your head hanging lip, your eyes shut, your body so unbearably still. He just sits there distraught looking between you and Tommy until tommys temper flares. "fuckin move michael..."

☘️ "Go on love go with your cousin," Pol tells him, "you go and you fuckin kill em for this eh, fuckin kill em... Ive got her, she'll be alright i promise you Michael, you fuckin kill em alright?"

☘️So he pulls himself together, stands up shaking, fighting back tears, a looming sense of dread and devotion, a doomed feeling taking hold of him from the inside as he follows Tommy through the house to the fight which has broken out, which is raging on.

☘️ But he's distracted fighting because you're all he can think about. He's so worried about you and it means he misses a couple of tricks, taking more of a beating than he should have done. Getting cut by a blade, getting a kicking that leaves him feeling weak and full if self loathing. He feels humiliated, even after the fight when he's had his fair share of little victories. Even when hes headbutted another lad out cold and sent his unconcious body staggering back and falling with a thud to the dining room floor. Even when hes plunged a kitchen knife into the back of another.

☘️By the time the fights over he's bruised and bloody and he looks worse than you. Hes in a foul mood, his temper thin and stretched tight because he feels that shame looming over him.

☘️He's genuinely humilated by everything, the fact that he let that happen to you, the fact that he was so scared, the fact that he didnt put up a good fight, that he's ended up battered and looking like a man who can't defend himself or his woman. A man who is only really half a man. He feels pathetic.

☘️ And that gives him a foul temper which he almost takes out on you. Earns himself a slap from his mother who tells him not to be so fucking childish, "Wipe that fuckin sullen look of your face Michael you stupid stupid boy... Y/N fuckin needs you so stop your sulking and step up for her!" "She needs you Michael, more than your fuckin ego needs you now get in there and promise you'll never let anything like that happen to her again..."

☘️And that's exactly what he does. When he returns to you he sees the little tears in your eyes and when you try to apologise to him all, "Michael I'm so sorry, I should have been paying more attention, I should have been more careful... Oh god look at you you poor thing I can't believe it this is all my fault.." he holds his finger to your lips and hushes you. "Stop that eh love, be quiet none of this is your fault... None of this alright... Don't you dare say sorry again sweetheart..."

☘️ He holds your face in both his hands and puts his forehead against yours, closes his eyes and lets out a sigh of relief. Sheds a tear that trickles down his cheek. You're alive and thats all that matters, you're alive and he's so relieved. He hasn't lost you, you're still here. That means he has a chance to make this right. That means he can do things right from now on, be the man you need him to be.

☘️ Thought I was gonna fuckin lose you angel, thought you were gonna fuckin die... But here you are, you're alright now and I'm never gonna let anything happen to you ever again, gonna keep you safe now and always yeah?"

☘️When you ask if he's crying he denies it, then he makes you swear on his life you'll never tell a soul, and that you'll never ask if he's crying ever again. You kiss his cheek where the tear is and smile whispering that you promise. That you love him. That its going to take more than a little drink to drag you away from him.

☘️ He's far more wary around you, who you talk to, where you go, far more protective. And he starts working out more, starts going to the boxing ring with Isaiah and Finn, and when he fights he tries to tap into that panic he felt, pictures your lifeless body and channels all his emotions into every punch, the adrenaline making him ten times a better fighter.

☘️ Loves to hear you tell him how strong he's getting, loves when you run your hands over his arms to feel his muscles and say things like "How could I ever feel in danger when I've got you protecting me?"

[gayskogul]

Another Saturday

I pulled the short straw again. That was three weeks in a row now that I'd worn the scarf. I brayed about it, but didn't mind, really. You got an extra finger of booze every now and then for the trouble, and the jigs were easier to do backwards.

These dances were good, all said. It beat the alternative, sitting around freezing with nothing but our thoughts for company—and God knew no one wanted that. Being so far out from town for so long, one's own thoughts could take on a cruel voice. Almost as cruel as the keening of the wind as it raked away at our cabins with icy claws.

We used the mess for the dances, seeing as it had the most space. The room was overly warm from a bunch of oil lamps, set upon the floor. They cast long shadows that nipped at the heels of the dancers and twisted about in time with their steps. Pipe-smoke hung in the air, which didn't help. It had a way of making one's head fuzzy. I'd loosened my shirt a few buttons, like most of the others. Sweat pooled in the exposed hollows above our collarbones, and in the light it glistened like strings of pearls.

One of the younger lads from down south had pulled out a fiddle. He sawed away at it with his bow, striking up a number of merry tunes. Another man, with iron starting to thread at his temples, kept the beat with a battered drum. Old Morgan swayed atop a crate and played his concertina. Occasionally, someone would join them and sing a verse or two, but being heard over the laughter and stomping of boots upon wood was harder done than said. There was no tin whistle tonight. We'd lost him to the cave-in.

I drank my spirits and danced with the other men. It had taken a while getting used to, indulging in such silliness. But with the strong drink and the feverish mood charging these impromptu fetes, nobody paid that any mind. It wasn't so bad, dancing with them. There were a few of us who played the woman at these affairs, so one never felt too exposed. Besides, with a strong frame and good arms from all the mining and hauling, one could feel quite secure with another man doing the leading. I was led by Garrick, spun by Leopold, knocked knees with Ernest. Fritz dripped with sweat after he dipped me, and I laughed and dabbed at his brow with a handkerchief after the tune ended. One-eyed Dominic grinned and pinged the strap of my suspenders on my shoulder after our jig together. It stung like anything, but gave us one hell of a laugh.

It was when I'd gone to pour another slug of whisky into my cup when you came up to me. You tapped my shoulder once. I'd been wondering if you'd do it for a while, now.

"Next one's mine?" you said, fiddling with the brim of your hat.

"If I must," I said, rolling my eyes and plucking at the scarf, because it was easier to pretend.

You flinched and began to stutter an apology. But the tune had started up, so I pulled you by your shirtsleeve and yelled, "Come on!"

Within the crowd of dancers you looked more than a little bewildered, but you moved well enough. The booze did most of the work. You were taller by about a hand, but were awful wiry. You hadn't been here as long, so there was none of the miner's stout muscle built up on you yet. We shared two more drinks, grimacing at each other through the liquor's harsh burn. By the time we'd gotten to the fifth tune without stopping, a curl of hair, darkened and damp, flicked forwards onto your brow. There was a deep rosiness daubed high across your cheeks. From the heat, I'd guessed. When the music slowed to a ballad you nodded to the door.

I was more than happy, naturally. I'd been tossed between the men for a few hours now, with barely a break between dances. Freezing or not, my head was starting to fog over with a thickness that only fresh air would cure. I threw on one of the furs and stepped out onto the deck. The wooden boards were slippy with ice.

You came out a minute later, carrying two full tin cups. I grunted my thanks.

There was a fleeting lick of amber up your side from the lamplight inside before the door clicked shut behind you.

We leant over the deck balcony and stared out into the treeline. The tops caught the moonlight and lit up like silver feathers.

"Got a light?" you asked, a straight dangling from your lip.

I did, of course. I lit my own, then tilted my chin up. You hunched over and raised a hand to shelter the gap between us from the wind. Your fingers were quite fine, considering our line of work. The tips of them were hot when they brushed against my cheek. You smelled like pine and soap and smoke, and I could taste the fire of the whisky on your breath.

My skin prickled. I puffed a couple of times until your straight was lit, then pulled away and drew my coat tighter around myself. Damn cold.

You hadn't bothered with a coat. The whisky was enough, I thought, until you shivered a little.

"You warm enough?" I asked.

"Plenty," you said.

You didn't say much. You never did. At least, not with words. Your eyes always did the talking. And with barely a foot of night between us, they had much to say tonight.

The drink made my head spin. I'd had enough that stringing together a sentence was getting to be a task, so I decided to try your way of talking. The windows to the cabin were covered with thick curtains and furs to block out the draughts, and with the moon as the only witness I figured it safe enough to risk a longer look than I might've done inside.

You'd shaved today. I saw the hazy shadow coming back in under your jaw already. I was glad that you'd left the moustache. I thought it was funny how you'd cleaned up for the party tonight. How you'd worn a nice, clean cream shirt tonight, with no stains from the soot. How you'd wanted to look your best for a group of tired and lonely men. How you'd danced with none of them, besides me.

Snow had started to fall again. Soft and downy, hanging thick in the air, it made a blanket of sorts to cushion us from the raucous sounds inside.

"It's been grand tonight," you said. "A right bacchanal."

You'd called it a bacchanal before. Not a dance, like the rest of us. None of us had known the word. With your fair hair and delicate features and fine accent, I'd always wondered that you seemed out of place. I wondered what had brought you here. Maybe it was why you didn't speak.

"You dance well," I said. It was a lie, but the upwards curl of your lip around the straight was worth a little staining of the soul.

You didn't reply. I saw what you wanted to say.

I wanted you to say it, too. But I didn't dig. I watched you ash out your straight upon the bannister that we were leant against, and stride back towards the door. Fingers on the handle, latch half depressed by your thumb, you turned back to give me another one of those long looks of yours. I think I knew what you'd said with it. You smiled and headed back in.

For a while, I stood there under the moon. With my big coat, my cup of whisky and another fresh smoke, the night barely touched me. I thought about you and let out an amused huff. Silver smoke curled around my hand and flitted off upwards. You were right, of course. The dance had been grand. With a bit of luck, I thought, it'd be better next week. Maybe you'd get the scarf. I'd ask you to dance, and not let you go, that time. I ground the straight out next to where you'd done the same.

There was always another Saturday.

[lunarheslwt]

28th appreciation fic recs: February edition

Hi! Welcome to the February fic rec list! I wanted to put together all the fics I've read and loved over this month for the 28th appreciation, so here they are! Click on the links for full tags and summaries. If you read any of these make sure to show the authors some love by leaving kudos and comments, and sharing any fic posts!

☁️To you I can admit, I'm just too soft for all of it by @starryhaze28

(28k / not rated / non traditional a/b/o)

“Harry?” Louis asks when he hears the frantic crying coming through the speaker. “H, darling what's wrong?” Concerned, Louis puts on his shoes as he keeps hearing the sobs. It’s the middle of the night and the phone call has definitely pulled Louis out of his deep slumber, but Harry is crying, and Louis has to be with him. “It’ll be okay, baby, I'm gonna come over, okay? You just- Haz you have to send me your address, yeah? Can you do that for me?” Louis asks, trying to remain as poised as possible as he presses his phone between his ear and shoulder so he can grab his jacket. “No.” Harry cries out. “It's all wrong, Lou- It’s-” Another sob. “I hate it, Lou, I hate it so, so much, make it stop.” the nesting shop au

Thoughts: the softest dearest thing you'll read, characters I would die for, a true comfort read

☁️While you're figuring it out by @silverstuff50

(4k / E / wholesome bdsm)

Harry is in a rut and his mood is getting lower and lower. Louis helps him with love and kink.

Thoughts: if you love kink, and if you love the softness and emotions that come with established relationships, then this is for you, its the perfect combination!

☁️On that note by @allwaswell16

(6k / E / pen pals, getting together)

Louis’ office job on an omega only floor would be absolutely fine, if not for the alphas he and his friends have to deal with in the building. But although they’ve never met face to face, the friendly notes sent between him and Harry in Purchasing help him get through the day.

Thoughts: this was so cute, and Louis' character esp is so endearing, and the way they get together is so precious !

☁️(drippin' on me) till my feet are wet by @justanothershadeofblue

(3k / E / watersports)

They’ve known each other so long, is the thing. More than a decade, at this point; their entire adult lives. They know each other with a deep and abiding familiarity, know each other's ins and outs, hopes and fears, secrets and kinks. There’s nothing hidden between them, and little that escapes each other’s notice. All of which is to say, Louis knows exactly what Harry’s up to, making this huge pitcher of lemonade and waiting until the lads were out the door to bring it outside and press a cold glass into Louis’ hand. He’d poured the liquid carefully, sunglasses concealing his gaze as he filled it to the top. “Drink up,” Harry had said, and Louis had, tipping the contents down his throat in one long pull, letting a few drops slip free and run down, chilled and sweet, into his short beard. He’d caught Harry’s eye and held out his glass for more. “Good,” Harry had said, voice deep, and filled it again.

Thoughts: so. fucking. hot. And bonus: the tenderness that comes with established relationship. Best of both worlds really, so it's perfection.

☁️We don't fight fair by @hellolovers13

(2k / E / chase, non traditional a/b/o)

“What, you think I'll just roll over for you now?” The smirk on Louis’ face was almost devilish. “Yes,” He breathed against Harry’s lips, cocky and sure, like it was a fact of life. It sent all kinds of shivers through Harry. God, but he wanted to. Wanted Louis to have him right against this wall, let everyone see how he fell apart under him. But not tonight. Harry fixed his posture, standing up straighter and trying to get himself under control. “I don't think so, omega.” Or: Nothing like a little chase to start off Louis' heat.

Thoughts: *muffled screaming*. Genuinely was so hot I was speechless for a good while. If that's not convincing: there's a chase. And it's O/O. I'm begging y'all to go read this.

☁️Man spreading by @red-pandaaa

(2k / E / pwp)

“Manspreading is such a bad habit,” Harry said, mainly because he felt like he was obligated to. “Is that so?” Louis said, in a tone that challenged Harry to disagree. Harry nodded as firmly as he could. “I think you should try to tone down the manspreading a bit.” “Maybe I should spread out my man instead,” Louis mused. OR Harry complains about Louis manspreading, Louis makes a joke, and rimming ensues

Thoughts: short and sexy, i loved it sm, this ones for the uh...rimming enthusiasts!

☁️Trippin', Stumblin' by @itsnotreal

(4k / M / friends to lovers fluff)

Harry was falling for Louis. No, really. He was literally falling for Louis— well, okay, maybe it was because of him. Technicalities. Or the one where Harry is super clumsy but still manages to catch Louis’ attention.

Thoughts: nervous awkward harry is so precious to me, this was so fucking cute and PRECIOUS

☁️You can try to hide by @itsnotreal

(6k / E / cnc, hunter prey kink)

Harry has managed to keep his innermost thoughts at bay when he’s around Louis, but what happens when he shows up unannounced one night when Harry’s at his most vulnerable.

Thoughts: read tags! cnc done WELL, so gripping so thrilling, so hot. The mind reading is SUCH a nice touch ahhhh

☁️Shut your mouth, baby by @larry-hiatus

(3k / E / new years smut)

While fooling around in a closet at a New Year’s Eve party, Louis can’t seem to keep quiet. All he needs to do is hold off until midnight, when Harry will finally uncover his mouth and let him come at full volume.

Thoughts: Em never misses with the smut so this is another banger, bonus: desperate overwhelmed Louis. So. 10/10 in my mind.

And that's it! Yet another short list bc I've been so tired and falling asleep before I could read sigh. Also yes literally almost all are smut but in my defence it's because I didn't get time to read long fics and short ones are usually smut. But then again we love and support smut in this house so you're welcome. Send some love to the authors if you check out any of these!!

[dontyouworrydaddy]

can you do a 141 + könig where they all are watching a horror movie and expect reader to be scared and jumpy, but instead reader is enjoying the movie and even laughs at some parts! like reader isnt phased by the gorey movie😭 <3

𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

Task Force 141 (+König) + gn! reader

Hiiiii💘💘 I really love this idea. Like horror movies aren’t even scary😔 I just sit there with a straight face and I‘m like: ok😬

ANYWAYS HOPE YOU LOVE THIS!

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The dimly lit room was filled with the hushed voices of the boys that prepared for their movie night. Ghost, Gaz, Soap, Price, König, and you had all gathered around a large screen in the basement of your base. They had chosen a horror movie, expecting that you, the newest addition to their team, would be scared out of your wits.

But little did they know that horror movies don’t have an impact on you since you grew up watching saw and other brutal shit.

"Alright, lads and lass," Price said, settling into his seat with a mischievous glint in his eye, "we've got a real spine-chiller for tonight. Let's see who's the first to jump out of their skin."

The opening credits of the movie rolled, eerie music accompanying the names of the actors and the sinister title. Ghost, who was sitting beside you, leaned in and whispered, "Get ready to be terrified, little soldier."

You simply grinned and replied, "Oh, I love a good horror movie. I doubt anything can spook me."

As the movie's suspenseful music built, the tension in the room grew palpable. The first jump-scare approached, and the team watched with bated breath. But when the horrifying image flashed on the screen, you burst out laughing.

Gaz and Soap exchanged surprised glances. "What's so funny, y/n?" Gaz asked.

You shrugged, your eyes still on the screen. "It's just... so over the top. Look at that fake blood. It's practically neon!"

The team couldn't believe it. As the movie continued, the scary scenes kept coming, and you continued to react with amusement rather than fear. You found the whole experience rather comical, pointing out the clichés and tropes as the story began to unfold.

Price, who was trying his best not to smile, muttered, "I've never seen someone find a horror movie this entertaining."

König, who had been observing silently, joined in. "You have a point. It's like you're watching a comedy, not a horror movie."

During a particularly gory scene, you didn't flinch, but instead commented, "Wow, they really went all out with the fake blood and special effects. It's like they're trying to see how creative they can get with it."

Ghost couldn't help but chuckle. "You've got a weird perspective. Most folks would be hiding under the covers by now. Literally, what’s wrong with you?"

As the movie reached its climax, the rest of the team started to relax. They had expected a night of screams and shivers, but your lighthearted approach had lightened the mood.

In the end, when the movie finally concluded with a final jumpscare, the rest of the team waited for your reaction. But instead of fear, you burst into laughter, clapping your hands. "That was brilliant! Such a funny scene! Literally saved the whole movie!"

Price leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in amusement. "Well, I'll be damned. You've got nerves of steel, y/n."

The others couldn't help but agree, and they all started to laugh as well. The horror movie had turned into an unexpected comedy night, thanks to you being unable to be scared.

As you all left the room, still chuckling and recounting the movie's amusing moments, König approached you and said, "You certainly have a way for finding humor in the darkest places, Soldat. It's quite… different.."

[cmrosens]

Worldbuilding Thoughts 3

Ok so one thing I don't see very much in medieval fantasy settings with a royalty system is the issue of the monarch travelling with a retinue. If you're writing one like GoT and you're into the whole idea of the monarch needing to travel (trust me, if it's medieval, they really do need to do a circuit of their kingdom, even if administration and judicial system has been centralised. If you don't, you can't monitor the nobles on the periphery, and you ... really need to do that).

If this is something you've considered, ignore, if not, I was just thinking about the medieval England situation for the earlier kings (William I to John).

Do you know how many the king travels with?? How many guards how many horsemen, lads to take care of the horses, courtesans, scribes, courtiers who need to stay close, accountants, etc? Now have a look at the size of the castles. They're not that big. You have to scale the castle to the landscape (and really seriously consider how long it takes to build a big one). You've got space for a prestigious guest, and then like. 20 extras. At an absolute push, in some cases. Ok, bigger ones, yeah ram 100 in.

The king's got 200 men. He doesn't scale down to stay at a castle or fortified manor that fits 50max and already has 30 occupants. He just rocks up. People do not want him to, but he does anyway.

What used to happen in Medieval England was - there wasn't ever enough space. Literally none. There was also no system, it was King gets the best guest room, everyone who needs to be immediately close to him crashes on the floor, and if you're not fast enough and a bit further down the pecking order, you're marching into someone's house and saying "I'm staying here tonight" and sleeping downstairs with the goats. There are sources of courtiers bitterly complaining they had to sleep in barns and some "camping" (sleeping rough in the rain) in the forest because there was NO SPACE FOR THEM in the castle/fortified manor or in the surrounding villages because they came late due to their admin duties holding them up. And they don't have a tent. They have to literally sleep outside with their cloaks over them. Did they die of exposure? I mean, sometimes. Did they catch chills and die of those? Sure, yeah. Did it really piss them off? Every time.

(Peasant perspective: So many young* angry men with swords with untreated PTSD from all the war/general life trauma, chips on their shoulders and complexes about being younger sons (the spare not the heir) and desperate to prove themselves in a chivalric context of fighting/shagging prowess but they've been give a lot of admin duties to do, drinking a lot of alcohol every single day. Since being on the road they have had to cut down on the alcohol which hasn't improved their mood. And they're all coming to your village. And you can't feed or house them all.)

Then the king decides to leave.

It takes a good few hours to let everyone know because **nobody knows where anyone is**. You have to prep the supply wagons and the horses. And the king stands up after breakfast and says "I want to leave NOW"

Then he changes his mind.

Now you're leaving tomorrow afternoon.

If you're trying to picture this, with a lot of highly strung horses in an enclosed space being yelled at and dragged into position to cut down time, and people running to comb the villages and the woods for stragglers and leave messages for others coming through later, it's chaos. Absolute chaos.

Now imagine being put in charge of it.

So many plot points to play with there.

*For reference, because I've been watching Robin Hood adaptations lately, Richard 1 "the Lionheart" is depicted as an older man in all the films but he was only 42 when he died (b. 1157, d. 1199). The Third Crusade was 1189, when he was 32. He's played by Sean bloody Connery in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, when he actually was around the same age Richard Armitage was when he played Guy of Gisborne in the BBC Robin Hood series. (For context). Prince John was 33 in 1199 when he became king and only 23 when Richard went off to war. We're often largely talking about an intensely homosocial group of men in their 20s and 30s. ladsladslads

In the 14thC, one of the Earls of the March led his first campaign in the Hundred Years' War at the age of 17. ladsladsladsla-

[crystalbeetle888]

Voyage into the Unknown Pt.6

Master List Pt.5 - Pt.6 - Pt.7

Many more days pass, riding across fields and forest, through little valleys and rivers, up and down hills, in rain and sun. And during that time, I have only grown closer to Kili.  Not forgetting Bilbo, and Fili. Their company is the only thing keeping me sane as the older men continuously thwart any attempt of mine at helping. I feel stir-crazy as the days melt together, with nothing productive to do except talk, ride, and train at sword fight with Fili until dusk. 

The company rides up a grassy hill laying at the bottom of a tall cliff-face, large boulders scattered along the way. At the top, the ruins of an abandoned house lay. Thorin rides up to it “We’ll camp her for the night” He says, Gandalf already wandering around, inspecting the house. “Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them” he says to his nephews. Hoping off my horse I hand Kili the reins, and take my pack down “I suppose I won't be training with your brother tonight then” I swing my now very heavy bag on my back. “Well you can always watch the ponies with us, keep us company” I look over at Thorin who seems to be arguing with Gandalf in the ruined house “I’m not sure that he’s in the mood for suggestions right now, plus I think he’d say I’m ‘too distracting’” I mock Thorins’ deeper voice. Kili chuckles “You’re probably right”. “I’m definitely right,” I nod, pursing my lips. “And how do you know that?” he asks, “Because I’m a woman, and I know everything” we laugh together, Kili nodding along until a loud outraged voice interrupts us “Myself, Mr.Baggins!” Gandalf storms past us “I’ve had enough of dwarves for one day” I hear him mutter to himself as he wanders off into the wild. “Come on, Bomber, we’re hungry” Thorin calls over. The company whispers to one another “Where do you think he’s going?” I turn to Kili in concern, “Probably just off for a smoke, maybe a bath” He shrugs, not caring that the powerful being has essentially left us until further notice. Anxiety begins to creep into my mind, making me feel restless. Kili wanders off with his brother taking the ponies with him. 

Settling in for the night, Bofur fills up peoples’ bowls with the thick stew. I get up and hop in line for seconds, behind Bomber, who patiently waits for his turn. Bilbo fidgets, walking back and forth “He’s been a long time” He stomps over, “Who?” Bofur asks, “Gandalf” Bilbo stresses, Bofur scoffs “He’s a Wizard. He does as he chooses. Here, do us a favour. Take these to the lads” He hands over two bowls to Bilbo who didn’t really want to help out. Bomber sneaking the ladle for his fourth serving, tries to sip straight out the spoon “Stop it. You’ve had plenty” Bofur chides him, wrestling the ladle from him. “Let him eat if he’s hungry” I say, frowning at Bofur. The two turn to look at me, Bomber smiling under his thick braided beard, and Bofur shaking his head “Don’t start down that road lass, he’ll eat you out of house and home” He wags his finger. I roll my eyes at his antics “He’s not a bottomless pit”. Bofur laughs and whacks Bombers fat belly “He’ll eat a whole cheese wheel and then some lass” the two dwarves laugh, Bomber looking quite proud of himself. “Bullshit” I say, causing the two to chortle louder “Language lass! Bombers appetite is something to behold” he exclaims. I uh huh them, taking the ladle and pouring a scoop into my bowl “I’ll believe it when I see it mate” “Well, maybe one day you’ll have to experience a true dwarvish feast, that’s where the real action happens” He winks and I laugh “I suppose I’ll have to then aye” He nods with a chuckle as I turn away, and walk around the socialising men to find a quiet spot to sit and enjoy my meal. 

The wind is nice and cool after a long hot day of horse riding, my legs ache deeply, my heart aching also. Homesickness isn’t something I thought I would be feeling. But here I am, sadly sipping my stew, longing for my daily, or even weekly routine. Opening up the studio in the early morning, working away at my latest collection of paintings until noon, where I would then go and help teach at the local dojo to the juniors class. Some may think my schedule was repetitive or boring, but I really enjoyed the normality and structure. Always buying a vanilla iced chai from the bakery next door, possibly a mini pizza or pasty. Always passing by the same calico street cat, sitting on the town statue down the front most street, waiting for pets or food offerings. I had always thought her name was Fatty or Big Bess, Bessie for short. But I’ve heard other suggestions like Spot or Tiger, or more suitable ones for her weight like Jabba or Big girl.

I sniffle, face heating up at the thought of home. Taking a deep breath to settle my heart, I barely notice Balin walking over “You alright lass?” I jump, his voice surprising me, “Yeah just missing home, you know” I continue to sip on my now cold soup. “Aye I know that feeling well” He sits down on a rock beside me “Sometimes it helps to talk of it” He smiles warmly at me “Tell me about it hay?”. I sigh “I was actually thinking of a fat street cat” I laugh sadly and he chuckles “Not thinking of family?” He jokes. I smile strained at him “No, I don’t have any family left” stir my soup aimlessly. “I’m sorry lass, I didn’t mean anything by it” He apologises quickly “Nah it’s all good mate, they died a long time ago” I stare out over the dark valley, clouds rolling over the hills. “How’d they pass?” He asks quietly, “My mother died of- uh a brain illness, and my father died from- overindulgence in substance” I say before sculling the last of cold stew in one gulp. “I’m sorry lass, sometimes terrible things occur and all we can do is hold out, in hope of a better day” He leans over and pats my shoulder in a very fatherly way, causing my eyes to water “Thank you” I whisper. 

The moment of solemn silence between us is broken by two princes rushing through the brush shouting “Thorin! Mountain trolls have snatched the ponies!” they shout alerting the company “Bilbo went ahead to try and release them, we don’t know how long he’ll last” Fear strikes my body ‘Shits’ just gotten real’ I think scared as the men grab their weapons, preparing for a fight ‘What the fuck is a mountain troll?’ I place my hand on my sheathed sword. I've never had to use this in an actual fight before, let alone aim to kill someone. Balin places his hand on mine “Stay here lass, if we don’t return, run like the wind and find Gandalf”. I nod shamefully, knowing I won’t be of much use. As the men march off to battle, the princes leading the way, a deafening silence washes over the camp. My anxiety spiking through the roof, ‘When am I supposed to run?’ ‘Where am I supposed to go’ and most nerve-wracking ‘What if they need help?’ I jitter and buzz with adrenaline, pacing around the camp. “How about I just go and check it out? Yeah, then if they need help I’ll- do- something” I hype myself up. Pulling out my machete from my pack, I jog into the woods, making sure to keep low. A bright glow lights up the forest ‘How did we not notice them?’. I creep up to the light and hide in a bush at the top of the mound, overlooking their camp. In the centre of the clearing a large bonfire is lit, with some of the dwarves spit-roasting over it. Three giant, ugly, ‘mountain trolls’ stand around arguing with Bilbo about how they're going to cook the company, before one of them picks up Bomber and dangles him over his mouth. Sliding on my belly, down the mound and through the brush, I sneak up behind Thorin who lays closest, and grab the rope tying his sack closed. Thorin jumps at the touch before I shush him, working on cutting him free.

“Oh, not that one. He’s infected.” The troll turns to look at him “Huh?” “You what?” they ask outraged. “Yeah, he’s got worms in his- tubes” Bilbo makes something up quickly, and to my surprise the troll toss Bomber back on the pile with a loud “Eww!”. “In fact, they all have. They're infested with parasites. It’s a terrible business and I wouldn't risk it. I really wouldn’t” He tries to convince them. 

Their conversation about parasites drift into the background as I focus on cutting though this stupidly thick rope, with my stupidly small pocket knife. Finally cutting it, I pull the cord loose from around Thorin's neck, and attempt to grasp the back of Thorin's shirt and pull him up. However he’s much heavier than I expected, and I struggle to pull him even an inch up into the scrub. “Come here you!” one of the trolls exclaims before I am suddenly lifted up by my leg. “Oi look Tom, look what I've got” He proudly waves me in the air, ragdolling me, to the other trolls. “Put her down!” “Leave the lass alone!” the company shouts angrily. The troll brings me to his face and gives me a long sniff. “Mmmh man-flesh” he says, rancid breath wafting over my face causing me to dry-heave upside-down “And it’s a female” he says excitedly. “Taste better than the males” He raises me high above his face causing me to shout out in fear and wriggle furiously in his grip, kicking and punching his hand “Put me down you fat ugly cunt!” I scream at him causing him to crack up laughing. “Do you ‘ear that Will? This ones’ got fight in it” He shakes me around violently, ceasing my wriggling. 

“The dawn will take you all!” Gandalf’s voice bellows over the commotion. “Who’s that?” “No idea.” “Can we eat him too?” the trolls ask before Gandalf strikes the stone he stands on, breaking it in half and allowing the morning light to cascade over the trolls. They retract, groaning in pain as they quickly turn to stone. The company cheers joyfully “Oh, get your foot out of my back” Dwalin complains from the spit-roast. Still hanging upside-down in the dead troll's grip, the blood really begins to rush to my head. “A little help anyone” I mutter weakly as my vision begins to spot. “Just hold on lass we’ll get you down” someone yells.

Eventually, after they had saved themselves, the dwarves managed to get me on the ground again. “You could’ve sustained serious injury, have you no care for yourself?” Thorin hisses as he marches over. Tired and nauseous, I lay flat on the dewy grass, without saying a word in response. I groan in discomfort, being shook around like that has really pulled everything out of place. “Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” He scoffs. “Yeah, I do have something to say actually. Sod off!” I bark back at him before covering my eyes with my arm, a headache slowly creeps up my neck. Balin interrupts Thorin by saying something in Khazdul, causing him to back off in a huff. Thorin then goes to harass Gandalf leaving Balin to tend to my wounds.

Master List Pt.5 - Pt.6 - Pt.7

[angst-fairygodmother]

I petition for a jealous samwise gamgee x reader fic. I've requested this before but I don't know what happened to it. I love you and your work sincerely hope a fun time writing for you. Goodluck godbless

A/N: Hello lovely, you are absolutely right that you requested this quite some time ago. I lost it in the shuffle of things (rip my accidentally deleted wip list) and it completely slipped my mind! I hope you will forgive me, and enjoy :) Word Count: 2255 Rating: G - flirting, jealousy, alcohol

Samwise Gamgee was the sort to drive girls mad. He was sweet, in a bumbling sort of way, always ready with a shy smile or a stumbled verse, and gentle, and steady. He knew the value of an honest day's work, and he was always there to support his friends, figuratively or, after a long night at the Green Dragon, literally, making sure they made it safely to bed and had water and a soothing herbal tea ready when they woke with a horrible hangover. 

Though you weren't as close with him as Master Frodo Baggins (no one in all the Shire was) you were lucky enough to count yourself among Sam's dearest friends, and had been all your life on account of your father's sister being thick as thieves with the Gaffer's late wife, Sam's dear mother. And you would be lying if you said your heart didn't flutter like a dove when his soft blue eyes turned on you, not staring exactly but making it clear that he was listening with undivided attention. But you knew his own lay with pretty, sweet, golden-curled Rosie Cotton, another one of your dear friends, and never desired to interfere, placing both their happiness above your own.

~

You giggled, bringing a hand to your mouth to hide your smile as a younger Bracegirdles — of Hardbottle, as opposed to some lesser Bracegirdle cousin that might be out there in theory somewhere — whispered a joke into your ear, ostensibly in order to be heard over the noise of the crowd’s singing and the band in the corner, but you were pretty sure it was in part to try to make you blush. They had been rather attentive to you in the past few weeks, and though you had no real interest in courting them, you welcomed the attention, it was nice to feel wanted after all.

Even if, you thought bitterly, it wasn’t by the person you would have hoped. Your eyes fell to him in the crowd, sitting in a corner and nursing a drink while Frodo and his cousin Pippin Took and their friend Merry all swayed and sang along to the music, cajoling Sam to join in. He looked miserable, frowning at his drink as if he thought to find the Gaffer’s fertilizer floating in it, and your heart ached to go to him and try to put a smile on his face. But you were not Rosie, who wasn’t working tonight (which you were sure was the cause of his obvious foul mood), so you stood no more chance than the lads did.

When your proffered paramour suggested they go to get you a second ale, you heartily agreed, despite having not finished the first, if only to get a moment’s peace from their attentions. You couldn’t help a sigh of relief as they swaggered off, which quickly turned to a gasp of surprise when a new hobbit appeared at your elbow.

“Oh! Sam!” you said, reflexively pressing a hand to your chest as if to hold in your racing heart, “I didn’t see you there.” 

“You and Leopold are looking awfully chummy,” he said glumly in place of a greeting.

You frowned, eyebrows dipping low. You hadn’t even remembered his first name until that moment. But he was right that you had been taking the affection where you could, even if it really meant nothing to you and you wouldn’t think on it again once you were home safely in your family’s hobbit hole for the night, and you worried for a moment that you might be giving the wrong idea.

“He’s quite nice, for a Bracegirdle,” you shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “There’s nothing wrong with getting to know him better, is there?”

“Getting to know him better?” Sam scoffed, sounding almost angry with the prospect, and making your puzzled feeling sink further in. “The way he was hanging on you, have you set a wedding date yet?”

“Excuse me?” Now you were getting upset, and set your drink down heavily on the table so that you could turn to Sam more fully, hands planted on your hips. 

“I’m just saying, as it were, that you were a lot more chummy with him than most people.” Even in the smoky taproom you could tell that his cheeks were reddening and he stumbled over his words. “It was practically flirting. Ain’t nothing wrong with it, but that it’s fast. I’ve never seen you talking to him before, and…and…” he trailed off.

“And what, Sam?” you demanded, feeling your own anger and embarrassment heating at the back of your neck. “You’re not my father, and it’s hardly any of your business who I might be talking to, especially when your attention is so focused elsewhere. How do you know it’s my first time talking to Leonard, when you’re always distracted moon-eying after Rosie?”

“Leopold,” the hobbit in question said suddenly, stepping between you and Sam to place the drinks on the table, and then withdrawing, a dejected expression marring his features that had been so lively earlier. You knew you should feel guiltier, but you were distracted by your own indignation, and the strange way that Sam was looking at you. 

“I…” Sam stared open-mouthed at you for a moment longer before turning and fleeing, back to the safety of his friends in the corner and leaving you alone and humiliated. 

With a groan and a roll of your eyes, you drained your first tankard and left the second on the table, walking out of the Green Dragon in the hopes that the cool evening would soothe your temper.

~

You didn’t see Sam for several days after that, though you did occasionally catch glimpses of Merry and Pippin, usually looking over at you and then ducking their heads together conspiratorially and giggling. It felt odd, being in this unspoken fight with your best friend, but your pride stopped you from being the first to apologize. After all, you hadn’t done anything wrong but try to move on from the unrequited love you felt for him. 

As the sun began to set and the spring evening air grew chilly, you set down your sewing and sighed, placing your face in your hands to scrub away the tiredness. Soon you would have to move inside and light a candle if you were going to continue working, and the prospect felt miserable, another night spent alone. 

Suddenly, you felt your basket snatched away from where it sat by your feet, and looked up just in time to see someone — you didn’t want to accuse or assume, but at least one of them was finely dressed for being a hobbit, and his dark hair was wild in a way that only Frodo’s could be described as — disappear around the corner of the lane with your things. With a cry of outrage and surprise, you stood quickly, gathering your skirts at your hip, not caring that your bloomers showed since there was no one around, and chased after them. 

The lanes were empty and it shocked you how refreshing it felt to simply race along them, the cool evening air kissing your cheeks and toying with your hair. Your eyes didn’t ache from squinting at stitches, your hands didn’t ache from where the needle slipped, and most importantly, your heart didn’t ache for all the love you thought you lost. 

And then the ache you felt was much more real as you crashed headlong into someone else. 

“Woah, careful,” he said, placing his hands on your shoulders to steady you, and unintentionally drawing your faces close. “Are you alright?”

Your cheeks heated rapidly as you stared into those concerned blue eyes, and words failed you for a moment.

“Oh, hi Sam. Sorry. I was just–” you realized that you were still holding your skirts, bloomers exposed for all the world, and more importantly him, to see. Your face felt like it was on fire as you dropped the gathered cloth and stumbled back to smooth it down, the motion catching his attention and causing his ears and cheeks to turn pink. 

“What’s got you in such a hurry?” he smiled shyly at you, though the rest of his face remained puzzled and you had to fight back a laugh at his endearing expression. 

“Someone thought tonight was a good night for pranks, so I’m trying to get my sewing back. I didn’t mean to bump into you…”

“Oh, how odd. My gardening gloves also grew legs. But I figured they’d get bored eventually. Yours went a bit farther though, I don’t blame you for running.”

As you spoke, you heard giggling from around the corner that confirmed your earlier suspicions of the three culprits. But instead of being angry, you couldn’t help being grateful. This conversation, stilted though it was, felt so much better than the days of silence, enough that you were ready to swallow your pride to make sure it continued.

“Listen, Sam,” you found yourself unable to look at him, instead studying the rocks on the path between you while you spoke. “About the other day…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he assured you, looking sheepish. “I shouldn’t have gotten so mad…”

“Why…why did you?” your voice was soft, hesitant. 

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No.” Your heart raced like a bird beating against your chest, trying to escape your ribcage. You knew what you wanted the answer to be, but it almost felt like too much to hope. 

“I…well I was jealous…of Leopold.” His cheeks were as red as the Gaffer’s prize tomatoes and you felt your eyes widen. 

“Wait, what? Why would you ever be…?”

“The way he was making you laugh, and how light and happy and beautiful you were. I wanted to be the one doing that.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did. You’ve been my best friend for our whole lives.”

“Oh.” Of course that was what it was. You felt your heart sink. Sam had always felt strongly for all of the people in his life, it was one of his best features, and so seeing you having fun with someone else, especially while he was miserably longing for Rosie instead would hurt him. Of course. 

“And then when you said something about Rosie, I got so angry.” He bit his lip and then rushed to add. “At myself of course, not at you. I couldn’t believe I had been so stupid. And then, I guess I was embarrassed.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Well it’s just…there I was getting jealous and upset when I had never said anything, and given you all the wrong ideas, and I had no right to that, and I felt foolish, and didn’t know how to fix it.” 

“Wrong ideas? Said anything? Sam, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to confess that you’re in love with me. But surely that’s not the case, so I must be missing something, and need you to be clearer.” Your laugh as you spoke was high and forced, but it was all you could do.

Sam sighed and shook his head, stepping close and raising a hand to try and cradle the back of your head. You startled, stumbling back from him, eyes wide and heart racing even faster if that was possible.

“What are you doing Sam?”

“Will you just trust me for a second?”

“I always trust you,” you said earnestly, relaxing as he reached again to touch you. 

A breath later, his lips were brushing yours, and one of his hands was cradling the back of your neck, fingertips in your hair, and his other hand was holding yours. Your skin lit up, feeling like a thousand of Gandalf’s fireworks were sparking where Sam touched you.

“Oh.” You breathed when he pulled away, all too soon. 

“Now do you understand? I love you, I’ve always loved you.” 

“But what about Rosie…?” you wanted to kick yourself, but your mind hadn’t quite caught up to the rest of reality, so it tumbled out. 

Thankfully, he laughed, the sound bright and beautiful and making your poor heart do a flip. “Rosie’s just a friend. Didn’t it ever occur to you that every time I was looking in her direction ‘moon-eyed’ it was because you were right beside her?”

It hadn’t.

“Oh Sam, I’m sorry. I never thought…I mean I wished but…” you felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you smiled at him. When he smiled back just as bright, the world felt clearer and sharper than it had in a long time. “I love you too. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Don’t be. We were both fools, and it’s past now. We can make up for the time, if you’ll let me court you?”

“I would like nothing more.” You threaded your fingers with his, stepping close in the hopes of kissing him again.

But alas, it didn’t come, the moment interrupted by whoops of delight as Pippin, Merry, and Frodo, and to your shock Rosie herself, all burst from the bushes where they’d been hiding with your purloined things. You couldn’t help but laugh as they threw their arms around you and Sam in a messy group hug before tugging you both down the road toward the Green Dragon for a celebratory drink.  Kissing and courting would have to wait, but at least, with your hand in his, you knew that it wouldn’t be only in your dreams.

[gstnxgrd]

What: Closed starter for @dcrlingblves Who: Gaston & Wendy Where: Gerard Lodge's Monthly Charity Gala

Gaston had spent his entire evening floating from person to person, buttering them up and trying his damn hardest to get them to unzip their wallets and to donate to his noble cause once again. It was at the suggestion of his mother to put on this monthly shin dig, and it gave the man an excuse to put a hefty drinks bill onto the company's expenses, which always made him happy. There was also the more than positive press that came along with it, and any kind of ego boost, even in the form of a dying art such as the printed news gave Gaston an excuse to really show off.

Speaking of news, Gaston spotted his favorite pretty little journalist from across the room, and after necking back his eight whiskey rocks of the night, he felt he was in the right sort of mood to take another stab at the Darling girl. Hoping tonight may just well be his lucky night.

"It's nice to know that boss of yours always knows to send the right girl for the job." He muttered as he moved to stand by Wendy. "I remember he once tried getting that asshole Henry to cover a story here at the lodge, ended up kicking the poor lad out, clearly had far too much free champagne, ended up spouting all sorts of nonsense."

"Sure your little puff will be nothing but good news, huh, Wends?"

[thetarttfuldickhead]

A Jamie-centric pre-OT3 Christmas story told in 25 short chapters.

Masterpost / AO3

1. Prologue

This is a Christmas story. It begins—

—in December, in London, and with the whole of AFC Richmond spilling out from a theatre in an animated gaggle of waving hands and raised voices.

“Nah, you’re wrong, bruv,” Isaac told Jamie emphatically. "This shit's way better than Mickey's Christmas Carol." 

Jamie rolled his eyes at that insane opinion and set out to explain how Isaac was as wrong as wrong could be (but respectfully, like), while behind them Moe was explaining something about capitals to Thierry and Bhargava handed Dani a tissue.

After Ted had shown them Scrooged for their last team movie night, a heated debate on the best adaptation of A Christmas Carol had led to a seven night movie marathon ending with Isaac taking them all to The Old Vic for the stage version. 

Jamie, something of a theatre expert thanks to Keeley, had helpfully informed everyone that talking to the characters or shouting suggestions during the performance was not allowed, because even though that was still a fucking stupid rule – just imagine someone trying to introduce that to football games, the fans would riot and they’d be right to – that was the sort of thing Jamie did now: he was helpful. Was a team player. Gave useful tips to people before they made fools of themselves, rather than gleefully afterwards. It wasn’t always as much fun, no, but sometimes good in a different sort of way. And it wasn’t like he had much of a choice, anyway; the team had made that plenty clear when he returned to Richmond.

“All right, lads, I’m off,” he called to them now, giving up on trying to convince Isaac of the errors of his taste. Too cold for it. “Got me car over by Park Plaza.”

“See you tomorrow, boyo,” Colin said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Good night, Jamie.” Sam’s smile was still just this side of tentative, but it seemed sincere enough and Jamie couldn’t help but smile back. He was all right, Sam.  

With less than three weeks until Christmas, the London night was chilly as Jamie made his way through it. No snow, naturally – though not unheard of, a white Christmas in the English capital was uncommon indeed. Not that chances were much better up in Manchester.

Manchester. The thought of it brought a small frown to Jamie’s face. He knew he ought to go up there after the game on Boxing Day, to visit Mummy and Simon. Before he was loaned to Richmond he’d always spent Christmas at home; last year, he’d blamed the distance and the fixtures for not being able to make it.

It hadn’t been a lie, but hadn’t been the whole truth either. Secretly, Jamie had been relieved for the excuse to stay away. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see his mum – he always wanted to see his mum – but he hadn’t known to deal with the crushing weight of all the things he couldn’t tell her; of all the things he didn’t want her to know. It had sat heavy and silent between them, a barrier that only seemed to grow higher and higher as he was sent back to City, as he fled City for Lust Conquers All, as he begged his way back to Richmond.

Now things were better, with him and with the team (and from his dad there’d been nothing, not for months now, and maybe this time—but no. Jamie didn’t want to think about Dad now), and it was time, really, to man up and make it up to Manchester. To come clean to  Mummy and have things go back to normal.

Jamie had no fucking idea how to do that. The idea of disappointing her left a sour taste in his mouth and his stomach churning.

Still frowning, Jamie unlocked his car and slipped into the driver’s seat. The Tube would have been quicker, but he hadn’t been in the mood to be recognized tonight. It was all right if people wanted to talk football, but at least one out of three still wanted to yell at him about Amy. Which was really unfair, because nothing on that show had been real, had it, and Amy knew that.

Amy had known that, right?

Didn’t matter now. Stupid shit, over and done with. Jamie Tartt had other things to worry about.

He pulled out of the car park, turned right, and began his journey home.

---

This is a Christmas story, and maybe it begins here too—

­—in a house in Chelsea, on that same December eve, and with Roy Kent keeping an eye on the oven and the time, while over by the table Keeley and his niece were adding increasingly intricate details to the gingerbread dragon-unicorn-princess-whatevers they were making.

Outside, an Aston Martin passed by on its way from Waterloo to Richmond. Roy would have recognized the car, had he seen it, and Keeley too (rather intimately), but the kitchen window was facing the other way and neither of them did.

“Look, Uncle Roy, this one looks just like you,” Phoebe exclaimed, proudly exhibiting a cookie man with curious antlers and a dour expression that did indeed make him look rather like the retired player.

Keeley laughed. “Ha! Yeah, it does!”

Roy growled. It was his fond growl. It was all right this, Keeley and Phoebe and the gingerbread covering every surface in the kitchen; all right in a way not a lot of things had been since he ended his career by sending Jamie Tartt flying to the ground half a year ago.

As for Jamie Tartt… He drove past the house without looking at it twice. He’d never been inside Roy Kent’s home; never known exactly where he lived.   

That would change, before morning broke on Christmas Day. Because this is a Christmas story, and those always come with miracles.

[adzeisval]

Glass Shard

Stede and Izzy get into a bar fight. Also on AO3.

Izzy was in no mood to fight assholes and hoped that the men that were staring at him and Bonnet would think better about starting anything. Bonnet of course was oblivious to the whole situation. Or seemed to be. Sometimes it was hard to tell. 

“I was thinking maybe going to Bermuda to that nice little restaurant we were at a few years ago,” Stede said. 

“That would be nice, Edward would like that and the crew likes it there too.” 

“And you like it there?”

“I do, but that doesn’t really matter, we’re planning for Edward’s birthday.” 

“I know but I’d hate for you to have a bad time on his birthday.” 

“Fuck Bonnet we usually used to just get wasted and do crazy shit,” Izzy said. 

Stede chuckled and Izzy couldn’t help but smile. Over the last few years the man was really growing on him, as much as he hated to admit it. They ordered drinks and Izzy drank and kept and eye on the men in the corner who were still staring at them. Izzy figured he knew why, Bonnet didn’t strike and imposing figure and still carried himself a bit like a wealthy man and Izzy was getting older and had a fucking peg leg, not that made either of them easy marks. 

“I see them,” Bonnet said. 

“Good. Hopefully they think twice about it.” 

“I have a feeling they won’t,” he said. 

Izzy growled, “I am not in the fucking mood.” 

“Neither am I.” 

The men were talking and looking and Izzy knew they were about to start something. Hopefully they would just fuck off.

They didn’t. 

“What are you two lads doing here tonight?”

“Drinking,” Izzy said. 

“It looks like you can afford to share,” the man said. 

“If you’d like to join us for a round I’d be happy to pay,” Stede said sweetly. 

“Oh I think you have more than that.” 

“Fuck off,” Izzy said. 

“Shut up old man, what are you his attack dog?” The men laughed as if that was funny. It wasn’t far from the truth, Izzy didn’t mind thinking of part of his duty to protect like a dog would. He liked the image of loyalty even if it was supposed to be degrading. 

“Some attack dog, fucking crippled bastard.” 

Oh now that was insulting and Izzy felt an itch under his skin to punch the man in his stupid face. 

“Up to you Izzy,” Stede said. 

Izzy gave a little nod and then stood and punched the man in the gut and pushed him on the ground. It felt really, really good, but it started a chain reaction and soon everyone in the bar was fighting. 

Izzy was getting a bit old to fuck around in that kind of fight but he sure as fuck wasn’t going to back down. The fight didn’t really last long, once people realized that Stede and Izzy weren’t an easy mark things died down. 

“You alright Stede?” 

“Yes, you.” 

“Yes, come on let’s get the fuck out of here,” Izzy said. They walked together down toward where the Revenge was docked. It was a good night, Izzy supposed, as neither of them had been hurt. 

They passed by an alley and there was a shuffling noise and…

“Watch out!” 

Izzy spun as Stede cried out and managed to duck out of the way and draw his sword. It was the same two men that had started shit with them in the bar. Izzy stabbed his attacker in the shoulder and he ran off. Izzy heard the sound of a bottle breaking and then a strangled cry.

He turned to see Stede falling to his knees and the other man running off. 

“Stede?” Izzy knelt and…oh fuck…there was a shard of glass stuck in Stede’s throat. 

Stede started to moan but stopped as the shard moved. He looked up at Izzy, eyes wide with fear. 

“Hold on Stede, just stay calm,” Izzy said. Izzy looked up and they were almost home. Izzy didn’t know what to do, pulling the shard could kill Stede. He wasn’t sure if Roach could do anything but he could do more than Izzy. 

“Can you make it back to the ship? I don’t want to leave you to get help,” Izzy said. 

Stede moved a little then once again let out a strangled sound. Fuck. He wasn’t going to be able to walk. 

“Izzy? Stede?” 

“Lucius!” Izzy had never been so glad to see the man, “Stede’s hurt go get help.” 

“Oh fuck, I’m going,” Lucius ran off. Izzy took a steadying breath. 

“Help is coming,” Izzy said, “Let’s get you laying down so you don’t faint.” Izzy helped said down. It was always fucking hard to get down on the ground with his wooden leg. Stede still looked like he was in shock and scared. 

“Just hold on Stede, help is on the way,” Izzy said softly, taking Stede’s shaking hand and giving it a squeeze. Tears slipped down Stede’s cheeks.

“It’s alright Stede, we’ll get you to Roach and he’ll take care of you,” Izzy said, “Fuck I should have been a better protecter.” 

Stede squeezed his hand. He knew that Stede didn’t blame him. Izzy blamed himself though and would blame himself even more if Stede didn’t make it. He couldn’t tell how bad the situation was. Stede wasn’t spitting or coughing blood so maybe the shard wasn’t in his windpipe. The shard wasn’t really pulsing as if it were in an artery or vein. Could Stede have been lucky enough to survive? Izzy hoped so. 

It didn’t take long for the crew to arrive with a stretcher for Stede and they rushed him back to the ship. Ed was almost in hysterics when he saw Stede. Izzy felt horrible. He was the one who started the fight and now Stede might die. If he died…it would destroy Ed and Izzy didn’t think he would survive that. 

Izzy wanted to go hide in the rigging but…well he couldn’t really do that anymore. Instead he leaned against the railing and waited for news. Izzy didn’t know how much time had passed when Edward came and found him. 

“Stede’s going to be alright,” Edward said and Izzy sighed in relief. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry Edward, I…I started the fight. I thought we were safe once we’d left. I didn’t do my job, I didn’t protect him. Fuck, I’m so sorry.” 

“No one’s blaming you Izzy. Shit happens. And I know you don’t start shit without a reason,” Edward said. 

“I shouldn’t have done it. Fuck what do I care if someone calls me a cripple.” 

Ed cringed, “I would have killed them all if I’d heard that. Come on, come sit with me with Stede, he’ll be glad to see us both.” 

Izzy wasn’t sure about that but when Stede woke up he did indeed smile at Izzy. He smiled back and thought maybe things would be alright.

[underwater-i-will-go]

x

it's dark in the room they're in, the air reeks of sandalwood and peppermint, weird combination that. but pleasant nevertheless, different from the hotel rooms at home.

this continues the fic i wrote a couple days ago, thought this could go on for a little longer. i'm a sucker for these two at the moment.

trippier x pope under the cut.

the weather outside was disastrous - their plane had been delayed and it took them another two hours to even arrive at their hotel only for the electricity to be cut off due to the storm. most of the lads took it with humour - "the result can now only be better than this weather, no matter how bad we'll play" eddie joked. hoped he'd keep that one to himself during the press conference, anyway.

just like during england camps, the lads like to visit each other's rooms for chats, to play games or just to pass the times between training and recovery. but tonight felt so different, the hotel staff kept running through the halls to inform them on the power situation, apologising over and over again and that they're working hard on fixing it. kieran was annoyed. it was his 33rd birthday. he couldn't sleep, was glad he'd brought his powerbank so he could at least charge his phone, but as soon as someone figured he had one, it ended up being passed around until, ultimately, it was nowhere to be found anymore, and of course, no one wanted to admit keeping it. just before 12am a bunch of the lads had knocked on his door to bring him a little cake, clearly was brought over all the way from england. it looked a little mushy, the pink sugar writing reading "happy 33rd birthday, captain" slightly smudged, but he didn't mind, appreciated the gesture nevertheless. dan sang happy birthday off tune, the new lad, lewis was his name, lighting up the little candle in the middle of it. "go on mate, make a wish!" anthony cheered. kieran forced a smile, pretended to be happy and that. he closed his eyes and made his wish, blew out the candle and was applauded by everyone that had turned up at his door, one face however missing - nick.

nick's room was all the way down the corridor, which seemed just endless. kieran wasn't going to conquer it more than once, not wanting to seem pushy. not wanting to make it obvious he was in desperate need of comfort, in desperate need to have a word or two with him. needed clearance. night broke in, the streets outside pitch black. no street lights working. darkness wherever you turned.

1am.

rain kept crashing against the windows so hard you'd think they'd shatter any second, as if someone threw rocks against them constantly. the hotel had many windows, the noise making it impossible to sleep. the power had returned for a little while until it was once again cut off. claustrophobic. trapped in a strange place. kieran had struggled with that in the past, but none of his teammates knew about that, didn't think it would ever be relevant. tonight it could be. it wasn't panic attack bad, but it was anxiety going through the roof bad. he had tried to clear his head, drank a lot of water, chatted with alexander in the corridors. "rainy night that is. seems like we can't ever escape it, not even over here." kieran joked. "brought it with us i suppose." alexander seemed tired but just like many others, unable to sleep. it was a strange night. a strange feeling, a strange place. "suppose i should head back to my room, see you in the morning." alexander patted kieran on the shoulder and made his way back to his room, from which you could hear loud chatter and light laughs. kieran peaked through the door before it was shut, spotting dan and fabian playing cards - he would've joined, but was afraid he'd kill the mood with his anxious thoughts. was too afraid to show it. didn't want to be vulnerable.

2am.

nick laid awake. not because of the weather, well, maybe because of that, too, but because he kept thinking about the last time he'd been with kieran. they hadn't really spoken ever since that, nick was afraid he'd gone too far with him. kieran told him it was alright, enjoyed it even, nick felt just dirty. bad memories taking over him. the fear of him ending up just like the man he swore he would become. "i'm not like that, he's not me. i'm not him." kept repeating these words in his head, afraid it would only make it worse. thought about it too much. he needed to clear his head. wanted to go for a late night run, couldn't due to the weather. wanted to see kieran, felt like he couldn't talk whenever he saw him, like something stuck in his throat. rain crashing against the windows like rocks thrown by rebellious teens. nick was hot. the city was moist and currently struck by a heatwave. the acs not working, nothing to distract himself with. phone at 7%. his sister texted him.

"hope you're good x text me when you get to it, mum says hi 👋🏻 "

didn't feel like answering, head too full. thoughts all over the place, the room dark. a single candle is lit by the bathroom door, a scented one. the flame his only company.

3am.

kieran's head was about to explode. he didn't want to talk to anyone - didn't want to alarm the others, let alone the gaffer. it was matchday after all, and kieran was one of the most important figures in the team. the captain. the leader, some might say. wanted to go see nick more than anything, but ever since brentford at home things had changed. it had been roughly two days and maybe he was overthinking it all, but the expression on nick's face right after they'd left the shower was something he had never seen on him, had never seen on anyone at all. he couldn't read him at all, eyes dark, as if he wasn't himself. as if he was in shock, empty. it was his 33rd birthday. a year older. his knees hurt sometimes, the pain in the left one distracting him right now. he worked like a madman on the pitch every week, trained like one too. played 90 minutes every time.

"you're not 19 anymore, remember that. take care." the gaffer would say. sometimes the concept of time would catch up to him, sneak up on him like a bill he hadn't yet payed, like a promise he had broken. time passes quickly in football once you've hit 30, kyle would always say. doesn't matter how good you still are, you will not always be able to hold that standard. you will eventually not be there for the next world cup, the next champions league. pressure. he needs to keep going, this might be the last time he will experience all that. take it all in, take it all in.

4am.

nick woke up in a cold sweat - another nightmare. his face wet, unsure whether he had cried or was just sweaty. maybe a shower will clear his head. he checked his phone, 4:12am. 6% battery, the power still gone. a text from kieran popped up.

"need to talk, mind if head down to yours?" nick swiped upwards and replied with a simple "sure", not wanting to waste more battery life. no time to shower now. he pulled a shirt over his head and got up, leaning on the bed frame for a solid minute. "get yourself together, fucks sake." he spoke to himself, his voice echoing in his head, hand scuffling through his hair. he needed a trim, a shave, too.

a quite knock on his door, so quite it was barely noticeable with what's going on outside. he got up and opened. kieran stood in front of him, black nike shirt, black boxers and white socks with slides. he didn't say a word, didn't need to. "you okay mate?" nick asked, hands in his pockets. "no." kieran pushed nick aside and got in. "alright then" nick shut the door and turned around to see kieran sat on the edge of his bed, hands in his face, sniffling. nick could tell kieran wasn't doing all too well from the moment he had laid eyes on him, but he didn't know it was like that.

"what's happened? you want to talk about it?" kieran shook his head. "it's just. everything, y'know. everything. i'm fucking old. i'm lost. it's my birthday and i'm lost." nick often had a hard time comforting people, especially with the bad headspace he was in himself at the moment. their lives somehow found themselves at a turning point, with separate curses. maybe turning into the same direction. "right. happy birthday, might not be the right time bu-" kieran looked up "it's not that. my knee fucking hurts. it hurts nick. also thanks. i'm OLD!" nick almost cracked a laugh, but he knew this wasn't the right time. "you picked up a knock then? want me to have look at it?" kieran said nothing. just kept whining like a lost dog. nick kneeled down to inspect his knee, somehow.

it's dark in the room they're in, the air reeks of sandalwood and peppermint, weird combination that. but pleasant nevertheless, different from the hotel rooms at home. nick got back up and picked up the candle from the drawer to have a look at kieran's knee. "can't see nothing, maybe you should talk to the physio in the morning?" nick looked up and his eyes met with kieran's, like a magnet, connected. brown meeting blue. earth meeting water. the water collided with the earth, kieran's hand on nick's cheek, wetting it with his tears. nick melted into kieran's hand, like a cat disobeying his owner. "you're so beautiful. oh how i missed you." kieran chuckled "it's only been two days" nick couldn't take his eyes off him - the candle in his hand creating a comfortable warmth around them, alighting every little detail he loved about the man above him. the freckles on his cheeks, his shirt where the collar is ripped just enough for his chest tattoo to peak through, his curly hair, his beard stubble, so scratchy yet so beautiful on him. so afraid to fall in love. so hard not to. kieran's skin was soft under his hands, he rubbed his knee carefully. "does this hurt then?" kieran shook his head. "you could never hurt me."

nick placed the candle onto the bedside table and finally gave in - gave in to what he was so afraid of. he laid his hands on each side of kieran's cheeks and melted into him, their mouths becoming one once again. nick's hand slowly went down to kieran's neck, eventually stopping at his slightly ripped collar. "bloody hate this ..." he pulls on it - rips his whole shirt down to his bellybutton, kissing along the chaos he had just created with his own hands. kieran throws his head back, his hands messing with nick's hair. another rip and kieran's shirt comes apart fully, nick helping him out of the remains of it. "you're quite the-" "shh. don't speak. let's listen to the rain instead." nick says, slowly pulling kieran's boxers down, proper teasing, unable to take his eyes off kieran's. something in kieran's eyes tonight, even more admirable than normally. covered in something more than just sadness, despair almost. anxiety. a pinch of arousal, too. it's like reading into his mind.

nick began kissing the inside of kieran's thighs, the little tattoo he had on his hip that only few knew about. he squeezed his hips, his large hands rubbing over his chest and back down. kieran gasps, too dark to read the expression on his face. no need for that, nick could tell by his breathing, by his echoing heartbeat, becoming faster with every time his lips met with his skin. again, again, and again. a little lick here and there. nick began stroking kieran's cock, looking right at him. the candle had burned down, the light becoming dimmer. "you're good?" nick asked softly. "yeah." kieran answered in a low voice. "better now that you're here with me." another kiss, kieran tasting like whipped cream and strawberries, figured he had some of the cake the lads got for him before. swore there was bit of it left on the side of his mouth. nick pushed kieran's body up the bed a little more, got undressed himself. shirt and boxers thrown into the corner of the room carelessly. he got back on top of kieran, his hand going straight back between his legs. kieran was still soft, so he began slow, whispering into his ear. barely audible, rain still crashing against the windows. words didn't matter, all that mattered was nick's warm breath against kieran's ear, the occasional kiss on his neck as he slowly got harder and harder in nick's hand.

his hand went up and down on him in slow motions, knowing they had all time in the world right now. as if time had stopped. here and now nothing mattered - kieran's age, the pain in his knee, nick's fear. all pushed aside for now. just the warmth of each other's touch, all they needed. kieran moaned, his head thrown into the soft mattress, his hands tightly wrapped around nick's shoulders. "keep going ... just like that ..." kieran whispered under his heavy breath, barely audible. nick lifted his body up a little and began thrusting his own cock into the silky sheets underneath him, the feeling of the soft fabric on him making his body tremble. almost too distracted with his own pleasure, he finally took kieran's cock into his mouth, the movements his body made onto the sheets harmonising with his mouth on kieran's now fully hard cock. the taste of precum gracing his taste buds, warm in his mouth. he spit on kieran's cock before taking it back into his palm, his thumb drawing circles across his tip, kieran twitching under his touch, knows he's close. he runs his tongue across it, his hips on the sheets united with the moves of his tongue. careful, slowly. nick's cock rubs against the sheets roughly, practically fucking into the mattress.

he stops for a moment to take it all in, holding kieran's cock by the base, tightly, as he focuses on the sensation of the feeling of the fabric underneath him, sticky and wet from his own precum, every thrust his cock makes against it sending shivers down his spine. he bites his lips, feels kieran leaking the sweet clear juice. it gets between his fingers, warm and delightful. he stops his hips from moving, instead taking kieran back into his mouth. he pushed his mouth over his length, tickling the back of his throat. over and over again, his spit wetting the sheets. kieran has gone nonverbal, his mouth open, heartbeat beating against his tattooed chest. candle almost burned out, the smell of it, of something coming to an end, covering the room. fitting. nick lays his tongue under the tip of kieran's cock, squeezing the base lightly, until, finally, kieran cums straight onto his tongue, shooting all the way into his throat. nick rubs himself onto the sheets more eagerly now, knowing he is close himself. just as kieran had come down from his high, his cum still running down nick's throat, hand still on the base of his cock, nick's eyes roll back, mouth open, the most obscene moan escaping his lips, barely audible. the space between the sheets and his stomach wet, his forehead covered in sweat. he hovers above kieran, picking himself up from the wet spot, the mess he's made of the sheets. "kiss me ..." kieran says breathless. "i want to taste me..." nick wipes some of his own cum onto kieran's lips like a balm, before their mouths collide.

nick is laid on top of kieran, nick's hands playing with the curls on kieran's head. "i need a trim i know." he says. "your hair always looks good. it's not curly like mine." nick shushes him lovingly, his head on his chest listening to kieran's heartbeat. slow, calm. in peace. "your curls are one of the things i love most about you. that and you. just. you. all of you." nick didn't lose control tonight, didn't turn into what the voices inside his head warned him about. peace.

5am.

the sky has cleared up, the sun rises above the city of milan. the power turns back on - cheers are heard from the lads in the rooms around them. the candle had burned down long ago, no longer in need of its warmth, its light. they're still laid on top of one another, fingers connected. looking into each others eyes. brown met blue - water met earth, colliding. turning into mud. becoming one.

[simiansmoke]

@k-ruelty

//PAST

It was just another fucking day in training where Dread and the other recruits seemed to make it their top most mission to badger and humiliate the prince of the Kongs. DK figured it was some weird power-trip thing, but it still didn't make it any less annoying...or exhausting.

Sporting a few fresh bites and bruises, the young prince dragged his feet along behind him on his way to his bunker...a tree house near a cliff that overlooked the sea. Though he was royalty and had a place for him at the palace, he never really felt like he had a place there. And if he did stake out one, he'd just have to deal with his Dad berating him about how he looked so beat up and how he could do better!

Scowling, he'd almost made it up the first rung of a boardplank hammered into the tree to provide an easier climb up when - something scaley snagged his foot from below and jerked him down. Snorting loudly before he hit the ground, DK blinked up at the night sky of stars before his vision was interrupted with the heads of...were those-...lizards?

"Uhh...can I help you?" He grumbled, still wishing he was face planted in his bed of wooden planks and moss tufts than flat on his back and surrounded by flashing teeth.

"Oh, you can help us, lad. We're needin' an audience with the crown prince back on our boat, see?" Hissing and cackling erupted from the gaggle of crocs as they helped him back on his feet with a rough jerk. He didn't even have time to find his footing completely before they were shoving him along the fern-lined path towards the edge of the sea cliff where a rather large ship awaited, connected to the land only by a thin strip of wood.

"W-wait...! I uh, I'm not really authorized to do any royal business-" He protested, turning to try and escape the throng of lizards, though they simply shoved him along like a wave, scales and arms grabbing and slapping each other proudly as well as shoving him forward without so much as a need to get too rough considering they had numbers on their side.

"You think old blunderbuss is gonna take to some tunes - from a monkey?"

"Well, I dunno, but it's worthy a try. He's in a fuckin' mood, arrgh."

"Either way, if he doesn't care - at least there's a prince to snack on. That's always fun-"

"Wait-what!?" DK growled, only hearing snippets of the kremlings' cackles as he's goaded onto the ship and left somewhat un-supervised in what looked to be a sort of eating area. Other scaled beasts sat around tables, playing cards, eating plates of raw and rotten meat, and otherwise going about their business save for a few scowls shot his way. Reminded of the army's recieval of him, DK sighed, meandering over towards what looked to be the edge of a stage and plopped on a bottom step, rubbing his elbow as he thought about the last training session that led him to this point.

"They're just-...makin' you tough." He asserted after a moment, shaking his head to help the hair curl out of his eyes so he could allow his gaze to drift along the strange sight of the lizard men going about their duties aboard the ship. Strange...he didn't think he'd ever seen such a species before. Though their judgemental leers were all too familiar to the Kong prince.

"Ladies and laddies!" Someone from behind bellowed, causing DK to glance over his shoulder and frown at the Kremling that directed the deck's attention towards the stage "Here's an extra special treat for ya'll tonight to get you in the mood for some pillagin'!" A sharp toothed grin swiveled and flashing, beady eyes narrowed in on the Kong at the bottom of the stage steps. "Courtesy of the island that's DUE TO WELCOME US...let's enjoy the rumored song-bird prince...oh by the way, he's not even a bird like we thought! It's a..."

A drumroll coaxed a spotlight along the stage until it zoomed in on the unsuspecting Kong, causing him to jerk to his feet and raise a hand to shield his face. "Monkey boy!" Curious and angry jeers erupted from in front of him and-...he felt a brief moment of familiarity that allowed him to peek out at the vicious crowd and purse his lips as he had when he'd first been told he'd be fighting in the army for training-

But now? These creatures weren't calling for him to battle or even suffer the blows of a mob-...were they asking him to sing them something? Weird. Shifting from foot to foot as the hissing intensified and voices wet with whiskey snarled 'get on with it', Dk sighed, eyes shut as he thought back fondly of the arena...how it echoed around him and caused the bass of songs to make his fur shudder.

The shape of Dread Kong's fangs in his neck still burned red and purple, but it didn't stop him from rolling it to the side. "So...you wanna hear a song, do ya? "He implored lowly, stepping forward to huff as the announcer croc cackled, prompting a few of the closer table-dweller to peer over and see what was going on for the evening. Some kinda monkey business? That's what they were promised anyway. And who better to show the stupidity of the Kong nation than their very own prince? But they wouldn't let him loose without a proper send off. Namely a few tapped keys on a nearby piano to signal the show was starting.

Hissing softly as a hot light flashed onto him from somewhere in the distance, DK made an attempt to shift away from it, though it seemed glad to follow him as he did so. Well, until he snarled softly and leapt up several feet to scrabble his way onto the stage and scamper to the other end before it could figure out his movement plan and follow in suit.

Well...they wanted a song?? He wanted to sing. It had already been a month of focusing fully on his military training, and the only melodious sounds he'd managed was the sharp groans that had left him when Dread would bite into his neck to drag him back to the starting position of a platforming puzzle.

"M-mmh..." He huffed, feeling his muscles loosen considerably as he considered the muted melody in his head, knocking a knuckle into wood to try and pick up on the dormant rhythm he had in mind. Yeah- that was it...that was...nice.

"...y-you...just know what to say." He began, not really noticing how the feeling in the room had shifted from boisterous amusement to quiet curiosity. "...things that scare me? I should just walk away...but I can't-"

Breaking off, he nodded in place, eyes closed as he attempted to folow the rhythm soundlessly, his wet, brown eyes glazed slightly while regarding the strange crew in front of him.

"Somethin' inside me's changed..." Though some might have needed a mic to help project their voice, gorilla lungs were awfully acoustic when it came to filling a room. "I didn' know that I was starvin' til I tasted you. Don't need no butterflies when you give me the whole damn zoo-"

There's no longer any annoying scaled creatures tilting their head in his direction; he shuts them out with his eyes closed, and the trembling power in his voice that he seemed to delight in the way one might a guilty pleasure as he husked out lyrics while suddenly dragging a wave of fingers down his chest with one arm, and up his chest with the other simultaneously as his heart threatened to inflate and lift him off his feet momentarily. "By the way...by the way- you do things to my booooo-dy ~ I didn't know that I was starving til I tasted- you...?" The finishing line seemed confused when he noticed the kremlings in the audience had turned their heads around to regard something watching the spectacle behind them.

"-til I tasted ...uh, is there food here?" He grumbled, stomach suddenly growling in protest. Royal training really took it out of a guy-